Find Me Page 6

  Her hands got a mind of their own as they fastened around the big, round buckle and tugged it open. He jerked his zipper down and pulled off his tank top. Her nipples tightened so hard they ached. Ever since he’d rescued her at the rally, she’d wanted him. No, before that. She’d wanted him the first time she’d heard him sing.

  She ran her palms over the warm, solid planes of his chest, but he grabbed one of her hands and pulled it down. Lord, the man had a thick package. The bulge she’d always seen in his pants didn’t disappoint.

  His eager erection was the best thing she’d ever felt, too. When she rubbed the length of him, a moan escaped him, and he slumped against the vanity. Before she could do it a second time, he growled and peeled off her clothes.

  Her panties felt so wet, they were practically glued to her. Pulling them free released her scent—proof of how much she wanted him.

  “Don’t move,” he said as he reclined against the vanity, watching her.

  His gaze felt as heavy as a caress. In response, goose bumps popped up all over her flesh. They had a brief discussion about protection and decided they didn’t need it. Without another word, he walked her toward the shower and turned on the water. In moments, the glass-doored stall filled with steam.

  Hot water pulsed over their bodies. Rodney’s hair looked even sexier wet. Long sheets of it framed his muscled flesh, which turned rosy in the hot water. His jutting organ reddened, too.

  He sat on one of the built-in seats and pulled her back-first onto his lap as he had in the boat. His cock, slick and hard, rubbed against her buttocks. When would she feel it inside her? To fill her aching need? If he decided to act like a Southern gentleman now, she’d scream.

  With his arms around her, he leaned toward the nearby soap dispenser, built into the shower wall, and squirted a dollop of pearly fluid into his palm. It reminded her of cum, which made her cleft burn even more. With exquisite gentleness, he rubbed it over her arms, releasing its herbal scent. Going back for more and more to cleanse her legs, back, and belly.

  When he lavished extra care on the scar from her stab wound, it made her recall the rally. She’d been terrified of dying until he’d carried her to safety.

  I must be dreaming! Never let this shower end, even if my skin turns into a wrinkled prune.

  When would he wash the parts she needed most? As if reading her mind, he palmed her breasts. Through the soapy bubbles, the warm friction of his hands against her swollen nipples sent her into the stratosphere.

  Then he shut off the faucet, dropped to her feet, and nudged open her thighs.

  Oh, no he isn’t…

  With his usual gentleness, he spread her labia. She couldn’t help squirming all over her seat as drops of hot water dripped from her hair and bathed her innermost folds. When he kissed her clitoris with those soft, expressive lips, every muscle in Dee’s body loosened.

  He explored her with his tongue. Not like a sloppy, starving man but a gentleman. Each polite flick of it strung the tension in her a little tighter, like the strings on the one of the band’s guitars. Until she felt like she might snap in half.

  When he hooked her legs over his shoulders, giving him more access, she almost swallowed her tongue. Following his Southern tradition, she tried to act like a lady. It worked…for a while, but the deeper he drove his tongue, the harder she had to have it. She couldn’t help muttering unintelligible sounds or tangling her fingers in his hanks of wet hair. Pulling him closer to her swollen core.

  His wet moustache and beard tortured her clit while his tongue, embedded so far it became part of her, made her his. Like a boat pitching on waves, he rocked it from side to side, hitting pleasure spots she didn’t know she had.

  “Rodney!” Her climax ripped through her with little warning, her scream echoing against the shower walls.

  Next, he turned the water back on, pulled her into a standing position, and lifted one of her knees, opening her up to him. He kissed her slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Water sluiced down his angelic-but-rugged face, teasing her lips.

  Beyond done with politeness, she grabbed his erection and guided it inside her drenched pussy. He seated it the rest of the way.

  “I was getting to that,” he said, grinning against her mouth.

  “You weren’t fast enough, Southern man,” she replied.

  He gripped her hips as he slid inside her again, so slow it sent every nerve ending inside her into overdrive.

  “Oh, you want it fast?” he asked.

  She clung to his wet body. “I-I want you.”

  Water rained down his face, dripping onto her breasts while he stroked her, slow as you please. The back of her body pounded and slid against the slick shower wall. She’d probably be covered in bruises by the end of their lovemaking, but she couldn’t care less.

  It felt so nice to do nothing but feel good. Saving the world got tiring. His massive body pinned her in place, keeping her from falling. She explored his back, belly, and powerful thighs. Having such a magnificent man as her very own was a gift from heaven. But her experience wouldn’t be half as good if they hadn’t gotten to know each other first. Beneath his sexy exterior lay a good heart.

  And she wanted it, for keeps.

  “Dee.” His voice sounded rough as he gritted his teeth and pumped her harder. “My God, Dee.”

  The combination of physical sensation and emotion unraveled her. As he lifted his face and groaned his climax into the falling water, she flew apart again. His generous cock felt even larger as her walls convulsed around it. She grabbed his long hair—as dark, sleek, and wet as the thatch between his legs—and hung on for her life.

  She’d had sex before, but never like this. And never again, with anyone but him.

  Rodney washed away their lovemaking and turned off the water, leaving them in a dream world of steam. For the longest time, they stood face-to-face, enfolded in each other’s arms as they gazed at each other.

  He looked at her with wonder and desire that went way beyond sex. Still not sure if she was dreaming, she signaled it right back to him. Then, as the steam swirled around them and began to fade away, his eyes filled with sadness and resignation.

  “We’d better dry off,” he said.

  After they’d put on the two thick forest-green bathrobes he pulled from the towel rack, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “What time does your plane leave?”

  “I have an open ticket,” she answered.

  “Good. Or, I could hire you a charter plane.”

  She shivered. “I don’t trust those things.”

  “I use them all the time, but commercial is fine if you’re cool with it.”

  Coldness washed over her despite the thick terry cloth covering her. “Why do I get the feeling you want to get rid of me?”

  “I don’t, but Jack is going to wake up eventually.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I don’t want anything to ruin the wonderful time we had. We can eat dinner in my room.”

  And then it would be back to the airport.

  He kissed her gently. “Excuse me while I get dinner. I’ll find your bag while I’m at it.”

  After he left, the bathroom felt too big and empty. She stared into the steamy mirror. The woman looking back at her wasn’t the same one who’d walked in. She’d started falling in love. No, she was already there.

  But she had to face reality. Women were a dime a dozen to him. Thousands of groupies probably threw themselves at him on a daily basis. She didn’t want to venture to guess how many he’d slept with. How many of them had worn this bathrobe and squirmed on that very shower seat while Rodney took his pleasure?

  Picturing it sickened her. The evil brother didn’t help matters. Their weekend tryst had turned into an exotic one-night stand.

  Rodney dropped her bag inside the door and disappeared again. She dressed with mechanical motions, no longer caring how she looked. Finally, he carried a tray into the bedroom and set it on the low table in front of the loveseat.

  Normally, the steak would make her mouth water, but her appetite had vanished. Instead, she picked at her salad.

  “You don’t like steak?” he asked. “Sorry. I should have asked what you wanted.”

  He probably couldn’t give her what she really wanted.

  “It looks great,” she said quietly. “I’m just not hungry.”

  When he took her hand, the caring in his eyes nearly undid her. “What did I do wrong, Dee?”

  “Nothing. You did everything right. That’s the problem.”

  His brow wrinkled. “I’m not following.”

  She munched a tomato slice. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just—”

  “Just what, love?”

  Her eyes burned, so she stared at her plate. “Wanted to be more to you than a one-night stand.”

  “This isn’t a one-night stand.”

  She looked at him again. “It’s not? Then, what?”

  “I-I don’t know,” he said as he set down his fork. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that far ahead. We fly out Monday morning for the West Coast portion of our tour.”

  Dee ate a little of her potato because she felt lightheaded enough to pass out.

  “I guess I didn’t think too far ahead, either. I know long-distance relationships are really hard. Of course, I work a lot and need a lot of space, so—I don’t mind flying, either. But, the groupies…”

  “I’m not going to be touching any groupies,” he told her. “Not after today. I’ve gotten sick of all the partying, anyway.”

  She finally cut into her steak. “Then, we have a chance?”

  “Long distance and touring aren’t our only issues.”

  The meat soured in her stomach as she pointed at the flag on his wall. “It’s about that, isn’t it?”

  “Dammit, Dee, let’s not go there. Not yet, anyway. I want to savor the wonderful day we had.”

  “We’ll have to deal with it eventually,” she said. “Why not now when we’re face to face?”

  “You know how I feel about the flag,” he said quietly. “But the band has an image to uphold. If it was just me… But, it’s not. A bunch of people depend on Breeze for its livelihood.”

  She stood, grabbed her purse, and pulled out her phone to book a rideshare back to the airport. “Then, I guess this is it.”

  He stood, too. “We could keep sneaking around like we did today, but you deserve better.”

  She leveled him with a cold stare. Always a survivor, Dad had taught her how to read people like books, and she could smell a white lie a mile away.

  “You don’t care what I deserve,” she tossed back at Rodney. “You’re just worried about being found out, and we probably would be. Eventually.”

  He clasped her wrist as she held her phone. “Reality aside, I have feelings for you.”

  She turned her head to hide the tears burning in her eyes as she booked her rideshare.

  “Thank you for a beautiful day,” she told Rodney. “I’ll never forget it.”

  “And I’ll never forget you.” His lips, light and bittersweet, brushed hers for the last time.

  Chapter Seven

  Washington, D.C.

  On Monday at noon, Dee managed to snag her usual table Le Diplomate, a French bistro a couple of blocks from the office. Minutes later, Rhonda swooped into the seat across from her.

  “How did your weekend go?” her friend asked, waggling her eyebrows over outrageously long lashes and shrewd eyes. “Was Rodney’s dick as big as you thought it would be?”

  “Watch your mouth!” Dee exclaimed, her head swiveling as she looked around for any co-workers who might have overheard. Then she sipped her iced green tea to cool the heat building inside her. “The package didn’t disappoint.”

  “Tell me everything,” Rhonda said after a waitress took their orders. “Did you two do anything else? Or did you fuck the whole time?”

  Dee cringed. “Girl, do I have to put a muzzle on you?”

  They met here a lot because her friend worked from home and had a flexible schedule. She even wore a football jersey and exercise pants instead of a skirt, blouse, and pantyhose like Dee. Today, she wished they’d chosen a restaurant farther from the law firm.

  “We went fishing in the swamp in back of his house, or should I say semi-mansion?”

  “Fishing?” Rhonda wrinkled her nose. “Did you hold his worm?”

  “All right, that’s it,” Dee said, slapping the table. “I’m going to ask for carry-out.”

  Rhonda slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

  “Well, the swamp was hot and sticky, and we were covered with bug spray, so—”

  “You did it in the shower.”

  Dee nodded. Loss scratched inside her chest as she remembered how blissful she’d felt in their private, steam-filled world.

  “So, did Southern Boy go down on you?” At least Rhonda had the decency to mouth the last few words silently.

  “Like a true Southern gentleman. Best I ever had.” But her half-smile didn’t do justice to the bone-melting pleasure he’d wrought between her thighs.

  The waitress brought Rhonda’s chai smoothie, and she took a quick sip. “If it was so good, why do you look so sad?”

  “His brother was supposed to be away, but he stuck around because he had a cold.”

  “Do you mean that asshole lead guitarist?”

  “He’s the one,” Dee replied.

  “Did he hassle you?” Rhonda asked.

  “When I first got there, he did. I almost turned around and left.”

  “Next time, take me along and I’ll beat the shit out of him. I’m not scared of some nasty white boy.”

  The waitress brought their baguette sandwiches, but Dee could only stare at her food. She’d eaten very little since the weekend.

  “There isn’t going to be a next time,” she said. “We just had a one-night stand. Well, not even that because I didn’t spend the night.”

  Rhonda took a bite of her sandwich. “Let me guess. His decision?”

  Dee nodded. “I really didn’t expect anything more.”

  “I hate to say I told you so, but—”

  “Then don’t say it.” Dee chewed on a piece of lettuce. “It’s for the best. When the rally picture came out in the paper, my boss made it clear a relationship with a bigoted white man would not advance my career.”

  “Well, there are plenty of fish in the sea, girl. Plenty of white ones with big packages, too.” She gulped more of her smoothie and pointed. “Ones who don’t need to wave around some Dixie-shit flag to prove they’re men.”

  “The flag…” Dee worked up a rueful grin. “Rodney and I have had some long debates about it. You know, it doesn’t mean hate to them like it does to us. It’s more about family and community bonding and a sense of belonging. He also said hostility, like when you gave people the finger at the rally, will never lead to racial harmony.”

  “Oh, he did, did he? Sounds like he brainwashed you with a lot of bullshit while he was eating you out.”

  Dee shook her head. “His sexiness definitely got my attention, but I have my own mind.”

  “That’s right. You’re a strong-ass woman, and don’t you forget it.”

  Now that the anger and hurt had worn off a little, Dee could be philosophical about last weekend. Rodney Walker had given her an education in racial relations. Instead of being heartbroken like some stupid teenaged girl, she could use the knowledge to be better at her job. That’s what her father would do. Let nothing go to waste, even if it comes in a negative wrapper.

  “Do you know he even has a flag in his bedroom?” she joked.

  Rhonda dropped her sandwich. “No shit? No wonder you all did it in the bathroom.”

  Civil rights attorney and rebel Southern rocker. What had she been thinking? At least it had ended before things could go too far, and work would more than keep her mind off the long-haired heartbreaker.

  * * *

  Jack leaned back in his plane seat as the patchwork farms of America’s heartland scrolled by out the window. He drank straight whiskey to medicate the remains of his lousy cold.

  Linda sat behind him, reading some trashy romance novel. As if what he gave her in bed wasn’t good enough. She sure hadn’t learned anything creative from those books. His jeans tightened as he looked forward to shagging a young California blonde on tour. He’d be sure to find one for Rodney, too.

  His brother kicked off his worn black cowboy boots. Before he could doze off, Jack elbowed him.

  “Was she good?”

  “What?” Rodney frowned while stifling a yawn. “Who?”

  “Aunt Jemima.”

  His brother made a fist on the seat’s armrest. “Don’t call her that. Dee is a beautiful, smart, successful woman.”

  Whatever. “You had your fun. From now on, I suggest you dip your wick in white pussy only.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” Rodney said, his face flushing red. “You’re my little brother, not my keeper.”

  Jack sipped his whiskey. “I won’t let you ruin the band.”

  “I’m not planning to see her again,” his brother muttered.

  “Excellent.”

  But Jack didn’t plan to take his word for it. A man with a taste for other races couldn’t be trusted. He planned on watching his every move like a hawk.

  Then again, maybe he should let him self-destruct. What better way to get him out of the band? Anybody could look pretty and sing, but a masterful guitar player with God-given talent wasn’t born every day.

  The band should have been his, and only his, all along.

  * * *

  Next Saturday night, Dee stepped into the ballroom of a prominent hotel in downtown D.C. for the Good Neighbor Gala, a charity ball to benefit the homeless. Willis and Greene sent its employees every year for PR, and it usually resulted in picking up some new clients.

  The pleats of her black floor-length gown swished as she strolled under dazzling chandeliers. The dress had looked great in the store, but now she wished the side slit didn’t go so high, exposing black silk stockings and velvet pumps.