~Excerpt~
“May I accompany you, Ms. Hrbek?”
I jumped and nearly tripped.
Zajicek caught my wrist to steady me. His fingers were long and slender but
amazingly strong—and fiercely warm. Like iron filings to a magnet, my skin
aligned instantly to him. Hot sensation juddered through me, knocking me even
more off balance. I scrambled to regain my equilibrium, only to have my feet
scud into one of the semi-vertical sidewalk stones. My flute bag slipped off my
shoulder and nosedived into the crook of my arm, yanking me sideways. I went down.
Powerful arms wrapped around me
and saved me from severe pavement burn. The arms were gentle righting me, and I
stood in their comforting embrace a moment to get my breath back. A strong
heart beat under my cheek. My palms pressed against warm, crisp
cotton. The body under the cotton was a solid, cloth-covered cliff, so unlike
my own soft limbs. I shivered.
“Are you all right, Ms. Hrbek?”
Zajicek’s deep honeyed tones, tinged with amusement, came from somewhere over
my head.
“Huh?” Not the snappiest of
rejoinders but I was cheek-to-massive-chest with Dragan Zajicek, the posterboy
I’d had the hots for half my life.
He was definitely not pasteboard
now. The longer I stood there the more I felt. Every ridge of his taut abdomen,
the roped muscles of his long thighs, the poke of his belt buckle; they all
became alarmingly three-dimensional. His warm breath stirred my hair. Something
else stirred too, at hip level…and silent laughter rippled through him.
My brain churned. The intimate
way he held me made no sense, but the laughter, well, my clumsiness had
lightened the room on more than one occasion.
Then Zajicek’s long fingers slid
under my chin, raising my face. His brilliant eyes were shuttered by slumberous
lids. I stared in bemusement as his face expanded in my vision…
His lips found mine.
Warm. Smooth. Exciting. “Some
Enchanted Evening” sang through my right brain.
My left brain locked up in utter
confusion. A man was kissing me. Zajicek was kissing me. The sum of my kissing
experience was a slobbery grandmother and a few rushed awkward sexual
encounters. I never really saw what the fuss was about. Until Zajicek.
I always thought kisses were
simply the press of lips. His mouth didn’t simply anything. It rubbed, it
tasted, it gently teased. Warm, velvety soft, his tongue began to explore.
I stood there in stupefied awe.
Until he murmured against my
lips, “How clumsy you are, Ms. Hrbek. How very fortunate I was here to catch
you.”
He thought I’d done it on
purpose.
I struggled out of his embrace.
He was slow letting go, his fingers firm on my arms.
With a little tilt of his head,
he perused me. Whatever he saw on my face made him release me with an
extravagant sigh. “I beg your pardon. Apparently I misread your…desires.”
I flushed, because he hadn’t
misread my “desires” at all. Just my intentions. I jerked my flute bag onto my
shoulder and started determinedly toward my car, fiercely watching my feet on
the uneven sidewalk. “No biggie. What did you want, Maestro?”
Long legs kept graceful pace with
me. “Call me Dragan, please. Maestro is so overused.”
His first name? It implied an
intimacy I couldn’t afford. “You call me Ms. Hrbek.”
“Yes, but perhaps you would allow
me the familiarity of your first name as well?” His tone was coaxing.
I skewed a look at him,
immediately returning my attention to the stones, although I was beginning to
think Zajicek was more treacherous than my footing.
“If you want. After all,
you’ll be seeing us weekly for a while.”
“Perhaps you and I will be seeing
a great deal more of each other, hmm?”
Yikes. My stomach flipped, my
attention disintegrated and the elevated corner of a concrete slab cold-cocked
my foot. I tripped and would have fallen again if not for Zajicek’s lightning
reflexes. He caught me in his arms, steadying me. Senses reeling, I let him, my
forebrain scolding idiot but my lizard brain panting and presenting its tail.
Before I could completely self-combust, he brushed a thumb over my cheek and
released me.
“What do you mean by that?” I
croaked. Catching my flute bag to my chest, I wheeled and trotted off, fast,
too fast, almost running, nearly stumbling yet again. Making a conscious effort
to slow down, I cleared my throat. “Why would you see more of me than any
other orchestra member?”
“I am staying in Meiers Corners
for the duration of Mr. Banger’s recovery. That is what I wished to discuss
with you. I have only just arrived in the area. I’d like to follow you home
this evening.”
Dragan Zajicek in all his
powerful, elegant glory, driving behind me? My internal meter was pinging red
alert, core meltdown imminent. “You don’t need to. I can tell you how to go.
It’s not that far.”
“Perhaps. But it’s late and I
would not wish to become lost.”
I opened my mouth to say no,
heard my voice say, “Oka—” and snapped my jaw shut so fast teeth sparked.
Problem was, I liked being with him—which, considering I was practically
wearing my heart on my sleeve, was dangerous. What if he found out his kiss was
the first real one of my life, and had utterly demolished me?
“Ms. Hrbek?”
He was politely waiting for an
answer. Politely, as if the whole of my pitiful ego wasn’t in the balance.
I tried to see it from his point
of view. The man wanted help getting around. A few directions, not my soul.
Simple neighborliness would do. I breathed deep, and managed to rasp out,
“Sure. No problem, Mr. Zajicek.”
He smiled and slipped his arm
around mine. “Dragan, please.” His hip bumped against my side as we walked.
My respiration rate shot through
the roof. I gritted my teeth. Simple neighborliness, yeah, right. Like your
basic neighborhood raging inferno. “Okay. First names. I’m Rocky.”
“Rocky? That’s a boy’s name.”
“It’s a nickname,” I admitted.
“Ah. And your real name?”
Yes. My “real” name.
My friend, Nixie Emerson, once
told me names have power. In her case, she went by her kicky middle name
instead of “Dietlinde”, her dull-as-dust first. For her, that was appropriate.
Nixie was short and punk and smart as a whip—and as smart-mouthed too, though
she reined it in around her new baby.
In my case though, my “real” name
was not appropriate. Anti-appropriate, in fact. My mom named me Raquel, after
Raquel Welch, the sex-goddess of the sixties. So while Nixie’s name was right
and good, mine was a joke. And considering my nega-love-life, a rather nasty
one at that. “Rocky’s good enough, Mr. Zajicek.”
“Dragan,” he murmured, somehow
pulling me closer. The heat of his body licked flame-like up my side. I hissed
and shifted my flute bag between us, but as a defense it backfired. Zajicek
simply plucked the bag from my hands.
“Shall I carry that?”
“You don’t have to. No, wait—”
“Nonsense. It is quite light.” He
shifted my bag onto his own shoulder, not the one between us. The strap wrapped
itself over his muscles like a second skin, and I swear it moaned happily.
Then Zajicek curled one hand
around my waist and pulled me so close I could barely breathe. I tried to,
really I did. But every tentative inhale brought the scent of him, cotton and
sandalwood and burning masculinity. Every movement of my ribcage scraped the
side of my breast against his arm, until I was trembling with the need to rub
blatantly against him. Every breath drew cool air over my tongue…yikes, I was
lolling like a dog in heat.
My glasses fogged up, and I stumbled
again.
Both Zajicek’s arms went around
me. I felt incredibly clumsy and stupid, making him rescue me continually from
my own feet. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Zajicek—”
“Dragan,” he murmured, cupping my
chin and lifting my face for another soft kiss. His lips touched mine, his
mouth moving in tiny circles as if to warm my skin. He didn’t need to. I was
plenty warm already—and a little buzzy.
“You taste wonderful.” His mouth
opened and his tongue teased the seam of my lips.
I jumped at the touch but Zajicek
held me, so securely I relaxed into his arms. It seemed to be some sort of cue
for him to lick me and slide his tongue between my lips, encouraging me to part
them.
He asked so nicely, with tiny hot
licks. So I did.
The instant my mouth opened he
devoured me. His mouth slanted over mine and his jaw dropped. Heat rushed in. I
gasped. Shocked and a little scared, I fell back, but he stepped with me,
wrapped his arm around my back and trapped me good. He had to bend quite a ways
to do it.
My back arched like a bow, my
breasts crushed to his chest, my hips to his thighs. Something stirred against
my belly, sending a jolt shearing through me. My mouth tingled and my breasts
tingled and I was getting really tingly between my legs.
I slid my hands between us to try
to wedge open some space. All I succeeded in doing was fitting my palms to the
hardest pectorals in the world.
The tingling between my legs was
starting to drive me insane.
Zajicek’s mouth left mine to
trail licks and nibbles down my jaw to my throat. He nuzzled me
there, an odd dark rumble coming from his chest, almost a lion’s purr. “You
smell divine. Ah, to taste you fully.” His tongue rasped over my pulse.
Somewhere along the way his hand
had found my breast and was kneading and cupping while he sucked gently on the
tender skin of my neck until my head spun.
Then his fingers found my raised
nipple and plucked.
A thousand Christmas lights went
on in my head. I shrieked.
