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It was Chance
Jameson.
Her heart skipped
and jumped into her throat. He wore a black leather jacket
that only added to his appeal. It wasn’t zipped and she
could see the same black button-down shirt he had worn
earlier only now it was unbuttoned enough so she could see
his bronzed chest.
“Chance,” she
managed to say without much stuttering.
He stared straight
into her eyes. The light from behind her highlighted the
shadow of growth on his face. He remained silent.
“Something you
needed?” she asked.
Chance stepped
closer to her, bringing with him in the air the smell of a
very cold, night. The kind of night that brought images of
being curled up on a couch, in front of a fire, with a loved
one. She inhaled sharply as his body brushed passed her when
he entered her home.
Zora licked her
lips as she shut the door and turned around to stare at the
man watching her. His eyes rolled over her like a wave of
desire.
“Well?” she
demanded.
“I shouldn’t be
here,” he uttered.
Her heart sank. He
didn’t want her after all. Perhaps he couldn’t force himself
to pretend long enough to fuck her. “There’s the door.” She
jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
Chance took a step
toward her. And another. His stride turned predatory as he
erased the remainder of the distance between them. His scent
seemed stronger than usual, the smell of it so pungent she
could almost taste it on her tongue as she licked her lips
that seemed so dry again.
Zora tried to keep
her quavering under control. If the damn man was going to
leave her again, she wasn’t going to let him know his
nearness affected her so much.
He didn’t pass
her. No, he stopped right in front of her. His eyes were a
dark and swirling mass of colors. She couldn’t decide which
color was more predominant.
“Good night,
Chance,” she said, doing her damndest to keep the pain out
of her voice.
Chance backed her
up until the door was at her back. The man was mute, his
eyes never moving from her face.
When she could
move no further, Zora would’ve sworn she witnessed a lift of
one side of his mouth in a primitive masculine smile. His
hands settled on either side of her head, blocking her in.
Her breasts began
to ache for his touch, her skin prickled, and her breathing
increased. Zora clamped her lips shut to contain the moan of
desire inside.
Chance held her
gaze and then dropped his eyes down to her lips and then
back up to meet her eyes. Zora shuddered but didn’t look
away from his burning stare.
“You seem to be
blocking the door,” he whispered, his warm breath flowing
over her, covering her with heat.
“Apparently,” she
mumbled. Her eyes moved down to hone in on the tease of
golden flesh that peeked out from his shirt. And stayed
there.
“Ms. Nicolette,”
he murmured.
Zora flashed her
eyes back up to his. “What did I say about calling me that?”
That damn grin was
on his face. He wanted her to look at him. Those intense
eyes of his stared unrelenting at her as she tried to
regroup.
“Would you say
something?” she pled.
Chance bent his
arms and lowered himself until their mouths were millimeters
apart. He lowered his sinfully thick lashes until his eyes
were almost hidden from her gaze.
“Tell me to go
home.” His words were low and raspy, as if he had been
gargling with pebbles.
“No.”
Copyright © Aliyah
Burke, 2008.
All Rights Reserved. |