Ballroom Blitz Page 7

  They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, unless she counted him muttering about the lousy visibility and horrible road conditions.

  He veered off to the right onto a gravel road outside of Spearfish Canyon. The Black Hills spruce trees formed a canopy above them, softening the deluge. When they reached a big iron gate, he pointed a remote control device at the box on the fence post and the gate swung open.

  “Wow. Fancy.”

  “It discourages pesky relatives, door-to-door salespeople and bible thumpers who want to save my eternal soul.”

  Maggie suspected it also kept out fans, or groupies, or whatever they were called.

  Water had pooled in spots in the road, turning it into a mud bog.

  Jon dropped it into four-wheel drive and said, “Hang on,” before he gunned it.

  They bumped up a hill and when it leveled out she caught her first glimpse of the place he called home. Security lights illuminated a ranch-style log house with a small deck on the front and a two-car garage on the far left side. “This place is so well lit.”

  “The security system attached to the gate alerts me if someone enters through it. The sensors tell me if someone tries to get around it on foot.”

  “Got a stockpile of valuables you’re protecting?”

  “Nope. Just my privacy.” He poked the garage door opener clipped to the visor.

  “You sure I won’t be intruding?”

  He stopped the vehicle halfway through the garage door and turned to look at her. “I wouldn’t have asked you to stay with me tonight if I wasn’t sure.”

  That could be taken a couple of different ways.

  Maggie whistled after they’d parked. “This is the cleanest garage I’ve ever been in. How long have you lived here?”

  Jon grabbed her bag from the backseat. “Three years. It’s clean because I haven’t been here that much.”

  He kept his hand on the small of her back as they exited the garage into a mud room. He set her bag on the washer, unzipped his hoodie and tossed it in a big sink.

  Oh man. Her mouth dried seeing the wet T-shirt clinging to every muscle of his upper arms and chest. This man had such a beautiful body. Well-defined arms, contoured pecs, flat stomach. He unlaced his hikers and peeled off his socks, dropping them in the sink. He glanced up at her. “I freakin’ hate wet socks.”

  Don’t you hate wet shorts too? Maybe you oughta strip off those camo shorts so I know firsthand whether you’re a boxers or briefs guy.

  When her gaze met his, his startling blue eyes danced with amusement. “Do you have dry clothes in your bag?”

  “Nothing besides dance clothes.”

  “I’ll lend you something. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Maggie had the impression of bright colors and Native American artwork as he led her down a long hallway. He opened the second door and flipped on the lights. “The bathroom is through that pocket door. Hang tight for a sec and I’ll grab some clothes.”

  She had time to wander the cozy room, with its terra-cotta-colored walls and vibrant turquoise accents. The queen-size bed faced a window, although it was too stormy to see the view.

  Jon was back before she ventured into the bathroom. “My former tour manager left these on the bus and somehow they ended up at my place.” He passed her a pair of neon yellow Capri sweatpants and a gray tank top with Sapa emblazoned across the front.

  “Thanks.” Maggie’s bra and underwear were fairly dry so she didn’t have to go commando beneath the borrowed clothes. She tracked Jon to the kitchen. Not an ostentatious space, but homey. A cooktop was in the center island, which was surrounded by a horseshoe-shaped eat-in counter and six leather barstools. Lightning flashed above her head. She glanced up at the reflection in four enormous skylights. “Those are great.”

  “Jim knows I like to look at the stars, so he designed this house with that in mind.” He took a sip of bottled water. “Would you like something to drink? Water, soda, iced tea. I’m not much for alcoholic beverages, but there’s probably a bottle of wine rolling around here someplace.”

  “Water is fine. Although it seems silly to be thirsty when I was just drenched to the skin.” She was still shaking, but she was beginning to think it wasn’t from the cold. The heated way Jon looked at her should be setting her blood on fire.

  “I’ll show you around the rest of the house while I still can. Electricity can be wonky out here during storms.” He hit a switch, flooding the living area with light.

  The furniture faced a brick fireplace that took up almost the entire back wall. A coffee table crafted from a gnarled tree root was centered on top of a vivid rug, patterned with Native American symbols. When Maggie ran her hand along the back of the couch, her fingers encountered baby soft leather. “I could just curl into this couch and doze off.”

  “Go ahead. I spend a good chunk of my time with my feet up, staring aimlessly upward.”

  After she’d stretched out, she noticed a glass ceiling that nearly spanned the length of the room. “Holy shit.”

  “That’s what the insurance company said when I applied for a homeowner’s policy,” he said dryly. “I love it, but it does have drawbacks. Luckily there’s a retractable metal covering, so if something happens while I’m out of town, my house wouldn’t be open to the elements and the critters for months on end.”

  “I wish I could see the stars.”

  He moved behind her and dimmed the lights.

  “Do you have a telescope?”

  “Nope.” He sat on the edge of the coffee table, his forearms resting on his thighs. “I prefer looking with the naked eye.”

  I’d prefer you looking at me naked with those sexy eyes of yours.

  Another smirk curled the corners of his mouth, making her wonder if she’d said that last thought out aloud. “So you’re an amateur astronomer?”

  “Not really. It’s not even a hobby. Just something I do for relaxation and fun. What about you?”

  “Meaning…do I have hobbies?”

  “Meaning…what do you do for relaxation and fun?”

  “I haven’t indulged in my favorite way to relax for a long time.”

  Pause. Then, “Now you’ve aroused my interest.”

  When she realized how suggestive that sounded, she blushed to the roots of her hair. Wait. Had he said aroused?

  He chuckled. “The fact you’re blushing gives me all sorts of ideas on how you like to relax. And if I can help you out with that, just let me know.”

  Yes, please.

  Rain pattering on the glass made a soothing sound. After a bit she said, “I’m surprised you don’t have a TV in here.”

  “I’m not a fan of how media has overtaken every part of day-to-day life. It’s like no one can stand silence.”

  “Before I lost my job I was always too busy to pay attention to a pretty sunset or a wren warbling in a tree. But now even if Seth keeps me dancing until ten o’clock at night, I make time to empty my head. Just me and nature.”

  Jon reached for her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “You’re not at all like I imagined you’d be the first day I saw you teaching dance class.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And I meant that in a good way.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “You looked every inch the prima ballerina. Beautiful, graceful. I expected temperamental, which I haven’t seen. An uppity white girl, which I haven’t seen either. Passionate, which I’ve had just a little taste of.”

  She held her breath, waiting for him to say he wanted to see more of that side of her.

  But Jon just kept his compelling blue eyes on hers. “You want a tour of the house?”

  “Ah, sure.”

  Keeping hold of her hand, Jon skirted a large sculpture of an eagle soaring into the sky with a fish clutched in its talons.

  They walked past her guest bedroom and he showed her another empty room, which held two sets of bunk beds. “My nephews and nieces stay here a lot when I’m home.”


  How sweet that he was so involved in their lives. The next door was set back about ten feet from the hallway. “That’s the den. There’s where you’ll find the flatscreen, DVD player, gaming consoles, foosball table, dart board. Typical single-guy stuff.”

  “Do you spend much time in there?”

  “Depends on how long I’ve been on the road. But I usually only hang out in there when someone comes over.”

  Maggie poked her head inside. Everything looked brand new. He must not do much entertaining.

  Jon dropped her hand and faced her at the last door. “This is my bedroom.”

  “Do I get to see it?”

  “Depends on if it makes you uncomfortable when I admit I’ve imagined you in my bed since we first met. That said, I didn’t offer you a place to stay so I could sweet talk you into a tumble between my sheets.”

  Outwardly she stilled, but inside her heart galloped and her stomach did pirouettes. When he stepped aside to allow her into his room, she murmured, “Well, that’s a shame.”

  Maggie took in the king-size bed, the dressers, more big windows, covered with draperies. She peered into the adjoining bath, done in black and chrome. Then she wandered out and perched on the edge of the bed. “Bet you’re happy to come home to this place after being on the road.”

  Jon still leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Yep. And today is one of the rare days I’ve made my bed.”

  “You sound proud of that.”

  “I am.”

  “Is this where I finally get a glimmer of rock-star behavior?”

  He smiled. “Maybe. I stay in hotels and the maids clean up after me. I stay in the tour bus and we have a service that cleans it or I sleep on an unmade bunk. I tend to forget I’m responsible for those mundane things when I come home.”

  Her fingers pleated the plush comforter fabric as she tried to figure out how to phrase her next question. “Your house is great but I expected—”

  “It to be bigger? More ostentatious?”

  “No. I expected you to have a music room.”

  Jon’s posture relaxed. “I have an entire studio behind the house. You didn’t see it when we drove up?”

  She shook her head.

  “I wanted to keep the spaces separate. One where I could work on music and write. And a home where I could just be.”

  He sauntered forward with that sex-on-legs walk and she couldn’t look away from him.

  Then he gently pushed her shoulders and she rolled down onto the mattress. He loomed over her. “So we staying in here and messing up the sheets? Or returning to the living room for polite conversation?”

  His pupils were so dark she couldn’t see any blue in his eyes. He radiated enough body heat any chill on her skin evaporated. This potent, sexy man wanted her. Her.

  Maggie wreathed her arms around his neck. “Fuck polite. Let’s get wild.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jon lost his focus for a moment as he kissed her, cranking the heat simmering between them into an inferno.

  Maggie’s body arched, one hand twisted in his hair, the other gripping his hip. Her soft lips clung to his as her tongue stroked and teased, her mouth urgent in expressing her need.

  He pushed up and looked down at her.

  Seeing the flush on her cheeks and the passion darkening her eyes almost had him throwing caution to the wind, giving into the hard, fast fuck they both wanted now and slowing it down for a second round.

  But Maggie wasn’t taking the lead in this dance.

  “I like seeing you in my bed,” Jon said silkily, pressing a kiss below her ear. Then he let his lips follow her jawline to the other ear. “But I’d like it even more if you were naked.”

  “Have I mentioned how fast I am at getting in and out of my clothes? I can show you if you want.”

  He smiled against her cheek. “Nope. Because we’re doing this my way.”

  “Meaning slow.”

  “Meaning…my way.” Jon rubbed his mouth over hers, keeping their eyes locked, which increased the intimacy of the connection.

  Maggie undulated beneath him, her impatience palpable.

  “Got some place to be?” he asked.

  “On top of you, riding you like a pony.”

  “That’s something we’ll have to try. Later.” He captured her mouth with a kiss packed with such sexual greed, she whimpered when he broke free. Jon scooted forward on his knees, forcing her to straddle his legs. “Lift your arms.”

  She sat up and he removed the tank top.

  Jon curled his hands over her shoulders, sweeping his thumbs across her clavicle. “So pretty.”

  “If I’d known I’d end up here tonight, I would’ve worn something sexier than my sports bra.”

  He tipped her chin up. “Ask me tomorrow what bra you wore and I won’t remember. But I will remember the taste of your skin and how it felt when I touched you. Take it off.”

  Maggie pulled her bra off and flopped back on the bed. “Now it’s easier for your hands to fulfill the promises that sweet-talkin’ mouth of yours just made.”

  “And fulfill they will.”

  She gestured to his shirt. “You are lagging behind.”

  “Can’t have that.” Jon performed a slow striptease with his sleeveless T-shirt as he removed it.

  Her eyes ate up his chest, arms and abdomen once he was completely bared to her. “God. I want to lick every one of your tattoos.”

  “In time.” He hovered above her chest, his hot breath drifting over her damp skin. Then he dipped his head and his hair fell forward, brushing the upper swells of her breasts and the puckered tips of her nipples.

  She hissed when his wet tongue lashed a tight point. “I’ll give you about an hour to stop doing that.”

  Jon chuckled. “I’ll promise I’ll pay them the proper respect next time. I’ve got something else in mind for now.”

  His hair zigzagged across her belly as he scooted down her body. He teased and tormented her until she writhed. Finally he tapped her hip and when she lifted up, he peeled off her sweatpants.

  She was gorgeous naked. Firm muscles beneath her ivory skin. A small strip of strawberry-blond curls striped her mound, leading to that sweet, pink pussy.

  Jon reached for her hand. He nuzzled her wrist and his mouth moved upward, kissing the center of her palm before he sucked her middle finger completely into his mouth.

  Maggie hissed. She’d propped herself up on both elbows and studied him from beneath lowered lashes, her body so restless he could feel sexual energy emanating from her.

  He released her finger and placed the wet tip over her clit. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

  Her cheeks flushed with color. “Shouldn’t you be doing that?”

  “I’ll do more than watch, trust me.”

  At first Maggie was self-conscious. But when Jon murmured encouragement and started trailing the backs of his fingers over her thighs, she gave herself over to self-pleasure. Swirling circles around that nub. Flicking it lightly. Watching his eyes, she slowly pushed her middle finger into her opening. She rocked her wrist back and forth, grinding the heel of her hand against her clit.

  As soon as she removed her finger, Jon bent down and sucked it, releasing a tiny growl at his first taste of her. After he’d licked away all the sweet juice, he demanded, “Again.”

  Maggie glided her fingertip up and down her slit, adding more cream before vigorously rubbing her clit in a side-to-side motion.