Chapter 9

Hyper-sensual madness.

No other way to describe that tempest-swaddled evening.

Before me danced a sleek figure, arms twisting in the air, sending matted, flailing fire to the lightning-filled clouds. Those vivid flashes of blinding white offered the only source of illumination. Each brilliant blast silhouetted Eva’s curves and a disarrayed cluster of once-yellow lounge chairs against the motel pool’s rectangle of inky blackness.

Like me, with clothes left in the gaudy-colored room to dry and clad in only panties, wow, could the Icelandic beauty ever move. Both sharp-tipped cones wobbled in the most alluring way. The white cotton on swirling slim hips might not have been there at all. Beneath the shimmering translucence, reddish curls, shaped into a thin triangle, were highlighted by glittering flames.

On tiptoes, pirouetting and prancing like molten sexiness, she’d become the purest wild child. Droplets became spiraling jewels, flying skyward as dainty hands and slender fingers played in rain-matted, fire-streaked strands. Easy to imagine her svelte curves flitting across the black slopes of a volcano amid snow-swept island gauntness.

Overhead, a tall, round umbrella set in a concrete block offered little protection from the raging storm. The fringe fluttered like angel wings, desperate to leap skyward, as wind-driven raindrops slashed sideways.

Each icy pellet stung my skin but did nothing to the heat roaring within me. The look in those flashing emeralds, peeking through gust-blasted tresses, said she was suffering the same surges of primal desire. With the tiny triangles of lace covering little, the slim gauziness on my pelvis kept catching her attention.

Those perky tits jiggled quicker, flinging glistening sparkles of water from sharp nipples, as the girl’s moves became frenzied. Enraptured, I did my best to imitate the ever-sultrier motions, and frigid rivulets raced down my curves or were sent spiraling into the darkness from my heavier chest.

Amid blasts of ground-rumbling thunder, we’d become unified, dancing to a thumping melody. One of Cullen’s retinue had propped a phone in a covered niche by the nearby hot tub.

Framed by the wisps rising from bubbling jets, several sets of eyes were enjoying our performance. While there’d been laughter and loud voices at first, a hush had fallen. A quick peek showed the brothers huddled together to protect an orange-tipped joint being passed between them. Cullen’s dark pools were glinting black diamonds, imbibing every detail. From beneath Ezra’s furrowed brow, the hungriest of lasers tracked both our movements.

In the lee of a nearby stone planter sat two cups, both filled with wine. After clearing the ersatz stage for us, Cullen had placed the bottle beside them before leaving to join his posse. Such a bad, bad boy.

Earlier, in the motel room, he’d sensed the tension rising amid the smoky whorls of that amazing weed. An endless series of pulses roaming my body had been making the world ever blurrier. My glances had caught those of each of the others. Thighs in rain-soaked jeans had gotten squeezed, full lips had pursed, and hands had been trembling as they enjoyed the stronger booze or shared glow-tipped blunts.

A peek at Eva, leaning on the wall beside me, had made my pulse skyrocket. Over a cup filled with vodka at the time, those emeralds were aglow. The imp eased her tiny chest upward; yep, twin spikes ... aimed at me.

Lord have mercy! Underage drinking, gateway drug use, and a carnal attraction to my charges. Call me the worst chaperone in history.

A firm grip on my wrist had made me jump, and the vintage had threatened to slosh from my second or third cup. Fingers had pressed one of the joints to my lips, and I’d inhaled luxurious mellowness while sinking so very deep into Cullen’s soul-melting eyes and that wondrous smile.

“Come on, beautiful.”

More words had left him, directing the others. Clothes had fallen away, and bodies clad in only underwear had raced into the tempest to find the darkened pool. On tiptoe to avoid the chilly pavement, how I’d giggled while trying to keep the sloshing wine covered. With the brothers howling and laughing, we’d become a pack of half-crazed wolves speeding across the puddles.

After making quick work of a gate’s ancient lock, Joel and Fisher had moved the umbrellas, the one flapping above me and the other offering a modicum of protection to the small hot tub. After tearing his gaze from us, Ezra had figured out how to get the jets working. Once Cullen had cleared away the chaise loungers, he’d simply pointed to me and Eva, then the curtain had raised on our puddle-covered performance.

Hence, we were swaying on that tiny, rain-battered, wind-blasted, heaven-lit stage. A mystical energy crackled between us. Beneath flashes of brilliant white, we’d become borderline feral, dancing across her homeland’s distant volcanic slopes. Not quite stripper music, but darn close, the steady beats offered a sweltering sultriness in stark contrast to the violent storm raging around our little world.