Read Online Low Tide Bikini (A Pleasure Island Romance) by Lyla Dune - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lyla Dune
Tags: Contemporary Romance
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cymbals with her brush handles and kicked that bass drum hard just as Leah let out a shrill sax scream.
Kendal and Sam froze on a dime, held their breath and counted. One,two...back in they went, joining Mazy and Leah in a whirl of notes.
Leah cooked the sax line, wailing on her horn. It was steaming Charlie Parker style. Sax licks that made your thighs twitch.
The door opened, and Brock entered the room, looking like a young Sean Connery with mega-muscles. He wore a white button-down and black trousers and shoes. Sam was shaken and stirred. Parts of her body definitely needed to be put on ice. Gulp.
She closed her eyes and let her mind do all those things her body wanted to do to him. Fingering down the neck of that bass with notes climbing higher and higher and vibrations tickling her breasts, she imagined the part of the bass that rested against her bosom was Brock’s thick chest. She lifted her leg and pulled the bass closer, placing her inner thigh against the side of the instrument. Whew. Back to Earth, it was her turn to solo.
She pulled herself out of that steamy fantasy before she did something extremely inappropriate. The rest of the band came to a halt and gave her the floor, completely.
She closed her eyes to keep from looking at Brock. Time to slap that bass and make it sting. Thick strings vibrated against her fingertips. The wooden body buzzed against her. Tickling. Ringing in her belly. Her ear was so close to the neck she could hear her nails tap against the fingerboard. Damn. It was good. So good she let out an orgasmic groan.
She clamped her eyes shut tighter and burned it down, squeezing all her frustration and pain out of her heart and into that coffin-sized cradle in her arms, rocking that anguish to sleep.
Escape.
Playing music was like taking the lid off a boiling pot, hearing the hiss, watching the foam dissipate and bubbles pop until the raging boil lulled into a gorgeous simmer, where all the flavors braided themselves together into a delicious brew.
Wow....
Head up, eyes open, she turned it over to Mazy like they were in a relay race.
Mazy was off and in a full on sprint. Wild child, teasing the crowd with a few naughty drum kicks like they were emphasizing the hip action of a burlesque dancer. She knew how to make’em beg for it.
Next thing Sam knew, Mazy threw those brushes down and grabbed her sticks. It was on. She cranked out beats that tribal thundered and river danced all at once, seizing Sam’s pulse and making it succumb. Mazy owned it.
Nothing compared to this. Nothing.
Sam mentally exploded again and again, painting the music with whatever color found its way out of her. She was a part of something spectacular, and she didn’t touch ground again until the last note of that first set.
Mazy killed the final stinger with a machine gun riff. “Dayum...”
Standing ovation.
They never had that at the restaurant before. Applause, yeah, but not an abandon your lobster, pull your butt out the chair, and clap for a long ass time kind of applause.
Cool. Very cool. They were hot tonight. And the look in Brock’s eyes as he stood with both hands over his head, clapping and cheering, told her he was definitely impressed. Even if she did need to keep her distance, she got satisfaction knowing he’d be able to see her as something more than a clumsy, bumbling idiot. Make that a clumsy, bumbling, gay idiot and prize-winning shagger.
She should probably go over and say hello, just to be civil, but she couldn’t make her way to the table Jack had set for the band fast enough. Shrimp scampi, hushpuppies, fruit salad, cole slaw, and crab cakes. Greetings would have to wait until the growling animal in her belly was fed.
She sat down at the table and began to pile food on her plate.
“Dang, girl. You must be hungry,” Mazy said as she took a seat next to Sam.
Sam was too busy shoveling food in her mouth to respond.
Leah said, “Eat your
Kendal and Sam froze on a dime, held their breath and counted. One,two...back in they went, joining Mazy and Leah in a whirl of notes.
Leah cooked the sax line, wailing on her horn. It was steaming Charlie Parker style. Sax licks that made your thighs twitch.
The door opened, and Brock entered the room, looking like a young Sean Connery with mega-muscles. He wore a white button-down and black trousers and shoes. Sam was shaken and stirred. Parts of her body definitely needed to be put on ice. Gulp.
She closed her eyes and let her mind do all those things her body wanted to do to him. Fingering down the neck of that bass with notes climbing higher and higher and vibrations tickling her breasts, she imagined the part of the bass that rested against her bosom was Brock’s thick chest. She lifted her leg and pulled the bass closer, placing her inner thigh against the side of the instrument. Whew. Back to Earth, it was her turn to solo.
She pulled herself out of that steamy fantasy before she did something extremely inappropriate. The rest of the band came to a halt and gave her the floor, completely.
She closed her eyes to keep from looking at Brock. Time to slap that bass and make it sting. Thick strings vibrated against her fingertips. The wooden body buzzed against her. Tickling. Ringing in her belly. Her ear was so close to the neck she could hear her nails tap against the fingerboard. Damn. It was good. So good she let out an orgasmic groan.
She clamped her eyes shut tighter and burned it down, squeezing all her frustration and pain out of her heart and into that coffin-sized cradle in her arms, rocking that anguish to sleep.
Escape.
Playing music was like taking the lid off a boiling pot, hearing the hiss, watching the foam dissipate and bubbles pop until the raging boil lulled into a gorgeous simmer, where all the flavors braided themselves together into a delicious brew.
Wow....
Head up, eyes open, she turned it over to Mazy like they were in a relay race.
Mazy was off and in a full on sprint. Wild child, teasing the crowd with a few naughty drum kicks like they were emphasizing the hip action of a burlesque dancer. She knew how to make’em beg for it.
Next thing Sam knew, Mazy threw those brushes down and grabbed her sticks. It was on. She cranked out beats that tribal thundered and river danced all at once, seizing Sam’s pulse and making it succumb. Mazy owned it.
Nothing compared to this. Nothing.
Sam mentally exploded again and again, painting the music with whatever color found its way out of her. She was a part of something spectacular, and she didn’t touch ground again until the last note of that first set.
Mazy killed the final stinger with a machine gun riff. “Dayum...”
Standing ovation.
They never had that at the restaurant before. Applause, yeah, but not an abandon your lobster, pull your butt out the chair, and clap for a long ass time kind of applause.
Cool. Very cool. They were hot tonight. And the look in Brock’s eyes as he stood with both hands over his head, clapping and cheering, told her he was definitely impressed. Even if she did need to keep her distance, she got satisfaction knowing he’d be able to see her as something more than a clumsy, bumbling idiot. Make that a clumsy, bumbling, gay idiot and prize-winning shagger.
She should probably go over and say hello, just to be civil, but she couldn’t make her way to the table Jack had set for the band fast enough. Shrimp scampi, hushpuppies, fruit salad, cole slaw, and crab cakes. Greetings would have to wait until the growling animal in her belly was fed.
She sat down at the table and began to pile food on her plate.
“Dang, girl. You must be hungry,” Mazy said as she took a seat next to Sam.
Sam was too busy shoveling food in her mouth to respond.
Leah said, “Eat your
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