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Jourdan Lane |
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From Chapter One of Soul Mates: Bound by Blood...
Chapter One There he was again, out on the dance floor, losing himself to the pounding rhythm. He wasn't dancing; he was becoming one with the music. His head was rolled back, face turned toward the ceiling as if in supplication to some higher power. It was as if there was an invisible, impenetrable wall around him. People danced around him, oblivious to his presence, yet somehow managing to keep out of his personal space. For a brief moment, standing in the middle of the dance floor, he looked like a god himself: a god drawing on the energy from his people. A small smile graced his full lips, and he raked his hands through his short, dark hair. He shook his head, as if clearing away his thoughts, and started to dance again. Every time he moved, his black leather pants hugged tightly to him, accentuating his ass and muscular thighs in ways that made my mouth water and my dick hard. Tonight wasn't the first night I'd seen him, but it was the first time I'd seen him alone. I didn't know his name; wasn't sure I cared. All I knew was that he was sexy as fuck, he could dance like no one I'd ever seen before, and he'd never been to the bar for a drink. I'd have remembered that. Him. His drink of preference. I watched him for a long while, wishing like hell for once that I could be on the dance floor rather than behind the bar. I glanced at my watch; ten minutes until closing. As I looked back to the dance floor, I couldn't help but smile. Oh, yeah. My rule on one-night stands could be broken for just one hour--with him. A customer appeared before me, blocking my view of the dance floor, smiling as he called out his order. I barely resisted the urge to glare at him, and when he made his drink order, I had to clench my teeth so I didn't tell him to fuck off. Fifteen minutes left until last call and he wanted a damned Fuzzy Navel. Just my luck, the last drink I'd made before I started watching hot-hunk-on-the-dance-floor had been with orange juice and I was out. Not wanting to make a trip back to the storage room for juice to make one measly drink, I turned to Jack--the other bartender and my best friend--asking him to toss me one out of his cooler. He looked at the clock, shook his head, then sent a small metal can flying at my head. I plucked it out of the air easily and began mixing the drink, still trying to keep my eye on the dance floor. I had to look away for about half a second in order to grab the Peach Schnapps, and when I turned back around, I lost sight of my target on the dance floor. I hurriedly finished mixing the drink, taking the customer's money and giving him change, and watched as he turned away without adding anything to the tip jar. Bastard. As soon as the customer slipped back into the crowd, I turned my eyes back to the dance floor, searching desperately for that tall, dark-haired stranger. Just as I was about to give up, I found him. Without taking my eyes off him for even a second, I removed the small black apron from around my waist and tossed it across the counter. "Hey, Jack?" "What's up, Petey?" he called out from behind me. I shook my head, ignoring the nickname he used to get me riled up. "Shut me down. I'm gonna dance." Jack laughed and pressed against my back, sliding his hands around to my crotch. "Oo! Somebody out there's getting you hard." I groaned as he squeezed me through my jeans. "Christ, Jack, let me go!" He chuckled and nipped my neck before pushing me away from him. "Go on, pretty boy; I'll take care of your side." "Love you, man," I laughed and exited the door leading from the bar to the club. It seemed to take forever to get onto the dance floor. Someone was constantly trying to walk right through me, or regulars were trying to stop me to talk. When I finally made it onto the floor, I stopped in my tracks, unable to move. He was only about four feet away, seeming lost in his own little world. I hoped like hell he didn't mind me invading it. I moved toward him, brushing his shoulder with mine lightly as I got even with him. His eyes were closed, and I had a sudden attack of insecurity. As I started to slink away, he brought his arm up, hand resting low against my belly. It was only then that he opened his eyes and looked at me for the first time. I struggled to meet his pale blue eyes as they leveled on me. Something in the way he looked at me made me feel raw, exposed. I didn't get to concentrate on that for long, however, because he was soon sliding up behind me. The music changed to something a little more bump and grind, and I could have sworn that he growled in my ear when he spoke. "Dance with me?" He didn't wait for an answer. His hands went to my hips, forcing me to either move, or move away. I found myself sliding my hands down over his, pushing back against him for contact. Maybe it had been too long since I'd gotten laid, but the longer we danced, the more right it felt. There were no odd moments, no awkward movements; only he and I, dancing, one with each other and one with the music. The song changed and I felt a soft kiss against my neck before the heat that had been at my back was suddenly gone. I turned to face him, to see why he'd moved away--but he was gone. I searched the dance floor frantically, my eyes going from face to face, none of them his. There was absolutely no way that he could have just disappeared on a floor full of people. But he had. Disappointment welled up inside of me and I sighed heavily, making my way off the dance floor. When I reached the bar, I turned and gave one last look, hoping that maybe I'd missed him somewhere. Someone hugged me from behind and it only took a matter of seconds for me to realize that it was Jack. "Find him?" he asked, kissing me on the side of the head. I nodded. "Yep. Found him, danced with him; you didn't see us?" "Nope. Got busy, then Mike called. Was your boy hot? Where's he at?" "Oh, he was definitely hot," I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "But I don't have a clue where he went. I lost him." "And that, dear Petey, is why you can't get laid." He laughed, turning me around and planting a sloppy kiss against my lips. "You lose them before you can get them home. Better luck next time." I shoved him away from me. "Stop fucking calling me Petey!" He feigned a hurt expression, then smiled. "Ready to go? I'll give you a lift." I turned, giving the club one last look before nodding my head. "Yeah, let's go." Want to read more? Click HERE to buy now! Or read another excerpt HERE !
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