Read Beautiful Storm for Free Online

odd expressions on their faces.
    “Nothing, it’s work. And for the record, I’m going to do nothing about it. Because nothing will come of it.” Bear cuts the conversation dead and Zan stares at him over the rim of his glass. Bear’s returning glare makes Zan shift in his seat before he looks away. One-nil to Bear then.
    “Do you girls need some privacy?” I’ve interrupted something too soon and as much as I love seeing these two bitches going at each other, I’d rather not be stuck in the middle if things turn physical.
    “You mind giving us a minute?” Bear looks apologetic but ready to kill me at the same time.
    I couldn’t give a fuck as I’ve spotted something far more interesting across the club. I grab my drink and make my way around to the other side of the dance floor.
    The fight to get there becomes worth it when I find Lizzie still where I spotted her. She’s leant on the railing, which surrounds the dance floor. And her face is turned away from me. Most people would think she’s watching the dancing, but her chin’s tilted slightly upwards. I follow what I think is her line of sight to find nothing but darkness. Shame I can’t observe her from the front, but I’d guess she’s wearing a thousand-yard stare.
    I move in close to her, resting my forearms on the railing, which brings me down to her level. No movement comes from her. She has no idea anyone is next to her at all. Not wanting to scare her, I nudge her with my thigh. Startled, she stands up straighter and turns at the same time, almost losing her footing. Instinctively, I reach out to save her. She stands still, her chest heaving, and slowly lifts her head. The heat in my body increases with every millisecond it takes her to reach my face.
    “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    For a second, the strobe lights graze her face, revealing a pink tinge to her cheeks.
    “It’s okay… I’m sorry about earlier.” Her gaze won’t meet mine so I let her wrists go, even though my fingers itch at the loss of contact.
    I’m sick of the woman spending more time looking at the floor than at me. I want, no, I need her to look at me. I crook my forefinger under her chin and raise it up so she has no choice. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We danced. I wanted to kiss you. You didn’t want it.” I let her chin go and shrug my shoulders like I’m not bothered by it, when if I’m honest, it fucking meant something to me. “No big deal.”
    “No. You’re wrong.” Her voice is timid, and hard to hear above the music.
    “What do you mean?”
    Her gaze flicks south again, and I’ve had about enough. I’m envious of the fucking floor. The thought registers and then I dismiss it.
    She seems to bolster herself like she did in our interview. Her shoulders square back, her chest rises with a deep inhale, and then she raises her eyes and her gaze meets mine.
    She looks me square in the eye. “I wanted it.” No hesitation. No looking at the floor this time. I’m fucked.
    I edge in closer to her, not wanting her to run away again. But I need my mouth on hers, or I’m going to explode.
    Her body grazes against mine and my arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her against me. I know she can feel me when her hips tilt and press in harder. The constant noise from the club fades away, no longer the focus of my attention. I hear nothing but her and her stuttered breaths.
    “Now?” I’m asking again. It may be the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I need confirmation from her this is what she wants.
    Her eyelids flutter shut and when she opens them, there’s a raging storm in her eyes. Still, I wait, desperate for an answer but unwilling to push for one. I get what I’ve been waiting for. She nods, all the while keeping eye contact with me.
    I lower my head and she pushes up onto her tiptoes, her mouth hovering over mine. Our breaths are rapid. One hand releases her waist and instead cradles her nape. Unable to wait any longer, I dip