I woke with Naya nestled against me, her lithe body molded to mine. My fingers trailed along her smooth skin, tracing the curve of her arm, the hollow of her ribs, the swell of her hips. I slid lower, exploring the softness of her belly and the roundness of her breast. Her dark nipple pebbled under my touch, drawing a soft moan as she pressed into me.
“Time for round two?” Naya asked, her voice sultry even in the haze of sleepiness.
“More like round five. You kept me up all night,” I reminded her.
Naya wiggled her ass against my growing erection, clearly aware of my arousal. Leaning in, I brushed my lips over her shoulder. The chirp of my cell phone shattered the moment. I rolled away, scanning the screen with a muttered curse. “Shit, it’s almost noon.”
Naya stiffened against me. We were late. Without a word, we scrambled from the bed. Naya darted over into the bathroom. I pulled on my clothes and headed out to the front room of the apartment.
In the kitchen, I started the coffeemaker and grabbed a couple of pieces of fruit and a roll, placing them in a small fabric grocery bag I found hanging on a hook.
While gathering the items, I listened to voice-messages on my phone from work. Updates from some of my staff and a message from Benjamin. Instead of wasting time with calls, I tapped out a few text messages. After checking to make sure Naya was still in the bathroom, I took an extra few seconds to craft one in particular.
“Gabriel?” Naya called out from the hallway, now dressed in fresh clothes. She looked radiant, her natural beauty shining through, even in her casual attire.
“Got us some breakfast to go.” I said. “We can head straight to Desire.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her eyes filled with gratitude. We got into my truck, and as we drove back to the club, I stole occasional glances at her, admiring her strength and the passion she brought to everything she did. This girl had surprised me at every turn and I couldn’t get enough of her. In or out of bed.
Pulling into the employee parking area at the club, I stopped the truck and turned to face Naya. I leaned in and kissed her, my lips meeting hers in a tender embrace. “I promise, everything’s going to be perfect today,” I whispered against her mouth.
“It already has been,” she murmured, her breath warm on my skin.
“I’ll be up in the office if you need anything. See you on stage.”
Naya smiled, her eyes glinting with promise. “You better have a good view. I plan on putting on a show you won’t forget.”
With a throaty chuckle, I got out of the truck, went around to open her door, and led Naya inside.
Hand in hand, we walked into the club, only parting once inside. Naya’s band members immediately surrounded her, whisking her off to the dressing-room area. I watched her go, my heart swelling with pride and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put into words yet.
I made my way up to the security office, the weight of my duty heavy on my shoulders, but the warmth of Naya’s touch still burning in my veins. I checked in with my team, reviewing the final security details and schedules to ensure everything ran smoothly for the party in general and Naya’s performance in particular.
After a quick meeting with my staff to make sure everything was under control, I went back to my regular duties. The afternoon and evening passed in a flash, a blur of frenzied activity and growing noise.
That night, as the club began to fill, I kept an eye on the crowds from the office, but my attention kept drifting to the stage, waiting for Naya to appear and light up the world again.
When Naya finally did emerged, my breath caught in my throat. She wore white—an angel’s costume of scraps of fabric and feathers that revealed far more than it hid, clinging to her curves like a second skin. The wings spreading behind her sparkled in the stage lights but did nothing to distract from the wide expanses of smooth, dark skin on display. I gripped the railing, heat and possessiveness warring within me at the sight of her.
Mine. The primal claim rose unbidden, my knuckles whitening around the metal bar. They could all look and wish and dream, but no one would have her. No one else would ever touch her again.
Naya began to sing, her voice perfection, and I surrendered to its spell. The world fell away, and in that moment, she sang only for me. I lost myself in the performance, in her. The crowd, the noise, the chaos of the party faded until only Naya remained—a vision of light and beauty amid the darkness.
When a touch on my arm jerked me back to the present, annoyance flared. I turned to find Sharon at my side, her expression grim. “Boss, we’ve got a situation.”
I frowned. “What is it?”
“A hit on that guy you asked Ash to put in the system. Facial recognition picked up a hit in the parking lot. It’s him.”
Realization dawned, sharpening my focus. “Let me see.”
Sharon held up her phone and there he was, clearly recognizable from the search I’d done earlier. Damien, the man who controlled and abused my Naya was here.
“That’s him,” I told Sharon. “Everyone on standby?”
Sharon nodded. “Of course. We’ll follow your lead.”
I scanned the dancefloor, searching the crowd until I found him—a tall, thin figure in a top hat and tux. Even from a distance, menace radiated from his posture. My hands curled into fists as he turned, as if meeting my gaze. We stared at each other, a silent challenge passing between us, before he bolted into the crowd.
“He’s heading to the back,” Sharon warned.
I was already on the move, shoving through the revelers as I tracked Damien’s progress. He wouldn’t get near her. Not tonight. Not ever again.
I vaulted over the railing and took the steps three at a time, adrenaline coursing through me as I caught up to Damien near the dressing rooms, grabbing him and slamming him against the wall. He struck out, catching me in the jaw, but I didn’t feel the blow. All I knew was the need to stop him, to eliminate the threat. We grappled, and for a moment, he slipped free.
But I knew where he was heading this time. Right to Naya. And I’d knock out every single person in the club to keep that from happening. I was much more accustomed to moving through a crowd of drinking, dancing revelers and caught up with Damien again. This time, I launched myself into the air and tackled him to the ground before he could reach the stage.
With a snarl, I flipped him onto his back and punched him hard in the face. His eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness.
Silence greeted my actions. The music and laughter had ceased, and in the stillness, Naya’s shocked gaze met mine from the stage. I kept a foot on Damien’s chest, ensuring he would remain out of commission.
“It’s over,” I told her. “Your ghost has been exorcised.”
Naya stumbled down from the stage, staring at the unconscious form at my feet. “Damien,” she breathed.
I nodded. “I figured out he had to be the one sabotaging you. I gave his description and photo to the entire security team. My guys have been monitoring for him all night.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes flashed as she looked up at me.
“He wanted to ruin your big night.” I cupped her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin against my calloused palm. “I would never let that happen.”
A tremor ran through her. Then she threw her arms around my neck, clinging to me. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, but I only had ears for the whisper of her lips against my neck: “Thank you.”
I held her close, breathing in her scent. The fierce surge of protectiveness was fading, leaving behind the warmth and rightness of holding her in my arms.
Naya smiled and then pressed her mouth to mine.
The crowd erupted again. But I was only aware of her—the taste of her lips, the feel of her in my arms. A moment or a year later, Naya pulled back, her lips swollen from our kiss. Her eyes gleamed up at me, filled with warmth and promise.
“I have one more song to finish,” she said. “Wait for me?”
“Always.” I released her with reluctance. She smiled, squeezing my hand, before turning to go back on stage.
I watched her climb the steps, the sway of her hips and the graceful extension of her arms as she reached for the microphone mesmerizing. She paused, meeting my gaze, and in her eyes was an invitation—to the music, to the night, to everything that was to come after.
She began to sing once more, her smoky voice wrapping around me, as intimate as a caress. I was lost, as I always was, in the emotion and passion she poured into her performance.
By the time she finished, I was burning for her. The crowd screamed and stomped, demanding an encore, but she waved them off. Naya strode across the stage toward me, desire darkening her gaze. She jumped down into my waiting arms and crushed her mouth to mine.
I kissed her with a hunger that matched my own. “Take me home,” she whispered against my lips.
I swept her up into my arms and carried her off the stage and out of the club, not stopping until we were in my truck. After settling her onto the passenger seat, I slid in beside her and pulled her onto my lap.
“Home,” she demanded, fingers working at the buttons of my shirt. “Now.”
I started the engine and pulled out of the lot, swerving onto the road. Naya straddled me, her mouth and hands restless, igniting my blood until I was near mindless with need. We barely made it inside her apartment before clothes started coming off and we tumbled onto the nearest surface.
The rest of the night passed in a haze of pleasure and passion. And when Naya finally fell asleep in my arms, I knew that my heart was irrevocably hers. Ghosts could never haunt something as beautiful and alive as what we shared.