Diamond Dreams. Zuri Day

Diamond Dreams - Zuri  Day

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face and curse him out, her traitorous body was pressing against his, even as her tongue engaged in a languid duel. Before she knew what was happening, her arms had reached around to stroke his broad back, and she marveled at the power created by sinew and bone. Somewhere in her mind she felt one of his hands muss up her short do. Jackson moaned and deepened the kiss. His other hand traveled from her shoulder to the small of her back and lower still until it cupped her round, firm booty as if the most natural thing in the world to be doing on a night like this was to be ravished in a moonlit garden while jazz played in the background.

       Jackson slowly raised his head and blazed a trail of kisses from her mouth to her neck and back to her temple. “I said I’d be a gentleman,” he whispered, even as he nipped her earlobe with tiny love bites, “so I should have asked to kiss you. But an apology at this point would be insincere. You taste way too good for me to feel sorry for what just happened.” Jackson ran a firm finger down Diamond’s arm. “May I kiss you again?” he asked. His voice was as soft as the kisses he’d rained down on her face. Her nod was almost imperceptible, but her acquiescence was all Jackson needed to raise the stakes. He pulled them deeper into the shadows, backed her against the ivy-covered brick wall and once again plundered her mouth with his tongue. His hips mirrored the movement of his tongue: slow, rhythmic circles as he thrust up against her.

       Diamond wasn’t even aware that she was joining in the dance of this slow grind until she felt Jackson harden beneath her. Then she felt his hand on the silk of her dress, grasping her hip, easing along her waist and up to her breast. He tweaked her nipple, and Diamond felt as if she would explode. In this love-induced insanity, it didn’t matter that she was in a public place, mere yards from where her protective brothers sat. All she wanted was this man’s arms around her, with his body pressed tight against hers.

       And then the audience applauded.

       “Stop!” Diamond used the last ounce of her will and pushed against Jackson’s massive chest. “We…can’t do this.”

       “I know,” Jackson readily agreed. “You’re much more than a quick romp in the hay or, in this instance, the garden. Here,” he said as he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “My cell number is on the back. Call me. Let’s meet up and…finish what we’ve started.” In the next instant, he was gone.

       Diamond stayed behind in the shadows, willing her heartbeat to return to normal. She touched a hand to her lips and felt them swollen from the passion of his kisses. She felt that one look at her brothers and the message of what had transpired would be sent faster than a cell phone text. She’d been ravished by Jackson Wright, and she wanted it to happen again and again. Diamond knew it would raise eyebrows and questions, but she had no choice. She couldn’t get Donovan’s drink, return to her seat, hear the rest of the concert or say thanks to the host. If she was going to save any dignity at all, she had to run out of here as if the devil were chasing her. And that is exactly what she did.

      Chapter 8

      Diamond stood in her bedroom, ready to greet the day. This had always been one of her favorite rooms in the house, with its separate sitting area and massive bath. On her eighteenth birthday, she’d changed the color scheme from girly pinks and purples to a dramatic black-and-white theme. Just last year she’d changed it again. Now rich tan-colored walls and plush ivory bedding, both of which complemented the dark walnut floors, gave the room a sophisticated yet understated elegance. Splashes of color came courtesy of recently purchased Charles Bibbs artwork and freshly cut flowers that always occupied the coffee table and fireplace mantel. At times she thought about venturing out and purchasing a condo or house of her own. But then she’d come to this, her retreat, and forget every thought she had about leaving.

       Diamond took one last look in the mirror. She looked calm and refreshed, thanks to a two-hour early-morning workout. This fresh look covered the roiling emotions she felt from her encounter with Jackson two days ago. For this she was thankful, since she was getting ready to walk downstairs and join her family for their traditional Sunday dinner. Everyone would be there, and she was sure all eyes would be on her. Why did she know this? Because she knew how her family operated, and there was very little that happened with one Drake that the others didn’t know about sooner or later. Donovan was very close to their father, Donald, so Diamond was sure he’d mentioned her encounter with Jackson and her refusal to discuss it when asked. Dexter was the baby of the family and a mama’s boy. Additionally, he couldn’t hold water if he carried it in a bucket—an old-time saying that meant he couldn’t keep a shred of anybody else’s business to himself. Knowing this, Diamond had basically avoided her parents for two days, which—even though she and Dexter still lived at home—wasn’t hard to do. The estate included a main house and three fully equipped guest rooms totaling ten thousand square feet. Each child had their own wing, as did their parents. More often than not, Donovan could be found there, too, even though he’d purchased a home near San Diego a few years ago. Diamond’s grandparents, David and Mary Drake, lived in one of the guest homes. Their ninety-eight-year-old great-grandfather still lived on the property, as well. These were the people Diamond saw as she rounded the corner and entered the dining room.

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