Riding the Storm (44 page)

Sighing,
she
began
removing
her
clothes
for
her
shower.
But
as
much
as
she
didn’t
want
to
think
about
it,
she

couldn’t
get
the
memory
of
Storm
and
the
way
he
had

looked
at
her
today
out
of
her
mind.

Drawing
in
a
deep
breath,
Storm
raised
his
hand
to
knock,
then
pulled
back
as
he
asked
himself,
for
the
umpteenth

time,
why
he
was
standing
in
front
of
Jayla’s
front
door.
And
no
matter
how
many
times
he
asked
the
question,
the

answer
always
came
up
the
same.

He
still
wanted
her.

Seeing
her
today
had
done
more
harm
than
good
and
what
Chase
had
said
hadn’t
helped
matters.
The
notion
that

Jayla
had
hooked
him
was
preposterous.
Okay,
he
would
admit
she
was
still
in
his
system.
He
had
discovered
that
a
man
didn’t
have
sex
with
a
woman
at
the
magnitude
that

he’d
had
with
Jayla
and
not
have
some
lingering
effects.

Lingering
effects
he
could
handle;
the
notion
of
some

woman
reeling
him
in,
he
could
not.

Tonight,
and
only
tonight,
he
would
break
his
rule
of
not

performing
repeats
after
an
affair
ended.
But
he
had
to

make
sure
that
the
only
thing
that
was
pulling
him
back
to
her
was
the
incredible
sex
they’d
shared.
Physical
he
could
handle,
but
anything
that
bordered
on
emotional
he
could

not.

Taking
another
deep
breath,
he
finally
raised
his
hand
and
knocked
on
the
door.
As
he
waited
for
her
to
answer
it,
he
hoped
to
God
that
he
wasn’t
making
a
huge
mistake.

He
was
about
to
knock
again
when
he
heard
the
sound
of
her
voice
on
the
other
side.
“Who
is
it?”

“It’s
me,
Jayla.
Storm.”

She
slowly
opened
the
door
and
the
anticipation
of
the

removal
of
the
solid
piece
of
wood
that
stood
between

them
sent
a
shiver
of
desire
up
his
spine
and
down
to
his
midsection.
When
she
opened
the
door
enough
for
him
to
see
her,
the
sight
of
her
nearly
knocked
him
to
his
knees
like
a
gale-force
wind.
It
was
obvious
that
she
had
just

gotten
out
of
the
shower.
Her
hair
was
loose,
flowing

around
her
shoulders,
and
there
were
certain
parts
of
her,
not
covered
by
her
short
bathrobe,
that
were
still
wet.
He
itched
to
take
the
robe
off
her
to
see
what,
if
anything,
she
was
wearing
underneath
it.

“Storm,
what
are
you
doing
here?”

Her
voice,
low
in
pitch
yet
high
in
sensuality,
rapidly
joined
forces
with
desire
that
had
already
taken
over
his
body.
He
was
almost
afraid
to
stand
there
and
look
at
her.
Too
much
longer
and
he
might
be
driven
to
topple
her
to
the
floor
and
make
love
to
her
then
and
there.

“Storm?”

Claiming
that
he
just
happened
to
be
in
the
neighborhood
would
sound
pretty
lame
when
she
lived
in
North
Atlanta

and
he
resided
in
the
southern
part
of
town.
Believing
that
honesty
was
the
best
policy,
he
decided
to
tell
her
the
truth
as
his
gaze
locked
on
hers.
“Seeing
you
today
made
me
realize
something,”
he
murmured
softly
as
he
leaned
in
her
doorway.

He
watched
her
throat
move
when
she
swallowed.
“What?”

“That
I
didn’t
get
enough
of
you
in
New
Orleans.
I
want
you
again.”

He
heard
her
inhale
sharply
and
the
sound
triggered
the
memory
of
how
her
voice
would
catch
just
seconds
before
she
came.
His
mind
was
remembering
and
his
body
was,
too.
He
was
tempted
to
pull
her
close
and
let
her
feel
just
how
hard
she
was
making
him.
“May
I
come
in?”
he

decided
to
ask
when
she
didn’t
say
anything.

“Storm…”

“I
know
I
shouldn’t
have
come
and
I’m
just
as
confused

about
showing
up
here
as
you
are,”
he
quickly
said.
“But

seeing
you
today
really
did
do
something
to
me,
Jayla,
and
it’s
something
that’s
never
happened
to
me
before.
It
was
as
if
my
body
went
on
overload
and
you’re
the
only
person