The Hotter You Burn (21 page)

“What if I already have?” She kissed the corner of his beautiful mouth. “What if I pick you?”

He closed his eyes, and his breathing was as choppy as her own. “You were once the girl who only wanted what she couldn't have. What happens when you have me?”

“I'm not that girl anymore. I keep you.”

“Will you?” His lids flipped open, revealing desperation, even anger. “You wanted me to stop deflecting and talk about myself. Well, here you go. I'm the guy who's lost everything he loves one too many times. I've never been enough for the people who are supposed to love me back. How could I be enough for you?” He shook his head. “So you'll pick someone else, and the cravings will stop for us both. We'll remain friends.”

Heartbreaking commands steeped in more of that awful fear. Fear she couldn't fight for him. Only he could wage that war.

A cough drew their attention, and they broke apart almost guiltily, though Beck maintained contact, locking his arm around her waist.

“What?” he snapped at the interloper.

Jase, she realized, whose smile projected only sadness. “Your friends are here, and apparently each guy assumed he would be on a private date with, and I quote, the most beautiful woman God ever created.”

That's
how Beck had described her? No pressure.

“No one realized this would be a
Bachelorette
situation,” Jase continued, “and everyone is a little weirded out. If you don't get out there soon, no one will have a chance to meet Harlow because everyone will have left.”

“We're on our way.” As soon as Jase vanished around the corner, Beck pulled her close for another bone-crushing hug and kissed her temple. “I'm sorry. I just... I'm sorry.”

Stay the course
. “How did you get these men to come? Everyone in Strawberry Valley hates—”

“They aren't from Strawberry Valley. You were fine with Dorian living in the city, so I figured you'd be fine with these guys living in the city.” He hooked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Once they see you, they'll be willing to move.”

Romantic words. Sweet words. Hated words. “You're sure this is what you want?”

He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. “No, but I'm sure it's what I need.”

Another baby step, but not enough. Not nearly enough. “All right.” They would soon find out just how much he liked what he thought he needed. “I'll pick someone.”

He turned away from her, balled his fist and even raised it to the wall as if he longed to punch. “Good,” he said, arm falling to his side without inflicting any damage. “Let's do this.”

He led her out of the hall and into the masses.

* * *

H
ARLOW
 
STOLE
 
THE
 
SHOW
.

Beck enjoyed this peek at the confident girl she'd become. Enjoyed it as much as he hated it.

At some point during the party, after he'd introduced her to eleven different single men, feeling a bit like a pimp, she'd stopped leaning on him, stopped clutching his hand. Eventually she'd let go of him altogether and even stopped glancing his way. Several guys had made her laugh.

Now she held court. Unable to look away, Beck leaned a shoulder against a corner wall. She graced the center of the living room, men circling her, enchanted as she told a story about beating up the neighbor boy for stealing apples from her orchard. Her mother had sent her to her room, and when she came back to check on her sweet little princess to make sure a lesson had been learned, she found Harlow building a Lego Death Star “to destroy the entire farm.”

Never told that story to me.
But oh, he could well imagine what a terror Harlow had been. Might have even given him a run for his money. Or joined him, so they could conquer the world together.

“I'm ready for this to be over.” Jase sidled up to his side. “She found the right one yet?”

“No.” Though Harlow could have any—or all—of them.

Some of them might be planning to take her away from me even now.

He downed the rest of his beer.

West came up behind him. “I'm going to politely disagree, Beck, my man. I think she's most into Cooper.”

Cooper Hayes. No. Hell, no. Harlow would not become Harlow Hayes. “Alliteration?”
Not on my watch
. “I'll die first.”

“I'll pretend you're not coming up with creative objections out of desperation if you'll tell me why the hell you invited him,” Jase said.

“A moment of insanity.”

“One that hasn't let up, I see,” West muttered.

Coop took Harlow's hand, kissed her knuckles and led her away from the crowd. He stopped in a private corner and said something to make her laugh. Beck claimed Jase's whiskey and drained it, then focused on his breathing. In. Out. Good.

“I'm going to ask this only once,” West said. “Are you sure this is what you want? What you need? Her with another man. Do you really believe your feelings for her will fade? Think before you answer,” he said as Beck opened his mouth. “Because I'm going to take you at your word, and if that word is yes,
I
am going to lay claim to her. Because honestly? I would marry her if it meant easing you of this torment.”

West and Harlow? Never!

Coop reached for her, and she backed up. She caught herself and stood still while Coop sifted strands of her silken hair between his unworthy fingers.

She'd no longer backed away from Beck, now only ever leaned into him. But for how much longer? When would she begin to seek comfort from another man?

He watched, mesmerized, as she twirled the strands of hair to remove them from Coop's grip. Despite the little hiccup—the guy had moved too fast for her—her smile was genuine and as sweet as sunshine as she spoke to him.

Was she falling for him?

She can't. She's mine.

The words echoed in his mind, and for once, he didn't try to fight them, just let them fill his awareness, testing their truth.
She's mine. Mine. Miii-nnne.

Was she?

He hated the thought of her with another man and really hated himself for pushing her in that direction. He was happiest when they were together. He suffered when they were apart—and it wasn't ever going to stop, was it?

He expected panic, a frantic need to flee, to get the hell away from the woman threatening to destroy life as he knew it, but as he drank her in, the eyes he loved to drown in, the skin he would sell his soul to touch, all he felt was gut-wrenching desire.

Change? Bring it on.

He'd been a coward, just as she said. He'd denied the truth, too afraid of the possibilities. But he never would have allowed her to pick another man, he realized. As hard as he'd been pushing her in that direction, he'd been creating obstacles. Even today, he'd warned each and every guy. Pain awaited anyone who hurt her, even in the smallest way.

Mine.
And it was time he took what belonged to him.

“Out,” he bellowed.

All eyes darted to him.

“Out. Now.”

“Finally.” West grinned before pasting on his scariest scowl. “You heard the man. Out!”

“Don't make
me
tell you to go.” Jase acted as a bulldozer and began herding the guys toward the door.

Frowning with dismay, Harlow followed after Coop.

“Not you, baby,” Beck said, striding across the room.

Her eyes widened at his approach, and damn, she was lovely. Innately sensual.
And all mine.

Without a pause in his step, he took her hand and led her into the hall. For her, he would willingly put himself into the barbed, gilded cage known as a relationship. He just couldn't let her go.

“What's going on?” she demanded.

“What should have happened weeks ago.” He kicked his bedroom door closed and swung her around, crowding her against it. The dark tension he'd suffered with all these many weeks finally abandoned him, replaced by a tension of another sort.

“Beck.” Her lips parted on a gasp, one he caught with his mouth, desperate to taste her. But she didn't kiss him back; she shoved him away. Or tried to. He wouldn't budge. “No.” She shook her head. “I'm not letting you do this to me. You kiss me when the mood strikes, then tell me to be with someone else when fear hits. Well, I refuse to be treated that way. I'm leaving.” She spun, placing her back against his chest as she tugged at the knob.

“Scared now that you're getting what you asked for? Well, that's just too damn bad, baby.” He kept his hand flat on the wood, ensuring it never opened.

“Getting what I asked for?” She glared at him over her shoulder. “You came on to me, then told me to find someone else. Now you're coming on to me again. What will happen tomorrow?”

“I won't be pushing you at anyone else. Not again.” Not
ever
again.

A tremble started in her chin, then spread to the rest of her.

“Don't cry. Please, don't cry.”

Defeated, she pressed her forehead against the door. “You've always been good at saying the right things, but not so good at doing them.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize how hard it would be to see you with other men. I was
seething
inside and wanted to commit cold-blooded murder. You're mine, and no one else is
ever
allowed to have you. Tonight I'll prove it. You asked for a relationship, a commitment,” he said. “You insisted on both, in fact, and if that's the only way I can have you, that's the way it'll be. We're together. I won't ever lie to you, and I expect the same from you. Is that acceptable to you?”

Slowly she turned. Shock, wonder and hope stared up at him, razing wounds deep in his chest. “Beck...”

“Say yes. Nothing else matters right now.”

“I— Yes,” she whispered.

Good. “Now take off your clothes.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

S
OMETHING
 
ABOUT
B
ECK
'
S
 
words bothered Harlow.
If that's the only way I can have you, that's the way it'll be.
But at the moment, she reeled too wildly to care. She and Beck were an actual couple. He was in this, with her all the way.

“I know you're inexperienced in these matters.” The hot intensity of his gaze belied the low gentleness of his tone. “But I'm on the verge of a meltdown. I need you naked as soon as possible. Take off your clothes, baby.”

With trembling hands, she reached for the top of her dress. All she had to do was slide the material down, but she hesitated. As vulnerable as she was feeling, she didn't want to do this alone.

She dropped her arms to her sides, whispering, “
You
take them off me.”

An expert, he hooked his fingers inside the bustline and, with a single tug, had the material pooling at her feet, leaving her in undergarments and hooker heels. “Step out of the dress.”

The moment she obeyed, he had her bra unhooked. The garment fell away, his fiery gaze locked on her breasts as her nipples puckered with painful precision.

“These sweet little jewels were made for me alone.” He cupped her, tracing his thumbs over the distended peaks. He'd always been a seductive force, but today, this moment, he was raw carnality made flesh—and utterly irresistible.

“They're small,” she said, knowing he'd been with big-chested beauties like Tawny.

“They're perfect. They're all I've wanted since I met you.
You're
all I've wanted.”

He dropped to his knees, reverently removed her shoes one at a time then tongued the waist of her panties until he had the material firmly between his teeth. He dragged the tiny scrap of fabric down, down, finally reaching the floor.

Skin heated. Goose bumps broke out. A quiver teased her deep, deep inside as languorous pleasure flooded her limbs. All she wanted to do was melt into him, meld onto him.

“I want to see you, too,” she said.

“You will. Trust me.” He stood, his hands sliding around her, one at her nape, the other at her lower back. He dragged her flush against him, lowering his head, claiming her mouth in a single swoop. His tongue thrust against hers, taking, demanding, and when she met him with a thrust of her own, he went wild, feeding her the most rapturous passion. The kiss should have sated her in some way, but it only stoked her appetite higher.

Beck backed her toward the bed, and when her knees hit the side of the mattress, she went down. He didn't follow her right away but stood between her spread legs, his breaths coming shallowly, hollowly, tension tightening his features. His pupils were so large his eyes appeared black—twin stormy nights.

He gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked the material over his head, baring his gorgeous chest. His pecs were muscular, decorated with sinew, his nipples small and brown, his stomach roped with strength. She wanted to follow his golden-tipped goodie trail with her tongue.

“Let me.” She sat up and, with her gaze locked on his face, unfastened his pants. He wore boxer briefs, his erection straining past the top. She thought about the time he'd gone to his knees before her—thought about the things she could do to
him
—and moistened her lips.

His fingers curled more firmly around her nape. “Kiss me,” he croaked, and she knew he yearned for her to do it. “Kiss me and never stop.”

“Yes.” She pushed his underwear down, freeing the rest of him, then leaned forward and
liiicked
the tip.

He shuddered, his fingers combing through her hair, fisting the strands. She licked again and again before swallowing him down, as far as she could go.

A hoarse groan left him. “That's the way, baby. Just like that.”

Lifting her head, she said throatily, “I've never done this before. Tell me if I do something you don't like.”

“If you're doing it, I'll like it.” He traced his fingertips over the rise of her cheek, his features infinitely tender. “Take me down again and let your tongue ride the underside, then suck me hard on your way back up.”

She did as instructed and drew a deeper groan from him. Emboldened, she did it again and again, quickening her pace.

“Doing so good, baby. Making me so hot.”

His groans became increasingly ragged...until all he could do was pant, the air growing heavy with his arousal, and her own. His reactions caused a passion fever to burn through her. But he fit her chin between the curve of his fingers and thumb, slowly lifting her head.

“I'm not done,” she said.

“That keeps up, and I will be. Lie back.”

* * *

B
ECK
 
HADN
'
T
 
BEEN
 
with a woman he actually knew in—ever. He hadn't realized the tender feelings he'd already had for Harlow would add shocking depth to the experience, a layer of awareness he couldn't deny he relished.

She eased onto the mattress, her luscious body open and vulnerable to him. “Beck...”

The purr of her voice did things to him. Maybe because he knew she didn't always sound that way. Maybe because he knew no one else had ever made her feel so needy, that he alone possessed the power to tempt her.

And she alone possessed the power to unman him.

He kicked off his shoes, stepped out of his jeans and underwear and crawled over her, peering down at her, drinking in the languid desire he saw shining in her heavy-lidded eyes.

She ran her hands, those smooth, elegant hands, up his arms, and the touch meant more than any that had come before, affecting him deeper than skin, blood and bone. He trembled under that touch.

“Second thoughts?” she said, a bit unsure.

“Never.” Sweat trickled from his temple, dripped on her lovely shoulder. “It's been a while for me, and I want this to be perfect for you.”

Her smile was pure sweetness, like sunlight in the middle of a raging storm. “It's with you. It's perfect.”

She meant that. He knew she meant that. He trusted her in a way he'd never trusted another.

“But,” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip, “what did you mean by ‘a while'?”

He fed her the gentlest kiss he was able, one of reverence as much as passion—passion he barely kept banked. “I mean since the day after I met you.”

When she gasped, he could hold off no longer. He kissed her again, letting all that passion loose at long last. Her tongue sparred with his, not just accepting his aggression but returning it. He got lost in the kiss, thrilled in it as it swept him away and consumed him. He didn't have to worry that she would want too much from him. He'd already offered everything. He didn't have to watch the clock or wonder how he'd make his escape when the deed was done. He was right where he wanted to be with the only woman he wanted to be with.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked breathily. “Whatever it is, I'll do it.”

“Just keep breathing, baby.”

* * *

A
S
 
TURNED
 
ON
 
as Harlow was, aching as if she'd never known a single moment of satisfaction, she expected to burst into flames. But hearing those words—
Just keep breathing, baby
—she almost burst into tears.

Had any man ever pleased a woman as much as Beck pleased her?

He opened the upper drawer of his nightstand and set one, two, three condoms on top.

“Um, perhaps you're overestimating my stamina,” she said.

“Or you're underestimating mine.” He kissed and licked his way to her breasts, paying extra attention to her scars, kissing them all better. He sucked one nipple, then the other, switching again and again until she was writhing.

“Let's see how much you liked having your mouth on me, shall we?” He thrust a finger inside her. “Oh, baby. You liked it. A lot.”

“I really did.” She circled his wrist, holding his hand where it was. “Don't stop. Please, don't stop.”

“I'd die first. But you need something else inside you, and I'm going to give it to you.”

“Yesss. Yes. Please.”

“Grab the headboard.”

She obeyed, closing her hands around the wrought iron, and with his hips he nudged her knees farther apart. Farther. Farther still. She attempted to wrap her legs around him, but he was having none of that and spread her as wide as she could go.

“I want to see you,” he said. “I have to see you. All of you.”

Cool air brushed against her most intimate parts, and she shivered. Slowly, languidly, he looked at her, and like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist. They were the only two people alive; it was the sweetest agony she'd ever known.

He returned his finger, then added another. She was stretched, burned, but not enough. She needed more, needed him. Always him.

“You said...something else.”

“You're so pretty here,” he said silkily, “I decided to play a little more.”

He hooked one of her knees over his shoulder, dipped his head and sucked where she ached...ached so badly... Her thoughts careened, split, her pleasure intensifiing, her head spinning.

She closed her eyes, so vulnerable to this man who'd stolen her heart...who would now own her body, and her future. And she nearly came out of her skin when he angled his wrist, the pressure increasing right along with the burn. But the pleasure far exceeded both, and she undulated her hips, sending him even deeper.

“You might just be the death of me, baby.”

“Don't worry,” she panted. “You'll take me with you.”

He continued to play. She thrashed, and she begged. She released the headboard to comb through the silk of his hair, but he told her to assume the position, so she obeyed, the promise of completion beckoning. Completion he never gave her.

“Stop tormenting me!” she finally screeched.

His husky chuckle was strained, a dark caress against her sensitized skin. “If I'm going to come harder than ever, so are you.”

He scissored his fingers, and it was almost enough to send her over, but almost wasn't good enough, and as she hovered at the blunt edge of satisfaction, the agony nearly lost all hint of sweetness. It was painful, being denied what she needed most, and a whimper left her.

He gave her one last lick before pulling out of her completely.

So empty.
“No, no,” she rushed out. “Put them back in.”

“I'll give you something better, just like I promised.” As he loomed above her, light from the overhead fan fell over him, the sweat that had created a fine sheen on his skin glistening. He looked as maddened as she felt.

Under her watchful gaze, he ripped open a foil packet with his teeth. He braced his weight over her with one hand and rolled the latex into place with the other. His fingers found her again, but rather than spearing into her, they guided his shaft into place.

“I don't want to hurt you.” He kissed the corner of her eye, the rise of her cheek, the tip of her nose and slid in an inch. The burning stretch was a promise of what was to come, and she wanted—needed—more.

She planted her feet in the mattress and arched up, taking him another inch.

“You're so tight,” he rasped. “Let's give you a minute to adjust.”

A minute would be an unbearable lifetime. Passion had long since torched her inhibitions, leaving her most primitive instincts to guide her.
Want more? Take it.
She grabbed a hank of his hair and forced his mouth to hers, the desperation of the act drawing an appreciative growl from low in his chest; his tongue darted out to duel with hers. She was already wet, already white-hot, and this was only making her wetter and hotter, but it also seemed to be chipping away at his control. His hips began to move in shallow jerks, sending him a bit deeper...just a little deeper...

“Beck!”

“Doing so good. Taking me so perfectly.”

“You're so big,” she said.

He gave another chuckle, the sound half amusement, half torment. “You'll thank me for my size in a few minutes.”

“Braggart! Just do it.”

He pushed in a little harder, sinking halfway inside her, and wow, okay. No wonder he'd wanted to go so slowly. The pain threatened to overshadow the pleasure again, and she thought she might curse at him. But she knew if she so much as flinched, he would stop and try to prepare her better, and there was no way she could allow that to happen. She wouldn't survive it. Besides, this man belonged to her. She would have him, all of him. Now.

Seeing no other recourse, she dug her nails into his ass and yanked his lower body forward while arching up her hips. He slammed all the way to the root, and a scream burst from her, as much from surprise as from a mixture of pain and pleasure. But he was in her now, filling her. He was joined with her; they were one.

The vulnerability she'd felt before? Nothing compared to this.

“You okay? Tell me you're okay.” At least he was right there with her. Tension ravaged his features, revealing a vulnerability of his own—and an animal hunger he would probably kill to assuage. He was a man on the cusp of having exactly what he wanted, and yet satisfaction still hovered just out of reach. How much longer would his tenuous control last?

A tremor moved through her, and she said, “Keep going.” The pain was already subsiding. Purring, she rubbed her legs up his sides. “Finish me.”

He anchored his hand just under her knee, angling her and applying pressure as her lower body curled into him, then he began to move. In, out. Slowly at first, a mere teasing of what could be, rubbing, rubbing the most intimate parts of her. Then he gave a hard jerk of his hips, going in deeper, impossibly deep, wringing a delighted gasp from her.