The Hotter You Burn

Too far gone to fight his sense of possession, he hooked his foot around the bottom of her chair and forced her chair closer, closer still. Their thighs touched, and she gasped, perhaps at the force he’d used, perhaps with a desire of her own.

He grabbed her by the waist and easily hefted her onto the table, on his feet and between her legs a second later, glaring down at her.

“I want you, and it’s past time I showed you how much. You’ll keep your sweet ass parked on this table and you’ll show me your skills. Me. No one else.” And then his hand was cupping the back of her neck, drawing her forward.

* * *

WHAT THE HECK was happening?

The question echoed inside Harlow’s mind as Beck smashed his mouth against hers. She lost her breath, shook with need, desire and heat, so much heat. Two seconds ago, she’d wanted to lash out at him for his part in tonight’s debacle. Now? She just wanted to melt into his arms.

The mint-and-sugar taste of him tantalized her, and she instantly craved more. Her head swam, their tongues dueling, and even though she clutched at his shirt for balance, she still felt off-kilter. Been so long since I’ve been the center of a guy’s world, but never like this.

He worked her mouth expertly, the pressure fierce but not stinging, as if she were a treasure he wanted to enjoy and protect at the same time. His fingers curled through locks of her hair, angling her head, allowing him to take her mouth even deeper.

Pleasure burned through her, nerve endings she’d never known she possessed coming alive with sensation. Her blood fizzed in her veins, and sitting still became impossible. She ran her hands up the strength of his chest, around his back, desperate to touch more of him, greedy for it.

She felt knots of tension as hard as rock and dug her nails in deep, urging him closer to her. His chest brushed against hers, creating the most delicious friction, sending waves of heat deep in her belly.

“Beck.”

He bit at her bottom lip, and like that, a kiss she’d already considered wild spun completely out of control, tearing through any resistance she might have still harbored. He caressed his hands down the ridges of her spine and cupped her rear. When he squeezed her, skin to blistering skin, she realized the hem of her dress had ridden up.

“You feel so good, Harlow.”

He’d said her name rather than a silly endearment, and somehow that was ten thousand times sweeter. He’d just made it clear he knew the woman he held in his arms. He knew who he kissed as if his life depended on it.

“More,” she demanded. “Please, more.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He tilted her back and nipped his way along her jaw. He licked and sucked on her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. He laved at her hammering pulse, and she nearly shot off the table. The heat of his mouth on her skin...the wet...

Moaning, purring, she tunneled her fingers through his hair to hold him in place.

“The sounds you make...they’re killing me, baby.”

Only fair, since parts of her were dying brutal deaths, as well. The loneliness. The heartbreak. The guilt and shame for a past she couldn’t redo. Here, now, there was only Beck. And his mouth. And his hands. She existed for pleasure, his pleasure, aching to the point of pain.

Led only by instinct, she had no finesse, no defense as she grabbed hold of his belt and pulled him forward, arching her hips. The long, hard length of him ground into the apex of her thighs, and she gave another low, needy moan.

“You said you’d...take care... Beck, please.”

This time, she didn’t have to urge him physically. He ground against her again and again, every point of contact making her gasp and plead for more. If he decided to rip away her panties and take her here and now, she would let him. It didn’t matter that anyone could walk in on them. Didn’t matter that they’d had no discussion about what this would mean, or how this would change the foundation of their relationship. She’d reached a place of no...yes, yes...like that...there!

He rocked into her harder, faster, causing the table to inch backward, banging into the wall. One of the pictures rattled, threatening to fall.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Beck commanded.

The words yanked her out of the moment. He’d said them before—wrap your legs around me—but not to her... To another woman. To Tawny the night Harlow had broken into his house.

One and done.

She was about to give herself to a man who’d made no promises beyond tonight.

It mattered, she thought, cold realization slapping her. This night would mean something to her, but it would be one night in a long line of nights for him. She would want more—always more—but he would be finished with her. One and done. No exceptions. She would have to watch him move on to his next conquest.

Harlow pushed against his chest. He was too strong to budge, but he did lift his head. In the light, his eyes were molten gold, his lips pink, moist and kiss-swollen, and as the tension she’d felt in him revealed fine lines around his eyes, he’d never looked more devastatingly beautiful. A warrior straight from battle, determined to enjoy his prize.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. We can’t do this.”

“We can.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“You want me. I want you. I don’t see a problem.”

He wouldn’t, would he? “You never see a problem, Beck. Not with anyone. And that’s a problem for me.”

Releasing her as if she’d just sprouted horns and fangs, he ran his tongue over his teeth. A cry of disappointment bubbled in her chest, but she swallowed it back.