The Hotter You Burn

by Gena Showalter

  Wait. "You're not mad at me?"

  A flicker of pain in eyes now dark with regret. "If I were mad, would I have called every guy I know to throw a party in your honor?"

  Wait. What? "A party?"

  "In your honor."

  "With every guy you know in attendance?"

  His fingers curled around the comforter, pulling so tight he nearly ripped the material. "We're still on the hunt for your forever man, aren't we?"

  It was like taking a knife to the gut. Or a hammer to the head.

  He still planned to set her up with someone else.

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. "When is the party set to begin?"

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. "In just a few hours."

  The hard lump growing in her throat nearly cut off her airway. "How did you get everyone to agree so quickly?" And why the hurry?

  "I was owed a few favors."

  And he'd decided to call them in--to get rid of her sooner rather than later. "Well, then. A party we shall have," she said, trying to sound excited, sounding hollow instead.

  He offered her a bright smile, but for once, it lacked any kind of light. "Great," he said. "I made it a lunch event rather than a dinner one, so we can spend the evening talking about your impression of the guys."

  "Great," she echoed. "Unless I decide to go home with someone."

  He went stiff as a board. "You will not put out on the first date."

  "Like you can really stop me."

  Ignoring her words, he said, "I went shopping in your RV and picked out a dress, brought it and all your makeup over. You can get ready here."

  "Thanks. A girl couldn't ask for a better friend."

  "We are friends." He reached out, ghosted his knuckles along her jaw.

  The touch, slight though it was, blindsided her, as always, sending electric pulses arcing through her, making her ache and burn. When would his effect on her fade?

  "Friends," she agreed.

  Staring at her intently, he said softly, "I want to be more, Harlow. You know that. But I'm not a forever guy."

  "Why?" Need made her desperate, and desperation made her reckless. "Why do you give so little of yourself?"

  He smiled his most indulgent smile, and it made little parts of her die inside, but as she stared at him, she began to notice a brittle edge to the expression. "Honey, I give the best part of me."

  "No. No." She banged a fist against the bed. "Stop deflecting. Stop charming. You're breaking my heart. The least you can do is tell me the truth."

  All at once, it was as if a light inside him died out, his eyes suddenly a never-ending pit of darkness. "I'm...messed up."

  "So am I!"

  "Harlow," he said, voice raw, almost guttural. "You don't understand."

  "No, I don't. We could be happy together. You just have to give us a chance."

  "Harlow." He combed his fingers through her hair, urging her forward, hugging her close to his chest as if she were precious, and in that moment, that second, she fell totally and completely in love with him. The knowledge shone brighter than the sun, sending shadows of the past fleeing.

  She loved him. Loved his kindness and the complexity of his personality. She loved the way he looked at her, his dark eyes a little wild, a lot hungry. She loved the way he held her.

  And maybe--maybe he'd fallen in love with her, and just hadn't realized it. He'd spent more time with her than any other woman. He enjoyed being with her, and he did everything in his power to take care of her. He was jealous of Dorian and had come to her rescue.

  "We can be messed up together," she said, realizing then she would never give up, would never let him go. He belonged with her, and she belonged with him. That wasn't going to change--a fact that should please him.

  "What if I give you everything," he said, "and it isn't enough? I am not enough. What if you leave me anyway?"

  Lightbulb! He had attachment issues, yes, but he also feared rejection. He'd faced it with his dad, probably even countless families who'd overlooked him in favor of adopting some other kid, maybe even from the kids at the many different schools he'd attended.

  "I wouldn't leave you," she said. I can't. I love you. Would the admission scare him further?

  His features, still infinitely tender, were torturous to behold. "The future is more unstable than dynamite, baby."

  "Yes, but you can't live your life by what-if."

  "I can spend my life preparing for what-if." His grip tightened on her before he let go and stood. "Sometimes suspecting the outcome is better than knowing what actually happens."

  "No. That's the coward's way, Beck, and you'll never find satisfaction living that way, only discontent." No peace, only worry.

  A hardening around his eyes. "Maybe, but there have been times discontent has been my only friend."

  "Well, good news. This change won't hurt you, it'll only help you." I will give you everything. I will prove once and for all you are the one I want--the one I will always want.

  She would have to step out of her comfort zone without the aid of whiskey, but the potential payoff would make any momentary discomfort worth it. This man, and the life they could have together, was worth everything.

  "Harlow--"

  "No. Don't say anything." He'd only hurt her, dig the knife a little deeper, and he needed time to think about all she'd said. She stood and kissed his cheek. "Get out of here so I can shower. I've got a heart to win." Yours.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. He cupped her shoulders, holding on so tight she'd wear the bruises for days. But then he let go, and she missed his strength. He left the room without another word, shutting the door softly behind him.

  Harlow barricaded herself in the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth--twice--and showered. When she emerged, she found the clothes Beck had picked out for her hanging on the back of the door. He must have brought them in while she'd sudsed up, because they hadn't been there when she'd entered.

  Sly Beck. The glass stall had been so fogged with steam she'd missed him--but she'd bet he'd gotten a nice sneak peek at her.

  Silly Beck. He'd made her next play that much easier.

  The dress he'd brought was one she hadn't yet worn. The low bustline would reveal the top edge of her scars, but maybe it wouldn't matter. The white lace would cling to her curves.

  Something she liked about Beck--even when he hoped to foist her off on other men he didn't actually want her to be with, he still helped her look her best.

  She dried her hair, applied her makeup. Just as she was putting on the finishing touches, the doorbell rang.

  She sucked in a breath. The guests had already begun to arrive.

  Now or never.

  A knock sounded at the door. "You ready, baby?"

  As I'll ever be. She raised her chin and opened the door. Beck stood before her, showered and dressed in a sexy black T-shirt and jeans, and her mouth watered. He was casual sophistication, the man every other longed to be. The one every woman desired. As he looked her over, his gaze heated, blazed, the very air around them blistering.

  Slowly she turned for him. "What do you think?"

  "You are so beautiful," he said, voice ragged. He cupped the back of her neck and dragged her close, so close, and held her against his chest. "You are too beautiful for anyone here."

  She gripped the sides of his belt loops. "Tell me something, Beck."

  "Anything." He looked at her as if he breathed for her alone. As if his heart couldn't take its next beat without her. As if he cherished her.

  Tremors swept through her. "Did you see what's underneath this dress while you were in the bathroom?"

  "It's all I've been able to think about," he admitted.

  It was a baby step, but a step nonetheless. "It's not too late to send everyone home." She rose on her tiptoes, brushed the tip of her nose against his. Even with her hooker heels, she needed a boost.

  A predatory glimmer in his eyes. "I need you to pick someo
ne else. You have to pick someone else." Again his tone was ragged, quelling the hurt his words would have otherwise caused. "Pick him today."

  "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.

  *

  HARLOW 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 lettin
g 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

  SOMETHING ABOUT BECK'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."