The Hotter You Burn

by Gena Showalter

  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."

  *

  BECK 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."

  *

  AS 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.

  "You like that?" He came up on his knees, pressed her other leg to the side and up, opening her completely. He thrust.

  "Beck!"

  His thumb found her sweet spot and circled, circled. Pleasure crested inside her. So close. Almost there. His thumb pressed with more force. Yes! Satisfaction hit, and hit hard. She screamed, utterly consumed by ecstasy.

  "Look at you," he said, and he sounded awed--a little feral. "Look at you, baby." And then his pounding thrusts came faster, so much faster, the tether to his control finally frayed beyond repair.

  He was wild, almost brutal, and she loved it. Loved looking at him. Loved being the object of his passion. His eyes glittered wildly, the tension in him clearly mounting. His lips were red and swollen from her kisses. He was a fantasy without equal. And he was hers.

  "Harlow," he cried out, surging in one last time. He gripped her hips with delicious, bruising strength, the tension gradually fading from his features as he came.

  He collapsed over her, quickly rolling to his side so that he wouldn't crush her. Without his strength to hold her, her body was too weak to wrap around him and she, too, collapsed against the mattress. They lay there for a long while, facing each other, the ragged sound of their breathing filling her ears.

  "That was..." she said.

  "World-changing?"

  "Merely okay," she finished, trying not to smile.

  He gave her bottom a light tap. "If you aren't careful, Miss Glass, I'll start again, and I won't stop until I've made you admit the truth."

  "No, no," she said with mock horror. "Anything but that." Then she chewed on her bottom lip. "Will we do it again?"

  "Definitely."

  "When?"

  "Impatient?"

  "Yes!"

  "You'll be sore."

  "I don't care."

  He smoothed the hair from her cheeks, only to gaze at his hand and stop, as if the appendage had done something it shouldn't have. A flash of fear crossed his face before he donned a blank mask. He rose from the bed, disposed of the condom.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, worry chasing away her languid satisfaction. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, no longer quite so relaxed with her nudity.

  He climbed in next to her and turned her, drawing her back to his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, one of his legs fitting between hers. "Round two will have to wait. I'm tired, and I need a nap. Go to sleep. We'll work out all the details when we wake up."

  Details? "What details?"

  He kissed the shell of her ear. "We'll discuss them when we wake up. Now go to sleep."

  But after that, how could she?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BECK'S WORDS PLAGUED Harlow every minute of naptime. They plagued her while the two of them ate dinner alone in the kitchen and Beck hand-fed her. While they climbed back into bed and watched TV. While they made love again. While Beck slept peacefully.

  By the time morning arrived, the fog of desire had faded, her thoughts clearer than they'd been in a long time--since meeting him, in fact.

  We'll work out all the details in the morning, he'd said. And before making such sweet love to her, he'd said, If it's the only way I can have you, that's the way it'll be.

  It--meaning commitment.

  Realization hurt. Beck hadn't jumped into this relationship with her because he loved her or even liked her. He hadn't even committed because he couldn't stand the thought of being without her. He'd done it because it was the only way he could sleep with her.

  In other words, he felt as if she'd backed him into a corner.

  What kind of future would they have if he felt trapped by her? What would happen when he came to resent her
for it? When, not if. Sharp thorns of bitterness would set in, that's what, and each would be aimed at her. Hatred would soon follow. Could she really do that to him? Could she really do it to herself?

  She and Beck had been doomed before they'd started, hadn't they?

  But if she left him, if she walked away, she would be fanning the flames of his fears. Could she really do that?

  They needed to talk.

  She carefully extricated herself from his embrace and padded into the bathroom, trying not to panic as she brushed her teeth, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his sweatpants.

  "Harlow?" Beck's voice, tinged with upset. Because she wasn't beside him?

  Hope bloomed, the only rose in a deadly winter. Please, please want me the way that I want you.

  She schooled her features to reveal only calm, then opened the bathroom door. "I'm here."

  He'd thrown his legs over the side of the bed, but at her greeting, his head jerked in her direction, his upset fading. He was breathtakingly naked, his muscled chest on display, his impressive lower half hidden by the sheet they'd shared.

  He smiled at her, a wicked invitation to experience round three. His hair lay in total disarray, the golden tips gleaming in the morning light. His stubble was slightly denser, and her skin already ached for its tickle.

  "I think it's clear I hadn't planned to wake up alone in this bed," he said.

  Do it, before you chicken out. "Does it make you happy to think about a future with me, Beck?"

  His smile dimmed a little. "First, I'm seriously thinking about considering giving you a spanking. Afterward I'll show you where I wanted you to be when I opened my eyes--and what I wanted you to be doing."

  Her stomach knotted and cramped. "Please. Answer my question."

  The smile faded completely, and he rubbed his chest. "Why do a Q and A when there are so many other things we could be doing? Better things."

  Let's try this another way. "Last night, you mentioned going over details we hadn't yet covered. What details?"

  He patted the mattress beside him. "The only detail I'm concerned about right now is your distance. Get over here."

  "What details?" she insisted.

  "And your clothes," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Take them off."

  "Beck. I'm begging you."

  He stood, looking like a warrior of old, ready to claim the spoils of battle.

  Claim me.

  "I'm going to chalk this up to your inexperience," he said, gripping the base of his erection, "but men like sex first thing in the morning, and I'm going to prove it."