The Hotter You Burn

by Gena Showalter

  "In the past two minutes?"

  She nipped at his nipple. "Seems like forever."

  He cupped her bottom and squeezed. "Careful. You keep that up, and you'll find yourself flat on your back, Beck Jr. deep inside you."

  "You mean the Baconator?"

  He barked out a laugh. "You've named my penis the Baconator?"

  "What? I like bacon."

  "Well, I'm naming your breasts Strawberry Pie and Strawberry Shortcake." Rolling her to her back, he cupped the strawberry twins, licked one nipple, then the other. "Hey, girls. Did you miss me?"

  Moaning, Harlow ran her fingers through his hair. "They missed you so much."

  "Good. Wrap your legs around me, and I'll give them a more intimate hello," he said, and when she stiffened suddenly, he lifted his head. "What's wrong?"

  Habit urged her to say the typical, "Nothing. I'm fine." But if she trusted him, she would share with him. "I've heard you say that very thing to other women."

  His brow furrowed with confusion. "How do you know?"

  "When I was camping on my--your--land, I would come to see the house every night and there you'd be. And it doesn't bother me anymore, it really doesn't. I don't know why I reacted that way. I'm sorry."

  He peered at her for a long while, his expression intense but unreadable. Finally he said, "Wrap your legs around me, Harlow."

  She did--without stiffening--fitting her body around his, placing her core right against his massive erection. His hiss of breath blended with her deliciously agonized gasp.

  "Do you know what I remember about those women?"

  She shook her head, not sure she really wanted to know the answer.

  "Nothing. And do you know what I'll always remember about you?"

  Melting into the mattress while somehow dissolving into him, she scraped her nails down the plane of his back and said, "Tell me."

  "Absolutely everything."

  He gently pinched her chin between his fingers, making sure her gaze remained on him, perhaps wanting her to know, to see, that he meant what he said with his entire being.

  He loves me. He has to love me. But as screwed up as his life had been, he might not recognize the emotion.

  Harlow smiled up at him. "I believe you. Now shut up and earn some points of your own. You win ten for every orgasm you give me."

  Those eyes of melted butterscotch glimmered. "I won't be satisfied until I've received fifty points, so get ready, because I'm not going to stop until I've hit my goal--and even then it's iffy."

  *

  THE NEXT MORNING dawned dark and hazy, rain clouds smeared across the sky, fat and gray, creating the perfect atmosphere for a spooktacular festival. Tents--also known as graveyards--were set up all along Main, offering food and games, everything from Brain Smash to Pin the Guts on the Zombie.

  Harlow, grateful to be alive after driving a car for the first time in years--so slowly half the town honked at her and Beck asked if she'd taken lessons from the good people at the senior citizen home--sipped a sweet tea and leaned against Beck as they strolled down the street. He had his arm around her, proud to be with her no matter how many incredulous stares they received.

  When she'd woken up, he'd had two costumes laid out. A sexy lion for her--fake ears with a thick, blond mane, a scrap of faux fur over her breasts and a short skirt complete with a long, curling tail--and a sexy jungle safari lion tamer for him.

  When she wobbled on her faux-fur high-heel boots, he laughed and said, "Trouble walking on your own, baby? I did earn eighty points, after all."

  "Only because I graded on a curve." But he'd definitely be earning more points today. His costume consisted of a sleeveless orange hunter's jacket over a bare chest, ripped jeans and combat boots. Oh, and she couldn't forget the whip draped over his shoulders.

  "No, you had to give me double points for those last two--"

  She slapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't you dare say it. Besides, you shouldn't gloat. I earned three hundred points for those last two...you knows."

  He plucked her hand away and smiled so tenderly she almost melted. "That you did."

  She glanced around to distract herself from his sexiness. People and kids dressed as everything from a zombie clown to a snow queen crowded inside different tents. Red and black balloons stretched from buildings on the left to buildings on the right, forming an arch in the center. Though the street had been blocked off to vehicular traffic, an old-timey green truck inched along the center, the current Miss Strawberry Valley standing in back, dressed as a sexy strawberry and waving.

  Well over a decade had passed since Harlow had actually attended the festival. As a teenager she'd been too "cool," and as an adult she probably would have been stuffed in the dunk tank. Oh, how times had changed. She soaked up every moment of this.

  "Harlow! Harlow! Over here!" Brook Lynn called. She wore a flesh-colored bodysuit with strategically placed fig leaves. She waved from inside the You've Got It Coming booth, a crowd stretching out a mile long to buy bowls of casserole, different sandwiches and slices of pie.

  Harlow waved back. Jase, Jessie Kay and Daphne were working inside the booth, as well, and when they heard her name they glanced up to smile at her. Jase wore a similiar flesh-colored bodysuit with a single fig leaf between his legs, and oh wow, he looked good. His muscles stretched the suit's fabric, making it ripple.

  Jessie Kay had come as a sexy zombified version of Alice in Wonderland, and Daphne as a sexy Harpy with glittery wings.

  As Harlow acknowledged each of them, so happy she could burst, Jessie Kay called, "If you're hungry, get over here. I promise not to spit in your food."

  "No, thanks. I'm good for now." Besides, if she cut to the front of the line, the crowd of ax murderers and skeletons would mob her. Ever since she'd started working at the inn, they'd been more tolerant of her. Maybe because they'd had closure...or because they'd gotten to spoon-feed her a little of her own medicine. Whatever it was, she would take it over being the town pariah. But there were just some things she dare not risk.

  West, who flanked Harlow's other side, mumbled, "That woman is a menace."

  "Who? Jessie Kay?"

  "As if there's anyone else even half as dangerous."

  Dangerous? "She's awesome," Harlow snapped, defending her friend. "One of the best people I know."

  Beck kissed Harlow's temple. "He's just bitter because he hasn't been able to get into her pants yet."

  "Watch your mouth," West said. His tone was firm, but not so firm she worried they'd break out in fisticuffs anytime soon.

  Beck held up his hands in surrender. "How are things going with your relationship search, my man?"

  "You're finally ready to settle down?" Harlow asked. "Well, make sure any girl you date knows you have no taste and wouldn't recognize perfect girlfriend material if she bit you. Oh, who am I kidding? She'll figure it out on her own after a few minutes in your presence."

  Beck laughed.

  "You guys annoy me," West grumbled.

  Carol Mathis, dressed as a vampire's bride, ambled past Harlow and nodded, publicly acknowledging her presence. Dottie, looking gorgeous in a pink sequin gown with teardrops painted under her eyes, kept pace beside her mother. She smiled and waved, and Harlow eagerly returned the greeting.

  When Dottie disappeared around a corner, Harlow's gaze collided with Scott. He stood across the street, dressed as a cowboy, watching her from the Dead Again booth.

  Beck stiffened, gritting out, "I swear that man wants me to help him."

  "He isn't cursing at me. I'd say he's backed off," she said.

  "Doesn't matter if he's backed off or not," West said. He'd gone all out with his pimp costume, wearing a rainbow-colored faux-fur coat and bell-bottoms, even carrying a gold cane. "He still looked at another man's property, and that's a crime deserving of torture."

  With the bitter twinge in his voice, he sounded as if he knew a little something about that.

  "Property?" she said.
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  "I prefer the word toy," Beck said, and nipped at her ear. "Let me play with you."

  Tawny and Charlene bounded over. Both women wore lingerie. Or scraps of material trying to pass themselves off as lingerie. They each held a gourmet corn dog from Brook Lynn's booth, and Harlow made a mental note: next stop, Brook Lynn's booth, whether the town revolted or not. I want.

  "Hi, Beck. Hi, West," Tawny said, her gaze locked on Beck. She twirled a lock of pale hair between her fingers and licked at the tip of her corn dog.

  If she gave that tasty treat a blow job, Harlow might just go nuclear.

  "You're looking good, Beck," Charlene said. She was a young, newly divorced brunette who'd once helped Harlow terrorize the town, becoming the new queen bee when Harlow retired.

  "Gotta say, you are absolutely adorable as a pussycat tamer," Charlene added, shooting Harlow a gleeful smirk. "You can wrangle me anytime. Again."

  Tawny nodded enthusiastically. "I second that."

  Harlow stiffened.

  Beck offered the pair a cold but gorgeous smile and they preened happily, not seeming to realize the danger zone they'd entered. "Have you guys met my girlfriend, Harlow? Nowadays I spend all my time with my girlfriend, Harlow." Just for good measure, he added, "My girlfriend--Harlow."

  "Hi. I'm his girlfriend. Harlow," she said with a little wave.

  Tawny bared her teeth in a scowl.

  "Harlow Glass," a voice boomed. Scott's voice. She turned, right along with Beck and West. "No one wants you here. Go home."

  Beck vibrated with barely suppressed violence as Scott, who'd said his piece, tipped his hat and ambled off.

  "I'm fine," she told Beck. Her boyfriend. "He's not worth ruining our day."

  "You're not worth it, either," Tawny said, now radiating smug satisfaction, "but that hasn't stopped you from ruining ours."

  West smiled a seducer's smile--one Harlow had never seen him use before, and oh, wow, it might possibly have beaten Beck's for World's Most Devastating. The girls certainly weren't immune. They released dreamy sighs and instinctively stepped closer to the man.

  "Ladies," he said. "We don't know each other well enough, and that's a mighty shame. Though I do recall introducing my tongue to yours, Charlene, when we were drunk--or was that you making my head spin?" He stepped toward them, widening his arms to snake around both their waists, the beefcake in a bitch-sandwich. Taking one for the team? "Why don't we start with you two telling me every detail about your childhoods and end with your crush on me," he said, drawing them away.

  Charlene went eagerly, while Tawny threw a devious glance at Harlow before heading off.

  Beck didn't say another word and neither did Harlow, who was too afraid she'd start cussing.

  A lady keeps the corridors of her lips clean, her mother used to say.

  Not feeling so ladylike now, Momma. Her claws were out, and they were hungry for blood.

  A Ferris wheel had been erected down the street, the first the town had ever had. There was a line almost as long as the one at Brook Lynn's booth, but Beck bypassed it without apology. Not that anyone seemed to care. He even received several pats on the shoulder.

  "Best festival yet," someone said.

  "You sure know how to give good festival," someone else said.

  That's right. He, West and Jase had paid for everything. No wonder no one minded that he'd cut the line.

  "We're next," he told Sunny Day, who stood at the front collecting money.

  "Is that so?" With oil money to burn, and a temper legendary in five states, Sunny wasn't one to give in easily.

  "That's so. How much?"

  The piercing in her nose gleamed, a diamond shiny even without the help of the sun. "Twenty. Each."

  "The sign says five dollars a ride," Harlow pointed out.

  She smacked her gum. "Take it or leave it."

  "We'll take it."

  Harlow finished off her sweet tea with three big gulps, and oh, gross! Tea leaves must have settled at the bottom of the cup, because the drink left a bitter aftertaste for the first time.

  Beck threw the cup in the trash, then dug two twenties from his pocket. Sunny pocketed the cash, unabashed. Never mind the festival's profits were supposed to help add a gymnasium to Strawberry High.

  With a few button pushes, the wheel soon came to a stop.

  "Everyone but Mayor Trueman and his assistant," Sunny said, using air quotes, "can stay put."

  The mayor was not the most liked person in town nowadays. A few days ago, word about his affair with his "assistant" spread, devastating his wife.

  Beck dragged Harlow to the empty cart, ensured her tail was out of the way before buckling in, and then waited until they were in the air to speak.

  "I can't change my past," he said as the wheel started its slow ascent and Harlow had no means of escape.

  "I know." She peered out at the town; the higher they lifted the more she saw. Sweeping hills, flat plains, fields of wheat, cotton trees shedding the small white blooms, valleys with strawberry vines drying out for the cold months ahead.

  "You can't change yours, either."

  "I know that, too." The air smelled so fresh up here. The dew of coming rain dampened her skin. A cool breeze blustered past and she shivered. With Beck, run-ins like this would happen again and again. Women would always throw themselves at him. Always desire him.

  "Talk to me." Beck drew her firmly against his side, shielding her from the worst of the wind. "Tell me what you're feeling."

  A thousand different things. Upset. Remorse. Regret. Resignation. Determination. But at the forefront? "Jealousy," she admitted. "You're mine, and yet they know intimate details about you. They probably discuss you, and even hope to get you back into bed again."

  He kissed her temple, lingering over her skin. "They will never succeed. I've had a taste of you, love, and I am utterly addicted."

  Love. The endearment rocked her, as precious as it was life changing. Did he mean it the way she prayed he did? Did he actually love her as she'd suspected?

  "I know we discussed this, but I need to hear the answer again. Do you ever compare me to them?" she asked.

  "All the time." At her outraged gasp, he laughed. "They lose. Always."

  Slowly she relaxed against him. As the Ferris wheel made its descent, it seemed as if half the town watched her and Beck's cart. He received a few winks, even more thumbs-up. Giving everyone a show, Beck anchored two fingers under her chin, turned her head and kissed her.

  The crowd cheered, and the wheel began another ascent, throwing Harlow's stomach into her feet, making her light-headed and deliciously dizzy. At the same time, passion burned through her, white-hot. With Beck, passion always burned through her. He tasted so good, his heat a soothing balm to her tattered soul, and by the time he pulled away, she was panting, squirming in her seat.

  He rubbed his nose against hers, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones in a featherlight caress. "You're not thinking of leaving me, are you?"

  "I'd rather die," she said, putting everything on the line.

  A flash of relief in eyes now hot with more than desire. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but we are open and honest with each other, so you need to know a different answer would have meant I started playing hardball and let you see my dark side."

  "You have a dark side?"

  "Pray you never meet him. He spanks."

  She chuckled. "I'm beginning to think you've got a secret fetish."

  "Secret? Love, I've been thinking about it since the moment we met. Just been waiting for the green light from you."

  "Well, I will let you spank me the day you let me spank you."

  "So...today?" he quipped.

  Her smile stretched from ear to ear. "You are incorrigible. You know that, right?"

  "I believe the word is pronounced irresistible."

  "And you have no shame," she added.

  "But you love me anyway." As the words echoed between them, he frowned and shi
fted away from her.

  Did he not like the thought of her love? Despite the fact he'd used the endearment with her twice already?

  Her stomach roiled so hard she gasped, and as the wheel continued to climb, the roiling only grew worse. In all her life, she'd only been sick only a handful of times. Her mom used to say she had the immune system of a champion. But the times she had gotten sick, she'd fervently prayed to be wiped from the planet forever; the fever, chills, sweats, and trembles so violent she'd looked as if she were having a seizure had been almost too much to bear.

  This was somehow worse.

  She clutched her stomach, beads of sweat popping up on her brow. She could actually feel the blood draining from her face and knew she was deathly pale, judging by the horror suddenly radiating from Beck.

  "What's wrong, love?"

  "My stomach hurts. Bad." Bile rose.

  "Get us down," he shouted to Sunny. "Now."

  The girl held out her arms, all what am I supposed to do? Pull you off with my she-strength?

  Beck flattened his palm on Harlow's belly and gently rubbed. "Just hold on a little longer, baby. I'll get you home."

  Nausea churned faster, harder, and she gagged. She judged the remaining distance with dread. Not even halfway down yet. She wasn't going to make it, was she?

  "Beck," she said on a moan.

  He understood. He ripped off her cat-ears headband, tucked her hair under the collar of her shirt and held on tight to her waist, saying, "Lean over as far as you can. I won't let you fall."

  At any other time she would have been humiliated. Right then she hurt too much. So she did it. She leaned over and vomited her guts out, spraying whoever stood below their cart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  BECK HAD NEVER been so scared in his life. Over the years, he'd been beaten, sexually used and manipulated by a foster mom, abandoned and forgotten. But this--this was far worse. He'd never had a woman of his own, and he'd never had to worry about anyone but himself. Jase and West had always been self-sufficient. If one of them had gotten sick, they'd sucked it up and yelled at anyone who dared approach. Only in the privacy of their rooms had they curled into balls of pain and rocked back and forth, moaning and softly begging for mercy. The manly way.

  But by the time his friends returned home later in the evening, their laughing voices echoing all the way to the bedroom, Harlow had grown far worse. She'd begun to dry heave, too weak to make it to the bathroom or even hold herself up. Beck had to carry her and anchor her against his chest, afraid she'd drown in the toilet otherwise.