One Hot Secret: A Second Chance Romance (Love on Fire)

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I flash him an amused look. “Dad, that was months ago, and he understood. You were in a lot of pain and entitled to be grumpy.”

  The cast is off, but he’s still walking with a walking stick. He leans to whisper into my ear. “He’s a movie star and the son of Adrian Martin. How many people can say that Kyle Bryce kept them company in the hospital and gave them a ride home?”

  I laugh. I forget that Kyle is not simply Kyle to a lot of people. He’s the Kyle Bryce. One of the most gifted movie stars of our time.

  His imperfectly perfect face flashes in my mind, and tears immediately fill my eyes. I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t cry today. It’s an important day for me with no space for tears and sadness. I should be the happiest person in the world. This is a day I’ve waited for all my life, without knowing it.

  I feel faint with nervousness. What if no one comes? What if I get horrible reviews in the papers? I must have been insane to agree to this.

  “I remember this one,” my mom says, looking up at one of my earlier paintings. “It was my favorite one for a long time.”

  “Do you want it? I can ask them to take it down?” I tell her as she stands in front of the landscape of Santorini Island. It’s one of the places in Europe I’d love to visit.

  “No, of course not. I have so many paintings of yours. Let other people enjoy them too,” she says.

  I notice that my father is distracted by any movement at the door. I haven’t told them that Kyle and I are no longer seeing each other. I can’t keep it from them anymore. I take a deep breath. “Dad …”

  “Ah, there’s the man,” my dad says happily.

  Confused, I turn to the entrance, and when I see him, all air leaves my lungs. It’s him. I’m not dreaming. I stand rooted to the spot as our gazes meet, seeing wariness in his eyes and something else. I don’t care. He’s here! He came.

  I should still be upset. He mistrusted me. He thought I had sold the story of him and Adrian Martin to the press. But as I look at his face and ache to run my hand over his scars, I can’t find it in me to be angry. I’ve missed him so much. I might have been too harsh. Too quick to take offense and look for a reason to end things with Kyle. He had had a nasty experience with a girlfriend selling a story; why would he not jump to the same conclusion about me?

  My heart beats faster as he comes toward us.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Hughes,” he says, bowing respectfully.

  “We’re John and Nora,” my dad says happily. “None of that Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, please.”

  “Okay,” Kyle says.

  He comes to me and kisses my cheek. His male scent envelops me, and I have to bite my lower lip to stop myself from purring.

  “I was just telling Grace here that I owe you an apology for being so grumpy when we first met,” my dad says, completely starstruck.

  Kyle laughs. “You had every right to be. I’d have been worse. My threshold for pain is very low.”

  “Really? How about when stunts go wrong?”

  “Grace?” It’s Greg. I’d been so focused on Kyle that I didn’t realize that the gallery is quickly filling up. My heart jumps to my throat when I see so many people studying my paintings.

  Greg sees my parents and Kyle, and they exchange greetings and pleasantries. Isla and Mark walk in at that moment, and they join us.

  “I want to steal Grace away from you all for a few minutes. Some people want to meet her,” Greg says.

  “Yes, of course,” everyone choruses.

  I meet Kyle’s eyes, and we exchange a warm look that turns my brain to mush. Greg introduces me to so many people, all of whom gush about my work. I have to pinch myself to believe they really like it. A look at the prices and I almost scream, but it doesn’t seem to shock the people looking at them.

  Every so often, I search for Kyle, and each time, I find him looking at me. I want to ask him not to leave, but something tells me that he won’t. My parents are beside themselves with excitement, and when I meet my mother’s gaze from across the room, she flashes me a thumbs-up sign.

  The excitement in the room goes up a notch when Adrian Martin walks in. Kyle winks at me, and I gesture at him a gratitude sign. Greg whispered to me earlier how much work Kyle has done creating a buzz for my show among his art-loving friends.

  And now his father. I make my way to him, and he takes both of my hands into his and kisses my cheek.

  “I’m upset with Kyle for not letting me in on this secret until the last minute,” he says. “I’d have loved to have a private viewing.”

  I can’t believe how perfect the evening is turning out to be. I want to cry from sheer joy, and it’s not because it looks like we might sell all the paintings in one day. No.

  It’s because Kyle is here.

  ***

  “That was a roaring success,” Kyle says to me.

  We are in his car on the way home. He offered me a ride, and I said yes. Anything to spend more time with him.

  “Thank you. Greg told me everything you did to ensure that it was a success,” I tell him.

  He waves a dismissive hand. “Your work did all the work. From tomorrow, everyone in the art world will know your name.”

  A few months ago, such a thought would have had me running for the hills. Now I’m comfortable with my work being known. It makes me feel proud of myself, something I haven’t felt in a long time.

  Too soon, we get home, and Ethan brings the car to a stop.

  “I bought a bottle of champagne for this occasion,” Kyle says. “May I come up and celebrate with you?”

  Relief surges through me. “I’d like that.”

  We get out of the car and make our way to the entrance of my apartment building. This reminds me of the very first time that I brought Kyle home. When he’d still been Jack. It seems such a long time ago. We’re quiet on the ride up the elevator to my floor. My hands tremble as I insert the key into the lock, but I finally get it open.

  “I’ll get some flutes,” I tell him and go to the kitchen.

  When I return to the living room, he has the champagne already opened, and he pours us each a glass.

  “A toast,” Kyle says, raising his glass. “To many more successful shows and a wonderful career as an artist.”

  Gratitude comes over me as we clink glasses. I can’t believe that Kyle is here. In my house. I’ve missed him with every fiber of my being. I love him more than I ever thought it was possible to love a man. He feels like a part of me.

  Kyle takes a sip of his champagne and starts to chuckle.

  “What?” I say.

  “I’m remembering the very first time I came here. You were very adamant about letting me in that it was the first time you’d ever had a one-night stand.”

  I laugh at the memory. “I remember standing at the window and watching you walk down the street. I thought you’d asked a friend to pick you up.”

  “After we made love that night, I knew I was in trouble,” Kyle says in a husky voice.

  My body heats up and pools at my center. I remember every minute of that night. It was the first time I experienced being under the hands of an expert lover. A man who knew his way around a female body.

  “Me too. You made me feel things I’d never felt before,” I tell him. The high of the night is making me braver, or maybe it’s knowing that I’d lost him, and I can’t bear to lose him again.

  Warm, sweet attraction hums through me.

  “I’m sorry,” Kyle says, his eyes burning into mine. “I should have trusted you.”

  I inhale deeply. “I’m sorry too. I should have understood where you were coming from. You’d been betrayed before. By your parents and by your ex. You had every reason to mistrust me.”

  “No, I knew you. You do not have a greedy bone in your body,” Kyle says. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  I smile. “I already have. As long as you promise always to ask me and not jump to conclusions.”

  “I promise.” He closes the gap between us, tak
es the glass from my hand, and together with his, places them on the table. Then he pulls me into his arms and fuses his lips to mine.

  I moan into his mouth as his tongue captures mine. His mouth is hot, and it tastes of champagne and a taste that is simply Kyle. I run my hands frantically over his jacket-clad shoulders, a part of me frightened this is not real, and I might wake up and find myself alone in bed as I’ve done for the last several days.

  We sway against each other as we kiss deeply and explore each other, reacquainting ourselves with each other’s bodies. Kyle pulls away from me, but before I can protest, he slips his hands under my hips, easily lifts me, and carries me to my bedroom.

  He lays me gently on the bed and proceeds to undress me. I’m in a dress, and it takes just a few seconds to get it off. I lie on the bed in a bra and panties, watching Kyle as he undresses.

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and I’ve never felt as sexy as I do at this moment. I drop my gaze to his cock as he steps out of his boxer briefs. I’m so aroused that my thighs are coated with my liquids.

  He comes to me and drapes his body over mine. I hold him tightly to me as he kisses me deeply. I let out a sigh of pleasure when his mouth finds my nipple and sucks on it before moving to the other one. The muscles on his back and shoulders twitch under my touch. Kyle’s cock pushes against my thighs, and I reach between us to stroke it. As I do so, my need for him goes up to unbearable levels.

  “I can’t wait any longer, Kyle. Please. I need you.”

  “I need you too, my love,” he says and comes up to kiss me. He lines his cock up to my entrance, and then without warning, he slams his cock into me. I cry out and cling to him. I brace myself for another thrust. Instead, Kyle stays still, and when I look up, I find him gazing at me.

  “Do you know how much I love you?” he says.

  I shake my head.

  “I love you with all of my soul and being,” he says. “I want you for myself permanently, Grace. Will you marry me?”

  I move my hips, desperate for some friction. “Are you serious right now? A proposal when we’re making love?”

  “I have to use every weapon at my disposal to get you, so say yes,” Kyle says, sweat dripping down his face.

  “Oh God, yes.”

  “To my proposal?” he says.

  “Yes, now fuck me, please,” I scream.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kyle says and proceeds to take me to heaven with his lips and words and body.

  THE END

  Thank You

  Dear reader,

  First of all, thank you so much for reading my books! It’s passionate readers like you that allow me to live my dream and do the thing I love most on earth, which is writing books and entertaining people!

  Do you want more steamy Romance?

  Then make sure to keep on reading! I’ve included a preview of my novel “Say It’s Not Fake”! ;-)

  Preview: “Say It’s Not Fake”

  Get your copy here!

  Prologue

  Kyle

  Eight years ago

  My entire body was on fire. I had never felt so alive. My skin was slick with sweat, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought it would fly out of my chest.

  I was going to come. And come hard.

  “God, you’re amazing,” I rasped, my hips thrusting in time with hers. Her thick red hair was splayed out on the pillow beneath her head. I couldn’t stop tasting her. Kissing her.

  I literally wanted to fuck her forever.

  I felt as if I had been waiting my whole life for this exact moment. And now that I was in it, I could hardly believe it. I kept thinking I’d wake up at any moment to find myself jerking off in my sleep.

  “Fuck me harder,” she growled, her teeth grazing the side of my neck.

  My entire body trembled at the feel of her. I wasn’t dreaming. This was one hundred percent real.

  “Harder!” she demanded, sounding a mixture of frantic and pissed off.

  I wasn’t sure how much harder I could fuck her. We had already cracked her headboard, and the entire bed was in danger of collapsing. But I would give the lady what she wanted. So, I draped her leg across my shoulder, adjusted the angle of my hips, and started pounding away.

  Her loud, guttural groan was all the answer I needed.

  “Yes, oh my God, yes!” she screamed, arching her back.

  Her tits were things of absolute beauty. Pert nipples dark against creamy skin. I sucked one into my mouth. Her fingers clawed my back, and I could feel the walls of her pussy clench around my cock.

  We had been screwing like rabbits for hours. I had become intimately familiar with every plane, every crevice, of her gorgeous body. And it was everything I had imagined and better.

  I had been dreaming of sex with Whitney Galloway since I was old enough to fantasize about anything. I had been in love with her most of my life. Well, at least since I was a pimply-faced middle schooler.

  My best friends Adam, Skylar, and Meg—Whitney’s younger sister—gave me so much shit for it too. I wasn’t the kind of guy who played like I wasn’t into a girl when I was. I wore my heart on my sleeve. It seemed the only person that hadn’t realized I was crazy about the older Galloway sister was the girl in question. She treated me with all the benign indifference of the pretty, popular cheerleader she was.

  So how did I end up dick deep inside her?

  “Wait, don’t come yet,” she demanded, slipping out beneath me. I took the pause in activity to try and get my breath back. This was harder work than playing a football game. I sat back on my haunches and ran a shaky hand through my shaggy dark brown hair. I could probably do with a cut, but Whitney said once she liked my hair on the longer side, so I wore it just the way she wanted.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, worried that I had done something wrong. Because the truth was, this was my first time. Well, technically, this was the third time we’d had sex since I arrived at Whitney’s apartment late last night, but yeah, she was the first girl I’d ever been with. It wasn’t something I went around broadcasting, but yeah, I was a twenty-year-old virgin.

  Sure, I had lots of opportunities and had gone around the first three bases a few times, but I had never gone all the way. Deep down, I knew it was because I was saving myself for her.

  For Whitney Rose Galloway.

  Call me a romantic, or maybe delusional, but I wanted to share that moment with only her.

  Whitney gave me a smile that turned my insides into mush. She went up on her knees and pressed her impressive chest to mine, wrapping her arms around me. She kissed me long and deep. Her tongue practically touched my tonsils. When she pulled away, she turned around, went on all fours, and looked at me over her shoulder. “Come on, then, what are you waiting for?”

  Jesus …

  I gripped her hips and slid back inside her. Slowly. Achingly slowly. I started pumping my hips, my balls slapping against her clit. “Yes, that’s it,” she urged, pushing her ass back against me, taking me so deep I wondered if she could feel me in her throat.

  This new position was fun and all, but I wanted to see Whitney’s face when she came. I wanted to look in her eyes and be in the moment with her. I wanted to touch her face and kiss her lips. I wanted this to mean something.

  Some might call me a sap, but I didn’t care. I had loved this woman half my life. I had wanted to be with her so badly I sometimes thought I’d go crazy with the need. So, yeah, I wanted more from this. I wanted the sex, but more than that, I wanted the connection.

  Not many twenty-year-old guys could think with more than their dick, but I wasn’t most twenty-year-old guys. I was rational and sensible, and I knew what I wanted in life.

  And I knew that I wanted Whitney.

  Yet it seemed Whitney wasn’t in the same headspace.

  When I emailed her a couple of weeks ago saying I wanted to come for a visit, she hadn’t seemed overly enthused by the idea. Yeah, it had been on a whim. I had been kicking around the idea
of coming out to see her since she moved to California to try and break into the movie industry as a makeup artist.

  Our small hometown in Pennsylvania hadn’t felt the same since she left. It felt hollow.

  Adam told me I was setting myself up for a giant kick in the nuts.

  “It’s Whitney Galloway, man,” Adam said when I told him I was thinking of reaching out to the woman of my dreams. He was home from college visiting his parents, thankfully without his obnoxious leach of a girlfriend, Chelsea. We were drinking beers in the Ducates’ backyard, and I was starting to wish I hadn’t mentioned the idea at all.

  Adam shook his head. “She’ll never give you the time of day. She thinks she’s too good for mere mortals. She’s out in Hollywood with movie stars and celebrities. What makes you think she’s going to want a visit from some guy who spent most of his adolescence drooling all over her high heels?”

  Adam’s words felt like a punch to the gut. Even though part of me believed he was right, I couldn’t help feeling like now was the time. We were both adults, and I was tired of waiting for something to happen. I had decided to take life by the proverbial balls, starting with Whitney.

  I had been saving money since I was old enough to start working and had put aside a nice chunk of cash. College wasn’t my thing, so I hadn’t had an opportunity to do much with it yet. I was still weighing options. I was lucky I had parents that supported me in whatever I chose to do. Being their only child, they put all their eggs in one basket, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.

  I didn’t want to make any decisions about where I was going with my life until I saw for myself if something with Whitney was possible. I was willing to throw everything in on a chance with her. A lot of people would call me an idiot for hinging such monumental choices on the desires of a hot chick. But Whitney wasn’t just any hot chick.

  She was everything.

  “Slap my ass,” she shouted, pushing back against my crotch, my dick burying deeper inside her—though I hadn’t thought it possible. I was about to come again. It’s not like I could last long anyway. I was lucky to get past the ten-minute mark.