Flash Burned

by Calista Fox

  “I am yours. With or without the I dos.”

  “I want the I dos,” he said emphatically.

  “Jesus. Dane.” My heart beat much too fast, my chest rising and falling quickly against his. “You really like keeping me from getting my feet underneath me.”

  “Ari.” His fingers grazed my temple, stroking languidly. “I’ve been blessed with the gift of having a clear vision of the things I want. I don’t let them slip through my fingers. Ever.”

  “But … marriage? Dane, that’s … um … wow.”

  I couldn’t deny the prospect thrilled me. Amazingly so.

  Mrs. Dane Bax.

  Officially, formally Dane’s. Yeah, the thought pretty much rocked my world.

  Yet …

  My eyes narrowed and my mouth dipped.

  “What?” he asked, instantly alarmed.

  “Nothing.”

  His brow furrowed. “Don’t try to hide anything from me, Ari. I can see from your expression that—”

  “No,” I insisted, “you’re reading me all wrong.”

  “You’re frowning,” he pointed out.

  With a soft laugh, I said, “Not for the reason you think. I was waiting for the whole ‘I’d love to be his wife; however…’ to hit me.” I stared deep into his eyes. “But it didn’t.”

  He studied me carefully.

  I cuddled closer to him, skimming my lips over his.

  “Technically,” he said around me nibbling his bottom lip, “you haven’t answered my question.”

  “Perhaps I’m trying to distract you.” I engaged him in slow, sexy kisses.

  Dane let out a primal growl and eased me onto my back with his hard body pressing to mine. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, sliding over mine, tangling with it. He gathered up satin with a hand and lifted the side of my nightgown to my waist. While he kissed me heatedly, he sank deep into me.

  My hips rose and moved with his gentle, sensual rhythm. I twined my fingers in his hair, returning his fervent kiss.

  I was not so spellbound that I was oblivious to the complications of getting pulled further into Dane’s dark, mysterious world. It was just that I couldn’t break free of the mesmeric force that he was—didn’t want to break free.

  Every piece of me, every fiber of my being, was wrapped around this man. I felt it in the way I responded so fiercely to his weight on me, his chest melding to mine, his kisses searing and addictive. I felt it in the way we made love, tenderly yet intensely. I saw it in his scorching gaze when he stared at me, cataloging all the emotions reflected in my eyes. He was equally ensnared.

  And he was right. There was no escape.

  His mouth dragged from mine and grazed my jaw, down my throat, lightly nipping at the places he knew drove me wild. One of his hands slipped around to my backside and cupped an ass cheek, lifting me more firmly against him as he thrust fully and forcefully into me.

  “Dane.” My pulse raged. My insides burned. I draped a leg over his waist, holding him close. One hand remained buried in his lush locks. The other clasped his bulging biceps.

  He was so thick and full inside me, pumping smoothly, the head of his cock rubbing that particularly sensitive spot. Tension gripped me, strong and vibrant, fueled as much by emotion as lust.

  Marriage went against all of my personal convictions, but when we were joined like this I couldn’t deny how perfectly we fit together, how much we belonged together. Regardless of our vast differences. The worlds between us.

  So as Dane’s head dipped and his mouth sucked my satin-covered nipple, I let my anti-matrimony principles incinerate with my body.

  “Dane,” I said again on a sharp moan as the fire flashed through me. “Oh, God.” The erotic sensations intensified, flamed brighter, and then erupted. “Oh, Christ!”

  I cried out as I came, my breath suspended for several moments as the climax took hold, blocking out everything else.

  Then Dane thrust harder. Once, twice, three times. And exploded within me, filling my pussy.

  I clenched him tight, never wanting to let him go.

  Our heavy breaths were one in the quiet room. Our bodies were one. Even our pounding heartbeats seemed to be one. An ethereal bliss consumed me.

  Dane’s warm, soft lips skated over my skin, up my neck. He kissed me softly and asked, “Is that a yes?”

  My eyelids drifted open and I gazed into his sparkling emerald irises. A smile tugged at my lips as tears of happiness pooled in my eyes.

  “Goes without saying, don’t you think?”

  * * *

  The smile that had started the previous evening, while Dane was nestled snugly inside me, remained plastered on my face. I even woke with it.

  Despite being alone in our bed, I couldn’t fight the grin. Or the delirium that flowed through me.

  Sparing a glance at the clock on the nightstand made me grimace. Through my smile.

  It was almost ten o’clock. I never slept late. And I’d missed tee time with my dad.

  Still, I was absurdly giddy as I tossed off the covers and slipped from the bed. Not fully recovered from the whirlwind Lux preparations, Dane’s lovemaking, my nonstop excitement … but feeling refreshed enough not to spend the rest of the day curled in a ball under the down comforter.

  I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, then brushed my teeth. My hair was a tangled mess I didn’t even attempt to straighten. I snatched Dane’s discarded dress shirt from the night before and pulled it on, not bothering to button the flap. I crossed the hall and grabbed a black lace thong from the bureau in the dressing room, then traveled the long, wide corridor, following the scent of huevos rancheros and coffee.

  Passing the great room, I heard Dane on the phone.

  I stepped into the vast space, eclectically decorated with tables, chairs, and sofas scattered everywhere and floor-to-ceiling windows and glass doors that highlighted the dense forest and rushing creek beyond the terrace. The fireplace was lit to keep the morning chill at bay. I was barefoot, but the heated stone floor left me toasty warm.

  And then there was Dane. One look at him and my internal temperature skyrocketed.

  He stood in the middle of the room, wearing dark-gray lounging pants. Nothing more. My mouth watered at the sight of him, so tall, tan, and gorgeous. His sculpted chest and ridged abs drew my attention before my gaze drifted up to his devilishly handsome face.

  Our eyes locked. He said into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” He disconnected and slid the cell into his pocket. “Interesting look,” he told me as he took in my disheveled state. “Damn sexy.”

  “Like I just rolled out of bed after spending the night with a man I couldn’t get enough of?”

  “Or he couldn’t get enough of you.”

  “Ah, except that he left me in rumpled sheets this morning, when he should have woken me up and made love to me again.”

  Dane winked. “As much as I was tempted to do just that, I like you cognizant of me when I’m inside you. As it was this morning … Baby,” he said as he closed the gap between us. “I’m not sure how to break this to you, but you snore like a buzz saw when you’re exhausted.”

  My head snapped back and I playfully swatted at him. “I do not!”

  With a healthy laugh, he said, “I’ll be sure to record you next time.”

  “Dane!”

  He gathered me in his strong arms and kissed me senseless. Then told me in a rumbling voice, “I’m to blame. I shouldn’t have kept you up, or drained you even more by making love to you.”

  “Never say that,” I begged.

  He kissed my forehead. “Why don’t you eat something? Rosa was here earlier than usual and left breakfast. I think she’s worried you’re going to get tired of my limited culinary skills and leave me.”

  “Not a chance. I could starve and still want you.” I kissed him. “But that won’t happen, because we have the very brilliant Chef D’Angelo on our side. He gave me a fantastic recipe for this evening.” I p
ulled away and said, “Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you. My dad and I don’t eat turkey and ham on Thanksgiving Day. We’re going a bit off the beaten path when he comes for dinner.”

  “That’s fine.” One dark brow jerked up. “You did notice the massive amount of food I consumed at all three events yesterday? It’s a wonder I didn’t end up in the ER with my stomach pumped.”

  “No one said you had to eat everything.”

  “It was just so damn good.”

  I couldn’t argue that point. Nor could Kyle, because he’d pretty much scarfed down everything in sight. As had the rest of the staff. The only reason I hadn’t devoured all the mouthwatering food was because I’d been busy assessing the planning my team and I had executed, deflecting Kyle, and trying to placate Dane while I purposely kept him at arm’s length so no one would speculate about us.

  No wonder I’d slept until ten.

  Thinking of that made me jump. “I have to call my dad. We missed a round with him at his golf club—sacrilege in his eyes.” And one more detail in my life that I’d accidentally let slip.

  “I took care of it,” Dane said. “Phoned him a little after seven. I reminded him about all the activities at the hotel yesterday and how fatigued you were. He completely understood. We rescheduled for noon, if you’re up to it.”

  My heart melted. “You don’t miss a beat, and think of everything.” I kissed him again, then added, “I’ll hop in the shower and we can go.”

  I whirled around, but he snaked an arm around my waist and hauled me up against him, my back to his front. “Not so fast. There’s time for you to eat breakfast, and you’ll need the fuel for the course.”

  “True.”

  “Plus…” He turned me to face him. “I want you to acknowledge what happened between us last night.”

  I toyed with him. “A really great orgasm?”

  He nipped at my lower lip. “Now’s not the time to be a smart-ass.”

  “Actually, sarcasm and comedy are all about timing.”

  His eyes smoldered. My body burned.

  “You win. As always,” I said. “In addition to a great orgasm, I agreed to marry you.”

  “Yes, you did.” His mouth sealed mine in a tantalizing lip-lock that made my toes curl and my pussy throb.

  He didn’t let up and I melted against him, grateful for his strong arms holding me tight. Mine encircled his neck and I clung to him, letting him take his time, letting him take the lead.

  Until I lost myself in him.

  * * *

  We were a few minutes late for our rescheduled tee time with my dad. He pretended it was no big deal, but I could tell it irked him, being the former pro that he was. My game was severely off, which also concerned him. I didn’t give a damn about my score. How was I supposed to concentrate when all I could think about was Dane—and the fact that he wanted to someday marry me?

  Following an unusually poor showing on my part, but stellar on Dad’s and Dane’s, we met up at the house.

  “This is for you,” my father said as he handed over a lovely autumn centerpiece for our dinner table. It didn’t quite scream Thanksgiving, because he wasn’t into holidays. Hadn’t been since his nasty divorce from my mother, whom I’d rarely ever spoken with after I’d turned eighteen. Until she’d shown up on my doorstep a couple of months ago, trying to extort money from me. Telling me she’d exploit the affairs she’d had when my dad was on his PGA tours with a tell-all book.

  Dane had eventually stepped in … and that had been that. I’d never had to mention a word to my dad or freak him out in any way, for which I was grateful.

  “This floral arrangement is perfect.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I left the men to football on the ginormous screen in Dane’s theater room while I went into the kitchen. Chef D’Angelo had sworn I couldn’t fuck up his extremely detailed instructions for Chicken Saltimbocca and I prayed he was right. Not only did I want my father to enjoy dinner with us, I also wanted to impress Dane with my developing culinary skills.

  A small insecurity I couldn’t shake. He excelled at everything. Even as he joked about not having much talent with food and saying all he knew about cooking came from Betty Crocker—since he’d grown up having personal chefs at his beck and call—he still made the most amazing omelets and eggs Benedict. Maybe it was crazy to want to do something just slightly better than him. I suspected this was the only arena in which I could compete.

  So … game on.

  I had a couple of hours to prepare, since we’d had a late lunch on the course. Therefore, I pan-seared boneless, skinless chicken breasts and then slow-cooked them in a creamy white-wine-and-asparagus-flavored Alfredo sauce I concocted, with fresh prosciutto, sage, and chunks of mushrooms. I added crisp asparagus spearheads toward the end of the process, along with quarters of cherry tomatoes, so they were warmed but still juicy. Then I sliced the chicken and arranged it on a platter, drizzling the sauce over it.

  As a secondary dish I grilled a couple of medium-rare, peppercorn-encrusted New York Strips.

  I set the largest of the tables on the patio so I could place all of the food there with us and no one had to move to enjoy. I served a tossed salad with a zesty Italian dressing. Fettuccine accompanied the chicken; whipped garlic potatoes complemented the steak. I’d also baked sourdough and artisan breads, which I paired with olive oil and balsamic vinegar with rosemary, and a basil aioli.

  Dane selected the wines from his vast cellar and also nestled a bottle of private-reserve Dom in a chiller.

  “This is quite the feast, sweets,” my dad said as he eyed the spread.

  “Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” I quipped.

  “It’ll be fantastic.” He grinned. “I didn’t realize you cooked more than spaghetti and fish.”

  “I’ve been spending a lot of time with the Food and Beverage people at work—I’m sort of inspired. Really, considering how much I’ve eaten the past couple of months, it’s a wonder I’m still hungry tonight. Or that I have any clothes that fit.”

  “You look sensational, as always,” Dane said with a wink as he offered a glass of bubbly.

  My cheeks flushed over his flirtation in front of my father—who cleared his throat and tried not to appear uncomfortable with the way Dane gazed so lustfully at me.

  Unfortunately given my mass consumption of food of late, I couldn’t block the flash of Dane’s childhood friend Mikaela Madsen from my mind. His supertall, superhot, supermodel-like friend, to be exact.

  She’d attempted to buddy up to me when she’d seen Dane and me together a few times, but then dropped out of sight when I’d left the Lux. And Dane.

  I was certain that once she returned from Italy with her boyfriend and soon-to-be business partner, Fabrizio Catalano, and discovered I was back at the hotel—and back with Dane—that she’d be knocking on my office door with gifts, like before. Keep her enemies close, I suspected was her game.

  She had her own security badge for 10,000 Lux, after all. Something no other nonemployee possessed, given Dane’s ultra-tight safety and confidentiality measures. They didn’t apply to Mikaela. I’m not sure any rules did.

  But I didn’t want to spoil the evening with thoughts of the Heidi Klum look-alike, so I forced myself to get over it.

  When both men had champagne in hand, Dane casually said, “Here’s to good company, good food, and good health.” Not making a fuss about the holiday. I appreciated that greatly, and I could see that my dad did as well.

  We all clinked rims and sipped.

  “Mm, the expensive stuff,” my father said, impressed.

  “We’ll break out the scotch and cigars later,” Dane tempted him.

  “Now we’re talking.”

  I gestured for them to sit and started passing the salad and bread around. Dane graciously opted for my dad to take the head of the table, even though it was Dane’s house, his domain. I found that respectful. Clearly, it was one more thing about my
boyfriend that my father had to admire, regardless of how he felt about Dane being too old for me at thirty. Really, I thought that was code for Dane being too mature and sophisticated for me. Not to mention well beyond my tax bracket.

  I’d gotten an earful of Are you sure you know what you’re doing, sweets? when I’d told my father I was moving in with Dane. But maybe now he saw that I hadn’t turned into a Stepford or become some sort of concubine.

  Actually, I supposed I did serve that last purpose, since we weren’t married. And hardly a day went by without us stripping each other bare and going at it like sex-starved addicts.

  The smile returned. I just couldn’t contain it for long.

  After dinner, Dane and my father surprised me by offering to clean up, but I shooed them away for more football and the afore-promised scotch and cigars on the patio off the theater room. I didn’t need them throwing my organized kitchen off-balance. I’d rearranged all the cabinets and drawers, since I wanted everything in its proper place so I could find even the most minor of accessories.

  My OCD made me a successful planner, but it also made me anal-retentive about my workspace. Even Rosa had had to learn where I now kept dishes and flatware and how I wanted the pots and pans arranged on the rack that hung over the large island.

  I served chocolate lava cake and coffee during halftime, bypassing the traditional pumpkin pie. My father stuck around for the rest of the game, which pleased me. I could tell he’d reluctantly had a good time, even clasping Dane on the shoulder as they shook before he kissed me and climbed into his car.

  We went back inside the house once my dad had cleared the gate. I hoped he could find his way out. It was a tricky location, set off back roads in scenic Oak Creek Canyon. But I’d given him detailed written directions, so I figured he’d be okay.

  “I’m ready for a shower,” I said. “After golfing and cooking … I must stink pretty bad.”

  Dane chuckled, low and deep in my ear as his arms slid around me from behind. “You were amazing today. Dinner was incredible.”

  “Thank you. My game, however, was atrocious.”