Twisted By Love, Reincarnation Tales, Book 1

by Jasmine Haynes

  It was the only thing he needed, that simple yes. “Is there anyone else here?”

  She shook her head, slowly, still in the same sensual fog he was.

  Unwilling to let her get too far away, he took her with him to the front door as he checked to make sure it was locked. Someone would at least need a card key to get in.

  Controlling only her hand, he pulled her flush against him. “Your office. Where is it?”

  She licked her lips. “My office?”

  He let out the breath he’d been holding. “I don’t think you can begin to imagine how badly I want you. In your office.”

  Still looking at him, she flapped her hand over her shoulder. “Down there. At the end on the left.”

  Relief swept through him. She was his. “I didn’t bring protection, Livie.”

  She smiled. He had the feeling she was glad he hadn’t prepared as if sex with her were a sure thing.

  “There are so many other ways we can have each other, and I want to enjoy every one of them.” He cupped her cheek. “Is that all right with you?”

  She leaned into his hand and licked his palm, a slow, sultry tasting that set his pulse pounding. Then she tipped her head, met his gaze, and nodded.

  “Then come with me.” He could barely keep himself from running, his mind still a jumble of sensations.

  They passed an open pen of cubicles, then she unlocked her door. “You first,” she said softly.

  Moonlight streamed through her office window, and the lights of the Bay Bridge sparkled across the water.

  “Nice view, isn’t it?” She sounded nervous again.

  He turned to find her leaning back against the closed door, her hand on the knob as if she planned to make a quick escape. Bern advanced on her slowly, giving her time to move if she wanted to. She stayed right where she was, the city lights glimmering in her gaze.

  He cupped her cheek, held her with only that touch. “I like this view better,” he murmured. “So much more spectacular than anything out there.”

  Chapter Six

  Livie’s heart was beating so hard and fast, his compliment almost drowned beneath the sound. His touch on her face made her skin feverish. How did he do that? Make her want and need so badly she found herself at his mercy in her dark office. But she did want it. She wanted him. He was a silver-tongued devil, but she hadn’t needed much convincing after he kissed her. No, she’d been close to begging. The salty taste of his palm lingered on her tongue. It was crazy, she didn’t know him, yet she had to have more of him.

  “Now, where were we?” he murmured.

  Where were they? Oh yes, she’d been ready to let him take her right there in the lobby. Only an instant of sanity had stopped her.

  “You’re thinking too much, Livie.”

  He swung her around until her back was to the desk. “I was unzipping your dress.” Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he leaned down, skimmed his hands over the backs of her knees and up her thighs. As her dress bunched above her hips, he hoisted her to the wooden desktop.

  She let him do it all without a protest. His hands on her blew her restraint and her common sense to the four winds. There was only lust at first sight and the overwhelming need to touch and be touched. Not by anyone, but by him.

  He took her lips, lifting her hair at the same time, sifting it through his fingers. Finding the tab of her zipper, he tugged, her dress falling away to bare her shoulders. He sucked a patch of sensitive skin at the crook of her neck.

  “You taste like strawberries.”

  She laughed, a husky sound low in her throat. “You’re imagining things.”

  He licked along her collar bone. “No, it’s definitely strawberries. Taste for yourself.”

  His tongue slipped along the seam of her lips, and she tasted the haunting sweetness of fruit. She opened to him, invited him deep, shrugging her shoulders so the straps of her bra slipped down her arms. Battling him was impossible. She’d have to fight her own desires as well. She’d never win. A lace cup caught on the upper swell of her breast.

  Livie gave in to what she’d been imagining for two weeks. She guided him to her breast with her hand at the back of his head and said, “Taste me here.”

  The dark broken only by moonlight granted permission for anything. The wood desk was cold against her bottom, but he heated her from the inside out. “Taste me, please.”

  She pushed her pencil holder, stapler, and tape dispenser aside. Pencils and pens skittered across the desk and rolled onto the carpet. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she eased down on the wood, her head coming to rest on the thick folder of credit memos. He followed her down, nudging aside the bra’s cup, tasting, tracing, then finally he sucked her nipple into his mouth. A sharp jolt shot down between her legs, and she moaned. He pulled her leg to his waist, stroked the back of her thigh, her calf, then back again to glide close to her center.

  “Cherries,” he murmured, blowing on her moist nipple. “I like fruit.” He tipped his head to look at her, his eyes gleaming. “What do you suppose you taste like down here?”

  He stroked along the outside of her panties, unerringly hitting the swollen nub beneath. Livie arched, bit back the groan that rose to her lips and raised her other leg to his hip.

  “Peaches,” she whispered. “I’m pretty sure it’s peaches.”

  He hooked his fingers in the top of her pantyhose and yanked her panties and hose to the edge of the desk. “Peaches happen to be my favorite fruit.”

  Oh God. She hadn’t felt a man between her legs in so long. Hadn’t grown hot and wet with the thought of a male tongue buried deep inside her. Her career and watching out for Toni had taken all her focus. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed sex, and she wanted this man to remind her of all the glorious sensations she’d put on hold. Now. All night long. For as long as she could have him.

  A draft of cool air brushed her wet nipple as he backed off to roll her underwear down her legs, baring her to his gaze.

  “Pretty as a peach.” To punctuate, he drew a long finger through her moist heat, circling. “Do you like that, Livie?”

  “Yes,” she managed on a gasp.

  “How about this?” He leaned over her, his lips almost touching her mouth, as he slid two fingers inside, using his thumb to play her.

  “Ah yes, that feels good, too.”

  “Tell me what you want, Livie. Tell me exactly what you want, and I’ll do it. As long as it makes you scream when you come.”

  “Put your mouth on me, Burn.”

  He shifted, pulling over a chair, then dragged her o the edge of the desk and slipped her legs over his shoulders. “Hold on, baby because I love peaches.”

  He devoured her, using his fingers, his lips, his teeth, and his tongue. She tightened her legs around his head when they shook, tugged and pulled at his hair, hanging on as if he’d try to get away. She wriggled and writhed on the desktop, squirming when the pleasure hit such intensity that tears burned her eyes. He held her fast to his mouth. She threw her head back, gripping the opposite edge of the desk, and the moonlight fell straight into her eyes, so harsh and bright, she flew apart with the brilliance of it.

  “Scream, baby, come on, scream,” he urged, far away and distorted, then he did something with his tongue, pushing hard against one ultra sensitive spot. And Livie screamed.

  She came to herself gasping for breath, her breasts bouncing, bathed in moonlight. Burn’s head was between her legs, her thighs white against his dark, disheveled hair. Never before in her life had she had sex in the office. This was a first. She had feeling that he could provide a lot of firsts, and she wanted to try them all.

  Livie rolled to her elbows, then straightened the locks of his hair. “I think I pulled it out by the roots.”

  “I’d go bald to hear you scream like that every time.” He grinned. “I’ll never eat my mother’s peach cobbler without thinking of you.”

  She swatted playfully at his nose. “Stop that. You’re going to
embarrass me.” She couldn’t believe what she’d just done, but she wasn’t about to stop now. Holding out her hands, she said, “Help me up.”

  “I want to watch you like this a little bit longer. In the moonlight your skin looks like cream, and your breasts are mouth-watering.”

  “Being an architect, I’d think you’d come up with some design-related similes. You know, like my backside looks like the broad side of a building or something.”

  “Fishing for compliments?” He didn’t wait for her answer. Which would have been yes. “Your backside looks and feels like the curve of a ripe melon.”

  “You’ve got a food fetish.”

  He grinned again. She loved that boyish, lighthearted grin.

  “I have been known to eat an entire can of whipped cream standing at the fridge,” he admitted.

  “You’re making me hungry,” she said, belatedly realizing the sexual context in the words. Her face heated, but she put her feet on his shoulders and pushed. The chair he sat in rolled back until it slid off the plastic office mat and hit the carpet.

  His eyes glittered, and his smile gleamed. “Is it my turn, Livie?”

  She shimmied off the desk, tugging at her dress to cover herself.

  He stilled her with a hand. “Leave it like that. I still want to touch you.”

  Her breasts swelled, and renewed moisture bathed her inner thighs. She pushed his legs apart and knelt between his knees. She’d exposed herself top and bottom, but Burn hadn’t undone his tie or his belt buckle. The front of his slacks stretched tight over his erection. She stroked lightly. “Does it hurt?”

  “It aches for you.” He put his hand on top of hers and pressed harder, caressing the full length. Then suddenly, he took her face in his hands, held her still. “We were made to do this together, Livie. I was made to fit in your mouth and your body, and you were made to take every inch of me.”

  It seemed such an odd way to put it.

  He shook her lightly when she didn’t answer. “Do you believe me, Livie?”

  There was something about him, about her reaction to him from the moment she’d seen him. Something she’d never felt before. “Yes, I believe you.”

  “Then take me.”

  He was asking for more than just her lips and mouth on him. He wanted a piece of her soul. Or he was offering her a piece of his. Somehow that seemed so much more frightening.

  All her life, she’d been the giver. She’d comforted her mother when her father acted like an ass, listening late into the night after one of their fights, until he finally pulled into the drive. After he became ill, she’d fed him mashed vegetables when he could no longer feed himself, stroked his brow as he slipped into that final coma. She’d watched his last breath sigh from his lips, then sat alone with him in the dark until the mortician came.

  And there was that horrible night five years ago when Toni tried to kill herself, when Livie had scoured the bloodstains out of the grout in the bathroom’s tile floor.

  Giving was easy. Taking meant a debt that had to be paid.

  “Take me, Livie. Please. Make me scream.” Burn’s whispered plea surrounded her, seeped into her pores, burrowed into her marrow. It grew inside her, became a part of her. She wanted this. It was as much for her as it was for him.

  Her fingers fumbled at his belt buckle. His zipper got stuck halfway down. In the end, Burn finished the task, and then he was in her hand. Hard, smooth flesh. Warm. Pulsing with life. And beautiful. So beautiful. She was tired of giving. Just this once, she wanted to take, everything, all that he offered and more, and she didn’t care if there’d be a price she’d have to pay for it later.

  She took him in her mouth, sliding her tongue along the slit, drinking in the tiny drop.

  “Ahh, Livie.” He scraped the hair back from her face, then fisted his hands in it, guiding her.

  She gently cupped him, squeezed his most sensitive parts. He groaned and his hips surged. He was right. He fit perfectly. She slid her tongue along the underside to his base, all the way up to the tip again, then used her teeth lightly as she drew him back in. He throbbed, spread his legs, pulled her closer, then ran his palms down her chest to caress her nipples.

  When he once again fisted his hands in her hair and showed her the rhythm he wanted, Livie stroked him with her lips. Faster, deeper, his taste filling her mouth. He was better than any delicacy she’d ever had. She let go completely, clenching her hands on his thighs, bracing herself as his body rose to meet her lips. His muscles bunched, tensed, and then he was holding her head still, simply giving her his length in powerful strokes, as if he were inside her body instead of her mouth.

  His gut clenched, he shouted incoherent words, then bent over her, cradling her head as she received him, swallowing his essence right down to the last few drops. Then she caressed his length with her tongue and lips, delicately, as his body jerked. When he finally settled, she let him fall from her mouth and buried her face against his crisp hair. He smelled good, clean, male. His hands slid down her back, smoothing along her sides as he draped his body over hers. He kissed the bare flesh just above the open zipper of her dress before sinuously sliding down into a seated position, and gathering her into his arms.

  “That was too damn good for words. I told you we’d fit.”

  “You didn’t exactly scream.”

  “Not quite. But anyone out by the elevators probably would have heard me.” One side of his mouth quirked in a sated, cocky smile. “Screaming is for girlie-men.”

  She laughed. “Well, you certainly aren’t a girlie-man. Definitely a manly-man.”

  “Thank God you think that.” He kissed her full on the lips, mingling his taste with hers, exchanging unique flavors.

  “Will you come home with me?” he whispered against her lips.

  She took a moment to answer. “I think it’s too early in our relationship for me to meet your family.”

  She’d meant it as a joke, but he combed his fingers through her hair and said, “We’re not done, Livie, not by a long shot.”

  No, they weren’t done. She needed to feel him inside her.

  He stroked her hair back from her face as he’d done when she held him in her mouth. “Livie.”

  She raised her head to meet his eyes and felt herself drowning in their depths.

  “This is right, Livie. What’s happening between us is right. Even if it’s moving fast.”

  Right or wrong didn’t matter. They’d gone far past the point of turning back.

  Chapter Seven

  The nerves had started the moment she’d climbed into her car to follow Burn to his home. The moment when he’d stopped touching her, when she could no longer meet his melting gaze. The moment she came back to reality. Livie couldn’t believe the intimate things she’d done with a man she barely knew. No, correct that, a man she didn’t know at all.

  Her feelings in the car versus the office were like night and day. This was crazy. What was she doing following his black Lexus to somewhere in the Belmont hills? Cars flashed by on the opposite side of the freeway, their headlights too bright. Burn was just a shape in the vehicle ahead of her. Anonymous. He drove sedately, probably more sedately than usual. Near the airport, a bright blue hybrid suddenly zipped between them, and she was almost glad. She could say she’d lost him. It was dark, his car was black, other vehicles got in the way... But the hybrid exited, and the Lexus was in front of her again.

  Livie’s heart was racing, her skin still flushed from the things he’d done to her.

  “This isn’t like me,” she whispered in the dark of the car.

  But she could still taste him, feel the imprint of his fingers on her. God, she was still wet for him. What they’d shared was more glorious than anything she’d fantasized. But with fantasy, there was no guilt or shame. She didn’t jump into bed with a man the moment she met him. She’d never had a one-night stand. Why did she react to him this way?

  The arguments went on endlessly in her mind until Burn
took the ramp for Highway 92. She didn’t live far from here, just a few exits up, her condo complex overlooking San Francisco Bay where it extended down the Peninsula.

  The cars were moving too fast, not speed so much as the feeling that they were getting closer and closer. She followed him off another exit ramp, her car coming to stop behind his at the light. He raised a hand, a signal that could have meant anything from Glad you’re still behind me to Christ, I can’t wait to get inside you.

  For once, she wanted to be like Toni. Her sister fell head over heels for a man in the first half hour. Livie had the same feelings, but they overwhelmed her. It was so much simpler when Burn was just her elevator man.

  He led her along a winding route that reminded her of a maze she’d be trapped in.

  The neighborhood was well tended, the lawns manicured, the yards pristine, the bushes trimmed. Landscaping included fountains, fish ponds, and even a man-made creek running beneath a small bridge flanked by miniature Japanese pagodas.

  Burn pulled into the driveway of a bungalow surrounded by huge rhododendrons and round, perfectly shaped tea trees. In the spring, it would be glorious. Though there was room on the drive, Livie pulled alongside the curb. She sat for a moment, watching as he climbed out of his car and headed toward her. Her palms were sweaty on the steering wheel.

  Hell, she couldn’t just sit there, so she shoved open the door. Burn held it for her as she stood, but she didn’t move from the vee.

  His body heat warmed her. The hard planes of his face stole her breath. For a man who couldn’t be called handsome, he was terribly compelling. If she let him, he’d have her inside his house and down on his bed before she could open her mouth to protest.

  She blurted out the words. “I changed my mind.”

  He smiled. God, it almost melted her. She had no clue why this man could affect her so.

  “I knew I should have made you drive with me,” he said, his tone deep with that sexy, distinctive rasp of his, and almost amused.

  The night air was cool, and here in the hills the wind had kicked up. She pulled her blazer tighter around her. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a tease.”