Flame

by Erin Noelle

  “Why haven’t I seen this bathing suit before? You look fuckin’ smokin’, Sunshine.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively while he brushes the back of his hand over one of the coral-colored triangles. My nipples harden immediately under his touch.

  “Because we’ve never been swimming together?”

  Pinching his eyebrows together, he frowns and makes some grunting sound. “You’re right. We haven’t. I’ve been so busy training and working out, trying to get ready for the Games and the world championships, I’ve been neglecting you.” He leans over and kisses me softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to say sorry, dude.” I wave his apology off with my hand in the air. “I know you’re daily regimen is brutal, and even though I’m still a newbie to the sport, I realize you’re a big fuckin’ deal. Emilia warned me what it’d be like, so before we left, I stocked up on magazines and music, and I work on my tan while she does whatever it is she does on her computer. I’m enjoying the trip, visiting places I’ve never been with good friends, lots of laughs, and great sex.”

  “Just great sex?” he teases.

  I shove him a tad, rolling my eyes when he pretends I hurt his arm. “Oh please, Hulk, I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to.” Bending my neck down, I kiss the spot anyway before adding, “And the sex is much better than great.”

  Levi repositions himself lengthwise with the bus, legs opening in a V, then pats the spot between his thighs. “Come here, Sunshine. Let me give you a massage. I think I owe you a dozen or so.”

  Scrunching my nose up, I shake my head back and forth. “Can I take a rain check? It feels like the surface of the sun up here, and we’re both really gross and sweaty. We need a shower.”

  “Get your ass over here,” he insists, laughing lightheartedly. “I won’t rub your sweat, but I like talking to you up here. It’s feels like we’re in our own little world. Higher than everyone else.”

  “That’s ‘cause we are,” I mumble, purposely loud enough for him to hear as I scoot over to be closer.

  As soon as I’m in arm’s reach, he grasps me and hauls me onto his lap, slapping my butt twice on the way down. “God, you’re so sassy sometimes. Are all of your sisters like this?”

  “No, you just lucked out,” I retort with a smirk.

  Lowering his mouth to mine, his breath caresses my lips as he mumbles, “That I fucking did, Sunshine.”

  After a few teasing kisses, he pulls back and smiles contently. His blue eyes are a calm sea on a bright, summer day. It might be the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him outside of bed. “Tell me about Dakota,” he rasps.

  “Wh-what do you mean?” I stammer.

  “Who are you? Where are you from? What do you want to do with your life?” He traces abstract designs on my forearm with his finger while he talks, an action I never knew could cause tingles in every part of my body. “Most girls I meet are dying to tell me their life story. They don’t shut the fuck up. But not you. I know very little. Why is that?”

  I shrug, not having a good answer. “The same reason I don’t know much about you, I guess.”

  “What do you want to know? Ask me anything and I’ll answer it,” he challenges.

  Wow. I wasn’t expecting this. “Do I only get one question?”

  Smiling like he knew I was going to ask that, he shakes his head. “Nope, but for every question you ask, I get one too. Like our own version of Twenty Questions.”

  “Okay, let me think.” I pause while deciding if I should get straight to the juicy stuff or ask some basics first. I choose basics. “What was your childhood like?”

  The movement of his hand hitches for a split-second, but recovers quickly. “I was born and raised in SoCal. My dad, Darren Levi, is one of the best plastic surgeons in the country, and most of Hollywood has him on speed-dial. He was always working so much when I was a kid it was like he didn’t really live with us. I don’t know much about him as a person. My mom, on the other hand, I know more about than I care to.” He makes no attempt to hide the disgust in his voice when he talks about her, which kills me a little bit inside.

  “She was with my dad for the money and the social status,” he continues. “They met when she was getting some work done as an aspiring actress, and somehow she managed to trap him in a marriage and then got knocked up with a kid, tying herself to him for at least eighteen years. Once I was born, she really didn’t have time to take care of a baby; it interfered with her social calendar and fucking the pool boy. So she hired a nanny until I was old enough to ship off to boarding school.”

  “When did you start riding dirt bikes then?” I interject.

  He lightly slaps my arm. “Uh-uh. My turn for a question.”

  Grinning, I nod to give him the go ahead, fully expecting a similar question about my family or upbringing.

  “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” he asks, switching his ministrations to my other arm.

  Say what? Ten years?

  “Dude, that’s a hard one!” I exclaim. “I barely know where I’ll be next month, much less a decade from now.”

  “Come on,” he urges. “Just try to answer it the best you can. Career? Married? Kids? Still in Colorado?”

  I give it a quick thought then blurt out the first thing I think of. “Running my own spa somewhere in Colorado. Possibly married. Doubtful on kids, but if I ever have any, I just want one.”

  He kisses the tip of my nose. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now it’s your turn. Do you still want me to answer how I got into riding?”

  “Yeah, I’m curious how a prep-school rich kid ended up playing in the dirt.”

  “The summer before my freshman year, Mommy Dearest shipped me off to stay with Gunner and his parents, which was only about two hours away. One of Gunner’s friends had a couple of bikes and a four-wheeler, and we spent two straight months riding at the cliffs each day, from sun up to sun down. We were addicted from the very beginning.” Excitement and love for his craft shines through every time he talks about riding. “I begged and pleaded to move in with him instead of going back to St. Regis Academy, so I could keep riding, and eventually our parents gave in.”

  Nodding my understanding, this time it’s me who rocks forward to press my lips to his. “Your turn to ask.”

  I prepare myself for another thought-provoking question or for him to inquire about some deep dark secret, even though I don’t really have any, when he asks, “What kind of music do you listen to?”

  Relieved, I grab the headphones still in my hand and hold one up to his ear so he can hear Bob Marley firsthand. His eyes light up when he recognizes the song, and I jest, “What can I say? My parents are hippies.”

  “Good song, but I think Three Little Birds is my favorite,” he replies as I drop the earbud back into my lap. “All right. You’re up. We may have to go down and get ready for dinner soon, so make it a good one.”

  I guess it’s now or never. He told me to make it good, after all.

  “How many times have you had a threesome with Gunner and Emilia?” I blurt out the question, praying it doesn’t blow up in my face.

  This time his hand doesn’t just hitch; it stops rubbing my arm completely as he goes silent. As nervous as I am to look him dead in the eye, I do it anyway. I want to see the emotion on his face when he answers me.

  “Once.” The word escapes with a jagged breath. “Only once.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I push the issue. “Was it planned, or just something that happened one drunken night? Come on. You’ve gotta give me something else.”

  He scrubs his hands over his face before dropping them down to mine, interlacing our fingers in his lap. “Emmy Sue knew Gunner and I had shared girls before. It wasn’t something we did a lot, but growing up together, it happened a couple of times, here and there. She’d never done it before and wanted to know what it was like, so Gunner approached me and told me the only way he could give her this was if I was the other guy. He said he only trusted me, an
d it had to be before they were married.”

  “So it was planned?” I confirm.

  Bobbing his head, he stares at me anxiously, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll think he’s a bad person for doing this. “Yeah, it was planned, but there was also quite a bit of booze involved too, so we’d all be relaxed enough to go through with it.”

  “And? Was it worth it? Did it change things between y’all after?”

  “Of course it changed things between us after,” he admits, “but probably not like you’d expect. No matter what anyone says, once you have sex with someone, things are different from that point forward. Even if it is a casual hookup. But luckily for the three of us, it made our bond stronger. I love the two of them like nobody’s business; they are my family. It’s just different than the way they love each other.”

  I squeeze his hands supportively. “Have you ever loved anyone like they love each other?”

  “No. I’m not sure I’m wired that way. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but never anything serious. I always end up getting tired of them after a while.” It’s his turn to shrug and try to dismiss his lack of answers with a joke. “It’s like I have dating ADHD.”

  “Dating ADHD! Oh, my God, I love it!” I spout. “I’m totally using that the next time someone asks me about my relationship status.”

  Laughing heartily, he leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. I pretend to not be grossed out as our perspiration mixes, and instead, I focus on how sweet he’s being to open up to me.

  “Any more questions before we go inside? Even though you’ve asked like the last ten?” He tickles my ribcage.

  “Hmmm.” I think for a minute. “Will you have a threesome with me before I go home?”

  Without even considering it, he growls, “Absolutely not.”

  Caught a little off guard by his response, I pull back to lock my gaze on his. “Why not?” I demand.

  “Already told you, Sunshine.” He crushes his lips to mine, his tongue urgently pushing into my mouth as he devours and consumes me. A few seconds later, when we come up for air, he mumbles, “Mine.”

  WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27

  SWIPING THE HOTEL KEY CARD across the magnetic reader, the green dot on the lock lights up, and I swing open the door to get my first look at home for the next five days. The suite at the trendy W Hotel in the French Quarter appears to be pretty fucking nice . . . that is, what I can see of it.

  The couch in the corner is covered in a shitload of shopping bags, assorted colors and sizes, from what looks like every store in a fifty-mile radius. The small dining table is hidden by a leftover room service tray and an empty bottle of wine; the unused glasses were apparently not necessary. And strewn across the rumpled bed covers are Dakota’s purse, duffel bag, and phone, as well as several magazines. It appears that my little Sunshine has made herself quite comfortable while I was out at the track, which makes me unexpectedly happy. I like seeing all her shit everywhere. I like that she is who she is with me. Unapologetically.

  I continue to move forward into the suite before I let that thought scare the shit out of me.

  As I enter the bedroom portion of the suite, the first thing I hear is the hum of running water in the bathroom, and my first thought is, Hell yeah, let’s conserve water! But before I can barrel in there and rip my clothes off, Dakota begins the worst rendition of Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” I’ve ever heard in my life.

  Choking back my laughter, I stand outside the door for several minutes and listen to her butcher one of the best driving songs ever. It’s bad. So terribly bad. Part of me is tempted to record it. You never know when good material like that can be handy, but I can’t pull myself away.

  With tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks, I hold my gut and lean on the doorframe for balance, eavesdropping for the entire performance, beginning to end. Finally, after she belts out the final terribly-off-key lyric, I’m able to calm down a little. Though, I’m now well aware she’ll be the first thing I think of anytime I hear that song.

  The list is growing. The color yellow. Anything Incredible Hulk. Massages. Body shots. Nipple rings. Ghost-hunting. Hot air balloons. Dragons. The roofs of buses. And now “Free Fallin’”. She’s ruining me a little more each day.

  Fucking hell. I’m starting to sound like Gunner’s pussy-whipped ass.

  The water abruptly turns off and I jump backward at least a foot, thankful she didn’t see my guilty-as-fuck reaction. Quickly scooting away from the door, I fling open my suitcase and pretend to be unpacking my stuff as she emerges from the steamy bathroom.

  “Oh hey, Hulk. I didn’t hear you come in.” Her mouth curls up in an impish grin when she sees me, probably assuming I’ve been out here thinking about her naked in the shower. “Why didn’t you come in and join me?”

  I give her my best innocent boy look, deciding to wait a while before I burst her bubble about what I heard. “I just assumed it was locked. Sorry. So used to being on the bus.”

  “And since when have you cared about locks on the bus?” she quips. “You usually take what you want, when you want it. Isn’t that what you told me once?”

  Standing next to the king-size bed, she loosens her grip on the white towel draped around her sexy-as-sin body, and as the terrycloth falls to the floor, it whooshes away any thoughts with it that don’t involve me buried to the hilt inside her. Maybe I’ll add white towels to the list too.

  My brazen gaze roams the length of her body, absorbing every delicious fucking inch of what she’s offering. She is fucking exquisite. Water droplets glisten on her smooth, freshly washed skin, begging me to lick them off, calling out to me like I’m a man dying from dehydration. God, I’m fucked.

  Using every last ounce of self-control I have, I stalk toward her slowly as I run through the gamut of things I want to do to her right now. There are so fucking many. Her eyes burn as bright as the blue tip of a flame when I approach. Always ready to play.

  “Do you know what happens to pretty little girls who can’t control their smart mouths?” I ask, edging as close to her as I can without actually making contact. My voice is low and thick, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.

  “No.” Her gaze drifts down to where my boner is tenting the mesh athletic shorts, and she licks her lips. “But I hope it has something to do with Thor down there teaching me a lesson.”

  “Thor?” I grumble, unsure where she’s going with this.

  Lifting her chin, her fiery eyes return to mine as she reaches out to palm my erection. “Yeah, you’re Hulk, and this,” her fingers circle around my shaft and she squeezes lightly, “is Thor.”

  I suck in a deep breath when she grabs ahold of me, my dick pulsating to the beat of a bad techno song. “Why not Iron Man or Captain America?” I manage to croak out.

  With a soft laugh, Dakota drops to her knees in front of me, making quick work of my shorts and boxers. My cock springs free from its confines with one destination in mind—her hot, wet mouth. Wrapping her fingers around the base, she peers up at me and smirks. “Because I’d rather fuck and suck Chris Hemsworth than those other two guys any day of the week.”

  At the mere mention of her being with another guy, famous or not, I see red. Pure, unadulterated, jealous anger flashes through me. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Complete caveman overload.

  Before I can protest or ask anymore questions, she swipes her velvety tongue across the purple head. Once. Then a second time. “Calm down, James,” she murmurs. “I was just teasing. We can name your cock later. Right now, I want you to try to fuck the sass out of my mouth.”

  “Sunshine, how much longer? It’s a party, not prom, woman!” I call out from the couch, where I’m half-watching the NBA finals while I wait for Dakota to get ready.

  She’s been in the bathroom for at least a half-hour, doing God knows what. I can tell she’s nervous about tonight for some reason, even though she won’t admit it. I bet Emmy Sue told her about some of the people who’ll be there, but sh
e has no reason to worry. She’s beautiful all the time.

  “One more minute! I need to grab my shoes and I’m ready,” she yells back a few seconds before appearing in the doorway.

  My mind goes blank when I see her, the breath stolen from my lungs. She’s beyond perfect; no words can measure up. In seconds, I’m beyond hard again at the mere sight of her standing before me. Motherfuckin’ mine.

  There’s no way she’s got panties on with that black skirt that hugs her curves seamlessly. It’s not indecently short, but I’ll be making sure she doesn’t bend over at any point unless I’m directly behind her. And I’ve never seen her hair curly like that. I want to tangle my fingers in it. Pull it . . . hard. I love her bare shoulders. My mouth waters just thinking about sinking my teeth into that delicate skin. Oh, if I look close enough, I can see the faint outline of her piercings under that yellow top. Did I mention how goddamn turned on I am?

  “Well? How do I look?” She spins around slowly to give me a view from the backside, which is just as fucking phenomenal. I can’t wait to push that skirt up around her waist and show her how Thor likes to use his hammer. “Good enough to be your girl for the night?”

  Pushing up to my feet, I cross the room in two long strides, cupping her face in both hands when I reach her. The base of her throat bobs as she swallows hard, flecks of silver shimmering in her crystal-blue eyes.

  “You’re too good to be my girl any night, Sunshine,” I rasp.

  Her lips part slightly as her breath catches at my words. Whether she believes them or not, it’s the goddamn truth. The warmth of her exhale against my mouth spurs me forward, and as I firmly press my lips to hers, sliding my tongue into her welcoming mouth, gently stroking her tongue, something happens inside me. Something so powerful I can feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Something so intense, I’m forced to break free from her before I teeter over the edge into some place completely unknown to me.

  A place I’m not sure I’m ready to go.

  “Now that was a kiss, Hulk,” she purrs, lifting up on her tiptoes to press her lips to my cheek. Then, spinning around, she pads over to the closet and chooses some tall sandal-looking things, quickly slipping her feet inside them. “Let’s do this.”