Slow Burn (Into The Fire Book 2)

by J. H. Croix

  “Maisie,” I choked out.

  She hummed whatever she meant to say around my cock, the subtle vibration sending a hot jolt of pleasure through me. I groaned, tangling a hand in her hair and surrendering myself to her ministrations. Two weeks without her had me burning up with need. I was at the edge before I knew it. I meant to say something, but I couldn't seem to speak. I gave her hair a little tug. She drew back to glance up. The brief pause helped me latch onto a thread of control. I tugged her up and out of the shower with me, turning it off with one hand. We were dripping wet.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with a little laugh.

  “I'm too tired to do this standing, but I need to be inside of you,” I said, my voice rough with need.

  We tumbled onto the bed. She rolled atop me, wet all over, her knees falling to either side of my hips. I ran my hands over her roughly, cupping her breasts, groaning when her nipples pebbled under my touch. I could feel her slick folds against my cock where she settled over me. She rose up, positioning my cock at her entrance and sank down swiftly. I'd meant to drag this out, to tease her, to make it one she'd remember. Not that I could ever forget any single moment when we were together like this. She didn't let me though.

  The moment I was inside of her, I let go. When I was with her like this, I knew I was home, precisely where I needed to be. I surrendered to her, to this magic between us. She set a rhythm, rolling her hips slow and steady, rocking against me. I held onto her, gripping her tight at the hips, feeling her skin give under my fingers. Her hair was a wild wet tangle, her eyes dark with need. Her channel clenched and throbbed around me. Too soon, I was at the edge, not ready to let go yet because I didn’t want this moment to end. She leaned forward, dropping kisses along my neck and then making her way to my mouth as her breasts brushed against my chest, the feel of her nipples taut and damp from our shower sliding against me. I reached between us, pressing my thumb against her clit. I felt her tighten and let go, shudders wracking her. She cried out into my mouth, her channel squeezing my cock.

  Heat twisted at the base of my spine, and my release roared through me. She drew back slowly, nipping my bottom lip before she straightened. I looked up at her as she sat astride me. I was as close as I could physically be to her. Every so often, I wondered if that would be enough.

  “I missed you,” she said, her voice husky.

  “I missed you too.”

  My heart pounded strong and steady. I reached up, trailing my fingers along her jawline, tracing her lips and taking a deep breath. My heart felt so full I thought it might explode. Then, my stomach growled. Her eyes crinkled at the corners with her smile.

  She giggled. “Should we shower again before I make dinner?”

  At my nod, she eased away. I let her take me to the shower and soap me all over again. Later that night, we lay in bed. It was late summer with the stars winking in the sky through the skylight. She rolled on her side, resting her hand over my heart.

  “I have some news,” she said softly.

  I idly sifted my fingers through her curls.

  “What's that?”

  “I'm pregnant.”

  A wave of emotion rocked me. We hadn't talked about it much, but a few months ago we decided to ditch the birth control to see what happened. I tried not to think about it much, not wanting to put too much pressure on our hopes and dreams.

  “Really?” I asked, angling to look at her.

  The moonlight falling through the skylight cast a silvery glow across her face. I could see the tears glistening in her eyes. I pulled her tight against me, breathing in her scent. I felt her shuddering breath as she nodded against me, her chin bumping my shoulder.

  “Uh huh. I took like five pregnancy tests and then I went to see the doctor who thought it was pretty funny that I went there for another test.”

  I chuckled when she laughed softly. She took another shuddering breath. I slid my palm in a slow pass down her back. I knew this was big for her. She’d worried she wouldn’t know how to be a good mother because she had no memories of her mom. Just vague feelings of someone being there. She lifted her head, her eyes catching mine, and reached up to trace my brows.

  “Well this is it. You’d better say so now if this is too much,” she said softly.

  I knew what she was asking even though she didn’t voice it specifically.

  “I told you. I'm here for the long haul. That means forever.”

  She dipped her head and dropped a soft kiss on my lips before resting her head against my shoulder. I was still awake when I felt her slip into sleep, her breathing going soft and easy.

  ***

  Thank you for reading Slow Burn! I hope you enjoyed Beck & Maisie’s story. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter at http://jhcroixauthor.com/subscribe/ to get a free copy of another one of my books!

  For a limited time, I’m including two first in series books with this title. Burn For Me kicks off my Into The Fire Series and The Play kicks off my Brit Boys Sports Romance Series. Both full-length novels are here for you to enjoy for a limited time!

  xoxo

  JH Croix

  More from J.H. Croix

  Burn For Me

  Into the Fire Series

  By J.H. Croix

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 J.H. Croix

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1546562656

  ISBN-13: 978-1546562658

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Burn For Me

  One alpha man.

  One bossy woman.

  A fire that won’t die.

  I messed up.

  Once upon a time, Amelia was my everything.

  Until she wasn’t.

  I’m home now, and I want her back.

  She’s never forgiven me for something I didn’t even do.

  I’ve never forgiven her for believing the worst.

  One look and the years apart go up in smoke.

  The minute I lay eyes on Amelia, I’m hard for her.

  Again.

  That smart mouth and curvy body is all I ever wanted.

  This time, I’ll have her and she’ll have me.

  Every inch of me.

  This is my second chance. I won’t back down.

  She’ll be mine. For good this time.

  *This is a steamy, full-length standalone romance with a guaranteed happily-ever-after. No cliffhangers. Nothing but steamy romance & HEA!

  Chapter 1

  Amelia

  I shoved through the door into the bar, coming to a quick stop as my eyes adjusted to the light. I brushed a wet lock of hair off of my cheek and threaded through the tables to the bar at the back. Once I slipped onto a stool, the bartender spun to face me. He was a jolly looking man with round blue eyes.

  “I’m Tank. You look like you could use a drink,” he announced, his wide smile softening his observation.

  “A beer will do,” I replied.

  “House draft okay?” he asked.

  At my nod, he spun around. Within seconds, he’d handed me my beer and silently offered a clean towel. Though it was tiny, seeing as it was a bar towel, I quickly scrubbed it over my dripping wet hair and face before handing it back to him. I settled in to try to forget my shitty day.

  A bit later, I drained my beer and glanced around the bar, savoring the anonymity of being in a crowded bar in Anchorage, Alaska where no one knew me. I was tucked in the corner by the wall, pleased to have a nice view of the crowd and yet go unnoticed by just a
bout everyone there. Tank caught my eyes again, a question held in them. I nodded and held my empty pint glass aloft. He nodded in return while he mixed a drink for someone and pulled another pint for me with his free hand. The extent of my conversation with anyone this evening had been limited to Tank’s earlier introduction.

  If he thought anything awry with the fact I was wearing a wedding dress splashed with mud, he didn’t show it. Neither did anyone around me. Anchorage was just large enough of a city people left you alone if you appeared to want to be left as such. That said, people were friendly too. Alaska, despite its sprawling geography, kept its residents close, all bound by the knowledge they lived on the edge of the wild and had the strength and guts for such a life.

  I took a drag on what was my third beer and wondered if perhaps I should slow down. I was definitely tipsy and on my way to drunk. I fingered the cream silk of my wedding dress. Or maybe I needed to consider it my not-wedding dress. I’d been all dressed and ready to go when I’d failed in my battle against the knot of tension balled like a vise around my heart. I swallowed against the rush of emotion that rose inside as my eyes traveled down the fitted bodice of my dress and bounced to the muddy splotches all over its swirling skirt. Oh yeah. I hadn’t simply ditched my groom-to-be just before we got to the altar, I’d bolted in the rain. Another swallow of beer, followed with a slow sigh. What stung the most—all I felt was relief. Not regret, not second thoughts. Just pure relief.

  I’d walked across the hallway at the back of the church and barged into Earl’s dressing room. There he’d stood, tall and handsome with his dark blonde hair and brown eyes. It was what I never saw in his eyes when he looked at me that pushed me to tell him I couldn’t marry him. When Earl looked at me, I saw a kind regard, a humored attempt to appreciate me for who I was. Yet, there was never anything close to the hot fire I’d known once upon a time with someone else. I’d apologized, but I’d also been flat pissed with him for trying to trick himself and me into thinking he really loved me.

  A dash into the late afternoon rain on a cool summer day in Alaska had felt cleansing. Until I got chilled and finally ducked into this bar. I didn’t even know what it was called. I suddenly recalled I didn’t have a penny on me. It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a purse for my aborted walk up the aisle. Oh well, oh hell. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror behind the bar and bit back a sigh. My amber hair was a damp, tangled mess.

  I didn’t think much about how I looked. To be honest, it was more that I tried not to. I was as tall as most men. I ran my own construction business to boot. I tried to never let it show, but when it came to my femininity, seeds of doubt were planted firmly inside. It didn’t help that all but one man treated me pretty much like a man, Earl included.

  I gave my head a hard shake and glanced around the bar again, scanning the collection of people. Businessmen rubbed elbows with fishermen here. Sports reigned supreme on the televisions screens mounted at various points in the bar, and a few pool tables were clustered in the corner. That’s what I’d do. I loved pool and was pretty damn good at it.

  A few minutes later, I was paired up in a game with three other guys. They’d thrown a few looks askance at my wedding dress and seemed amused at playing with me. Tipsy and deep into my don’t give a damn mode, I set out to beat them.

  Roughly an hour later, I grinned as my last ball rolled neatly into a pocket corner. “Well, boys,” I said, glancing among them.

  The boys in question had been drinking and gotten steadily more sullen as we played. One of them, a hulking sort with dark eyes and hair, glared at me. They’d bet on this game after the first two, and I was due five dollars each from them.

  Mr. Hulk, as I’d come to call him in my head, stepped close to me, too close for comfort. “No fiver from any of us. You got that?”

  I was just drunk enough not to care. I stretched up to my full five foot eleven inches. He might have more bulk than me, but I was a hair taller. “Ah, I see. You only like to bet if you’re gonna win? What an ass,” I said, my lips curling in a sneer.

  I was stretched too thin emotionally with white hot anger, a simmering anger I’d kept buried for the entirety of the two years I’d wasted on Earl, and a tad too drunk to be reasonable right now. When the jerk stepped closer and put his finger on my chest, I didn’t even think. I punched him, right in the nose.

  “You fuckin’ bitch!” he shouted as he swiped his sleeve across his face, smearing the blood from his nose on his cheek.

  He hauled off and punched me back, his fist bouncing under my eye. He had enough heft to send me tumbling to the floor, an inglorious heap of muddied silk spilling around me. I was just tipsy enough not to care that my face was throbbing. Without the mud, minus the dingy hardwood floor under me and definitely minus the crowd now gathered around, I considered the way the silk of my dress spilled in a near perfect circle would have made a great wedding photo—one of those candid shots people would love.

  In a flash, Tank was there, shoving the guy who’d punched me away. Voices above me collided with each other.

  “Dude, she hit me first!”

  “Self defense…”

  “Yeah, but she’s a girl…”

  “She’s a fuckin’ giant, and she can hit. She’s no girl!”

  I closed my eyes and wished I could crawl into a hole. The buzz that had kept me afloat this afternoon and evening dissolved into mortification. The jerk was right. I was a giant and no one would ever look at me and think girly thoughts.

  “Amelia?”

  My heartbeat came to a screeching stop and then jumpstarted with a hard kick. I’d know that voice anywhere. Through the jumble around me with Tank leaning over to ask if I was okay, that voice rang like a loud bell inside. One man. Only one man had ever looked at me with heat in his eyes, heat so hot it singed me. That man spoke my name now. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know. I did anyway. Because I couldn’t bear not to see him.

  Cade Masters stood at the edge of the circle gathered around me, another man in a bar crowded with men. Shaggy dark brown hair, green eyes, and a body of raw muscle stood before me. My heart felt as if it had been split open. I’d loved Cade in that wild headlong way that only youth allowed. No more than seven years had passed since I’d seen him, but it felt like forever. Cade had broken my heart and walked out of my life when I was twenty-two. He hadn’t just broken my heart, he’d betrayed me.

  Anger flashed hot and high inside, yet I couldn’t look away. My eyes ate Cade up. He wore faded jeans, the fabric so worn it hugged his muscled legs like a caress, and a denim jacket over a black t-shirt. He had something of an outdoorsy, biker vibe. Once upon a time, he’d taken me on long rides on his motorcycle through the nearly empty highways in Alaska surrounding our hometown. He stepped through the crowd and knelt at my side, his green gaze coasting over me. “You okay?” he asked.

  I nodded without really thinking about it. He lifted a hand and ran the backs of his fingers along my cheekbone. Oh right, some guy had just punched me in the face. Cade’s presence had wiped my mind clean of everything else. With barely a brush of his touch, my heart fluttered and heat tightened inside.

  “You sure?”

  I swallowed, suddenly aware of my throbbing cheek. My entire day flashed through my mind. A gloriously shitty day. I fought against the tears, but they welled up, unbidden and beyond my control. One tear rolled down my cheek and then another and another. Of all the times and places to encounter the one and only man who still held a piece of my heart, this had to be the absolute worst.

  Cade’s eyes never left mine. Something flickered deep in the depths of them, but I didn’t know how to interpret it. Without a word, he slipped his arm around my waist and lifted me up, bundling me into his arms as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said and started to stride away.

  Tank caught him by the arm, and Cade glanced to him. “Yeah?”

  “Just making sure she’s oka
y,” Tank replied.

  All I could do was nod. I was so totally not okay, but I was okay in the sense Tank was asking.

  Tank’s warm gaze held mine, this bartender who barely knew me, but had somehow known I’d had a bad day and just needed to be left in peace while I had a few beers. I should’ve stayed put in my seat at the bar. My raw emotions and crazy day, all of my own making if I was being honest with myself, had gotten me into this mess.

  “You want the police involved?” Tank asked.

  I shook my head and finally found my voice. “No. Let’s call it even. I punched him, he punched me.”

  “You know this guy?” Tank asked next, nodding to Cade.

  “Uh huh. It’s okay. He’s an old friend of my family’s. No need to worry,” I managed. On its face, my explanation was true. Cade and I had grown up together in Willow Brook, Alaska. Our families had known each other for years. Yet, my explanation left out so much of what Cade meant to me, it was almost laughable.

  Tank released his grip on Cade’s arm and let us be. Cade was quiet as he strode through the bar, the crowd parting around him. I could only imagine how we looked—me in my dirty not-wedding dress and him giving off his usual back the hell off vibes. It was a shock to see him for the first time in years and even more of a shock to be held in his arms. I felt at home in his strong embrace. He held me easily. He always had. I loved that about him. Cade was a good four inches taller than me at six foot three inches and had never cared about how tall I was. He pushed through the door of the bar, stepping out into the late evening. The rain had stopped at some point during the long hours I’d been hiding in the bar.

  He paused once we were outside on the sidewalk and glanced down, his gaze catching mine. “Why are you wearing a wedding dress?”

  That was Cade, never one to waste time on preliminaries. I’d loved that about him. Oh how I’d loved so many things about Cade, back before he’d left my heart bruised and battered. Right now, I couldn’t seem to recall the pain. All I knew was it felt so good—so, so, so good to be with him.