Burn (L.A. Untamed #2)

by Ruth Clampett

  “No,” I whisper, feeling unhinged at just the idea of it. “So what are you saying? You don’t want to have sex with me anymore?”

  He gives me a quizzical look. “That’s not what I said.”

  The wine must be getting to me because suddenly I’m on a slippery slope in emo-land where logic is nothing but a five-letter word.

  I swallow hard. What have I ever done that’s so horrible that this is my karma? The sexiest man I’ve ever known, the man who says I make him wild, may avoid sleeping with me. This means that soon I could be sexless again, I’m on emotional overload.

  The tears start streaming down my face as I surrender to the feeling of hopelessness and despair. Welcome to my pity party and it’s a doozy. It’s my birthday and there’s no actual party . . . just the bleak stretch of an empty landscape . . . my forever emotional wasteland. I let out a quiet sob.

  “It’s my birthday,” I whisper, when he reaches over to brush my tears away.

  “Shhh,” he says.

  “But the idea of not being with you makes me feel so alone and I just want . . . I need to be loved.”

  “Oh baby,” he whispers as he pulls me in his arms. Next thing I know I’m being lifted out of my chair and cradled against his chest. I love how this man holds me so completely. Sighing, I settle against him.

  “It’s my birthday,” I whisper. I’m pretty sure the wine has set off my emotional babble.

  “I know,” he whispers back and kisses me on the top of my head. “I think I’m finally seeing the soft side of you, sweetheart.”

  My eyes grow wide. I guess he’s right. I shiver at the idea of it and then reach up and kiss the patch of skin where his T-shirt ends and his neck begins. This man makes me feel so much, which only makes me want to kiss him more.

  He looks down at me but instead of concern in his eyes I see something else. “Let’s get out of the cold. I’m going to warm you up.”

  I nod, happy that I’m still tight in his arms.

  The way he carries me across the yard makes me feel protected. He pushes my back door open with his foot.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask.

  “To bed.”

  “To sleep?”

  He shakes his head. “No, birthday girl. I’m going to wake you up. Sleep is the last thing on my mind.”

  I groan and press my thighs together.

  When we get to the bedroom he gently lays me down on the bed, then pulls his T-shirt over his head.

  “Is this going to be a pity fuck?” I ask.

  His eyes narrow. “Now, Trisha . . . do I look like the kind of man who would do that?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “This is me taking care of you.”

  “But–”

  “Shhh. This is also me wanting you.” From the intense look in his eyes I’m inclined to believe him.

  He reaches over and undoes my jeans, and I lift my hips so he can pull them, along with my panties, off with ease.

  He unzips his fly, but right before he pushes his jeans down he pauses. “What are you doing?”

  I blink at him as I continue to pull the sheet over my legs. “Covering up.”

  “Why?”

  I feel my cheeks heat up. “I guess I’m feeling especially vulnerable tonight and I’m embarrassed about my thighs.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re thick.”

  He smiles. “All the better to be wrapped around me. Besides, they’re not thick, they’re shapely and strong.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “Do you really think a man is going to prefer skinny thighs? I want something good to grab onto.”

  My fingers loosen on the sheet as I take in how he’s looking at me. It’s like he’s got ideas for all the sexy things he’d like to do to me, and the fun is about to begin.

  “For the record, your strong thighs are sexy.”

  “Oh really?”

  “I’ve been admiring them for a while.”

  “When?”

  “When I’ve spied on you at the gym working out.”

  He takes the edge of the sheet in his grasp and slowly pulls it away from my body. “Oh yeah,” he whispers as he trails his fingertips over the curve just above my knee and then slides them between my legs.

  “These are exactly my kind of thighs. As a matter of fact, I’m in love with your thighs. Why don’t you spread them for me and I’ll show you how much?”

  I reach a new level of hotness. For a man who’s typically pretty reserved with his words, this man is the Shakespeare of dirty talk. With a few choice phrases he can transform me into a burning fireball of need.

  I spread my legs slowly as he pushes off his jeans and joins me on the bed. He starts with my lips, kissing me senseless. His intensity, and the way he grabs my thighs with his strong hands, makes me feel wild. I moan and kiss him back, as my legs ease open wider. I’m pretty sure I won’t feel complete again until he’s inside of me.

  “That’s right, baby,” he says in a low voice while he works his way back down my body until his lips skim my inner thighs.

  “Oh God,” I moan as he explores and teases with his mouth and fingertips. I arch into his touch, hungry for more.

  “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Maybe,” he teases, his tongue circling my clit. “You know, you need to be more patient.”

  “It’s my birthday,” I whisper.

  “You were very bad not to warn me about that.” He shakes his head in reproach as he lifts up on his knees.

  My gaze roams over the ridges and plains of his body, each muscle defined. He’s hard everywhere Mikey was soft. I’m feeling primal urges, raw lust that I could smother myself in, just to take in every inch of this magnificent man.

  “So sexy,” he whispers as he runs his hands up and down my inner thighs. I’m panting by the time he rubs his cock against me in a slow tease. Seconds later he fills me and in that moment nothing–not Mikey showing up, not the rules at work, not his wife’s betrayal that haunts him—matters. This time when my tears fall it’s because sex has never felt even close to this, like the best gift in the world.

  He builds slowly, then sensing my need, he begins to thrust hard, pressing me down into the mattress. He touches me all the places that make me crazy, kissing and embracing me like I’m everything.

  I groan and I grind against him and hold on tight. “Don’t ever stop doing this with me.”

  “I can’t stop,” he says with a groan, his gaze fixed on me because he knows I’m about to come and this man is all about following through and getting the job done. He knows how to really take care of his woman.

  Oh good God. My head falls back as my body tenses, and then my climax roars through me.

  Oh yeah, oh yeah . . . Happy Birthday to me.

  Chapter 14: A Badass Queen

  A queen will always turn pain into power. ~ R.H. Sin

  A few days later, Jeanine is on her way over so we can finally celebrate my birthday. Every year she insists on me dressing up and then she takes me out somewhere fancy for dinner. But the annoying thing is she always insists I not just dress up, but wear a dress. I think it’s a control thing with her, and she knows I don’t like to be controlled and I feel ridiculous in a dress. It used to really piss me off but she wasn’t backing off, so I finally decided to treat it like I was going to a costume party dressed like a girl that actually likes to dress-up, and it became fun.

  The dress I’m wearing tonight Elle helped me find at one of those girly boutiques and she paired it with black heels from Nordstroms at the Grove. I zip up my new frock and turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror. I’ve got to say, this dress looks pretty damn good on me. It accentuates my curves while showing off my strong back and it even makes the few inches of my thighs that show look good.

  I smooth my hair out and put on colored lipgloss before stepping out on the front porch to wait for Jeanine. When I turn around from lockin
g the door I see Joe in the driveway with wide eyes and his mouth slack.

  “Hey!” I call out with a wave.

  He doesn’t respond, just takes several steps closer with a dark look in his eyes.

  “I bet you barely recognized me,” I say before turning around carefully so I don’t face-plant in the heels.

  He swallows, and shakes his head. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m being taken out for my birthday to Mozzo. Have you ever been there?”

  He shakes his head. For some reason he’s starting to look a little pissed.

  “It’s on Melrose and Highland. I thought you might know it since it’s owned by those famous chefs, Mario Batali and Nancy Silverton.”

  “Is it?” he says with raised brows before he scowls.

  Okay, I’m pretty sure he’s pissed.

  “Do you want me to see if you can come too? I’m not sure since you know how uptight those fancy pants places are, but I could ask.”

  Narrowing his eyes at me, he purses his lips. Geez, I’m trying extra hard to be nice and frankly he’s being a moody ass.

  I wave my hand at him over his T-shirt and jeans. “You may need to grab a jacket. I’m not sure if there’s a dress code.”

  “I don’t want to go with you on your date, Trisha.”

  “Ha!” I laugh right as Jeanine pulls up in her Jaguar. “You thought I was going on a date?”

  “Well, look at you.”

  Descending the stairs, I grab his shirtsleeve and pull. “Come-on, I want you to meet my bestie, Jeanine.”

  A look of relief settles over his features. “Jeanine? You wore a dress for your bestie?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “You haven’t worn a dress for me.”

  “You haven’t taken me out on a date.”

  “Well, maybe we need to rectify that,” he says.

  I grin. “Well she makes me wear a dress, but I’ll gladly wear one for you if it means that much to you.”

  He leans closer. “I’d like that. You look good.”

  “Good?”

  “Really good.” His gaze trails across me with a slow simmer. “Gorgeous,” he whispers.

  I blink several times and press my thighs together. This man can look at me sideways and get me worked up. For a brief moment I wonder how pissed off Jeanine would be if I canceled. I can just imagine Joe’s long fingers unzipping my dress slowly before pushing the fabric away from my shoulders so my dress falls to the floor. Hot damn.

  Just then Jeanine blasts the horn of her car as she rolls down the passenger window. “Trisha, get your ass in the car!”

  I look over at Joe and wink. “She’s a charmer.”

  “I can see that.”

  I drag him toward her car. “You’ve got to meet her. She’s so fierce; she makes me look like a wimp.”

  She narrows her eyes at Joe as he approaches. “Is this the man you were telling me about, Trisha?”

  I nod. “Yes, this is Joe. Joe, meet my best friend Jeanine.”

  Joe approaches the car and reaches in through the window to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jeanine.”

  She gives him a knowing smile. “Likewise.”

  Joe opens the passenger door and holds his arm out to guide me inside.

  I slide in and pull down my seatbelt.

  “Have a great time, ladies, and keep the men away from her, Jeanine. And by the way, thanks for getting Trisha in a dress.”

  “She’s hot, right?” Jeanine says with a grin.

  “Yes, she is. I’m looking forward to her dressing up like this for me. You promised, right, Trisha?”

  I feel my cheeks color. “Yes.”

  “Excellent,” Jeanine says. “And sometime soon let’s all get together.”

  “Sounds good,” Joe replies as he closes my door and steps back. He waves as Jeanine pulls away from the curb.

  When she stops at the light at Laurel Canyon she turns toward me. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?” I ask, as I raise my hands in surrender. There’s no point taking on Jeanine because she’ll always win.

  “That’s the tiny house guy?”

  “Yup.”

  “Holy hell! He. Is. A. Man. A big, healthy, real man, with a visible dose of testosterone, accented by looks and manners. Do you understand what a rare breed he is in this god-forsaken city? He’s like an endangered animal and he must be treated like the treasure he is.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. Jeanine has never been this impressed with anyone. “You are treating him right, aren’t you?”

  My eyebrows knit together. “Can you explain how that works?”

  She sighs with exasperation. “You’re treating him right . . . keeping him happy.”

  “What about me? Shouldn’t you be focused on making sure he’s treating me right, and making me happy?”

  “Well, judging from the way you were looking at him and the way he doted on you, it seemed obvious.”

  I smile widely and she glances over at me.

  “It’s a jungle out there in L.A., the dating pool is overrun with savages, and Joe could be your king. Treat him like one and I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

  I roll my eyes. “My king? So much for the advancement of women as equal partners.”

  “Just giving you a reality check, woman. The rest is up to you.”

  Leaning back into her Jaguar’s lush leather upholstery, I gaze out the window with a smile on my face despite her crazy ramblings. Jeanine enthusiastically approves of Joe. Hot damn.

  According to her I’ve got myself a king, and it makes me wonder while in the fantasyland of happy-ever-afters, if I could be his badass queen.

  Joe is waiting for me when I get home later that night. I know because he’s left a scrawled note taped to my front door.

  Get you and that sexy dress you’re wearing over to my place. I’ll be on the roof waiting. I’ve got a bottle of wine and all the stars lit up just for you.

  With my heart pounding, I unlock my front door and kick off my heels. One shoe lands on the coffee table and the other on the couch as I rush to the bedroom for my Keds and a sweater.

  Less than a minute later I’m scaling the ladder along the side of Betty. I pause when I’m near the top. I’m excited—I’ve never wanted to see him more.

  “Hey,” I say as I finally step up onto the roof.

  I know it’s night, but his dark eyes are bright as his shimmering gaze moves from my face, slowly down my body. The corners of his mouth turn up when he sees the Keds. “Where are your heels?”

  “I changed shoes since they aren’t exactly ladder crawling friendly. Why?”

  “I want the heels.”

  “Well, too bad. At least I kept the dress on.”

  “Hmmm,” he says as he surveys me. “You have to know . . . you make me crazy, woman.”

  My breath hitches. “I do?”

  “Hell yes. I’ve been up here imagining taking this dress off of you.” His fingers tug on the bottom of the dress’ hem.

  “Are you going to take it off me up here?” I ask as I bite my lip.

  “Perhaps.”

  He’s such a tease.

  I sink down into my lawn chair and watch him pour me a glass of wine. It’s a warm night and moonless, the inky black sky dusted with stars. He hands me my plastic cup and I take a long sip.

  “So did Jeanine keep the men away from you like I asked her to?”

  “Well, Malcolm the waiter was a little overly attentive, but other than that, yes, we were in the clear.”

  “Good,” he says quietly as he takes a drink of his wine.

  I sit with my head tipped back to watch the sky. I love the quiet beauty of a night sky—some may find the darkness foreboding, but I find it hopeful. Sometimes your heart can feel things more clearly in the dark, when not muddled by the light.

  “Can I confess something?” I ask after finishing off my cup of cabernet. My dress has inched up high on my thighs and his gaze continues
to linger there.

  He nods, his expression suddenly wary like he’s gearing up for another one of my frank revelations. “Sure. What?”

  “I’ve never felt like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’d do anything to please you.”

  “Really?”

  I notice his hands tighten over the armrests on his lawn chair.

  “Yes, really. I’m starting to worry that I’m obsessed with you. Jeanine was impressed with you and warned me that I should do whatever I can to make you happy. And what’s weird is that despite my self-protective nature, I want to do that for you.”

  “Trisha,” he whispers.

  I hold out my hand. “Let me finish. The thing is I have all these feelings for you and they’re big and complicated. Remember a few weeks ago, when we went out on the child drowning call? After we arrived, I was side-by-side with you trying to save that little girl. I remember my overwhelming fear that we were too late, and our sheer determination to save her. I looked over as you did the compressions and I thought if this little girl has any chance at life, it’s because of Joe.”

  He shakes his head but remains silent because he seems to sense that I’m not done.

  I clear my throat. “And a moment later it hit me, that if I have any chance of finding love again, it’s with Joe.”

  “Stop,” he whispers.

  I shake my head. “I know. You don’t want me to fall in love with you. But sorry, it’s already happened. And I know It’s crazy and fast and illogical, and my divorce hasn’t even started to hit its stride. But I can’t help it. I love you. I do. I think about you every messed-up minute we’re apart. I think of the way you held my hand under the table at my parents, I fantasize only of you naked across my bed, and I panic thinking of you riding a rig to the fire that could be the one to take you from me. It kills me . . . the idea of losing you. My head is spinning from all my feelings for you so you don’t have to say a thing, just know that it’s all very real.”

  He appears positively stunned, his eyes wide and fingers pressed against his thighs.

  I look him straight in the eyes. “I’m a woman in love with you, and you need to know that I’m one hundred percent honest, real and honorable, and most of all . . . despite my longing, I’m willing to wait as long as it takes, for you to love me back.”