by J. H. Croix
That was last October on Halloween. We were in the middle of January now. I hadn’t forgotten what he said when he walked away that night. The ball was in my court. Nate paid five thousand dollars for a date with me. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but I hadn’t been able to scramble up the nerve to approach him about it since then. I’d worked it up into a giant thing in my brain.
And now, here we were, trapped in an elevator. Alone.
Coward that I was, I asked, “Were you getting off at this floor?”
Nate’s dark eyes narrowed. I felt as if he could see straight through me, into all of my muddled insecurities. He shook his head. “No.”
Reaching past me with his good hand, he jabbed the button to close the doors and then promptly hit the button to pause the elevator. In a flash, he was beside me. I curled my hands around the narrow bar encircling the walls inside the elevator, hanging on as if it would save me.
I could feel the heat and strength of him. If I thought my heart was beating fast before, it took off at a full-on gallop now. My breath came in shallow pants and my belly spun, heat blooming through me from head to toe. I knew my cheeks were bright pink because my face was hot. My lower belly clenched, and I tried to catch my breath.
Nate moved with purpose and deliberation, placing one hand and then the other on either side of me. His braced hand rested lightly against the metal bar, while the other curled around it. I looked up and his eyes met mine, his rich brown gaze coasting over my face. He was close enough that when I tried to take a deep breath, my breasts pressed against his chest.
“So…” he drawled. “It looks to me like you’re chickening out.”
I wanted to protest, to argue the point that I didn’t know what he was talking about. But I knew perfectly well what he meant. I practically got skid marks on my tongue to keep from arguing. After a moment, I managed to gather my wits.
“No, I’m not. I’m just waiting for the right time,” I muttered with a lift of my chin.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Oh really? And just when do you think will be the right time?”
“Look, if you want a refund, I’ll call the fundraiser people and explain that I totally screwed up. Or better yet, I’ll just reimburse you myself.”
“That’s insane. You don’t have five grand lying around.”
He was quite right. My offer was nothing more than a sign of my desperation. I didn’t think I could do this. I might’ve had the hots for Nate for years now, but I couldn’t take the way it would go.
Nate was a player. Plain and simple. I’d known him forever. Seeing as he was my twin brother’s best friend, I was quite aware of his dating habits, or lack thereof. I wasn’t looking for casual. I also wasn’t looking to get my heart broken. I liked Nate way too much to think we could do some kind of ridiculous “friends with benefits” arrangement. It simply would not work.
“It’s not about the money, Holly,” Nate added, his tone low and sending a hot shiver through me.
I swallowed, trying to get a decent amount of air in my lungs. I only succeeded in having my breasts brush against his chest again, well aware he could likely feel the tight points of my nipples. They were practically waving, standing up and saying hello, entirely without my permission.
I meant to argue the point, to insist he let me reimburse him with money I didn’t even have. I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t as if I was all that capable of speech at the moment. Rather, my body was spinning wildly, hot all over, with my panties drenched. This was so embarrassing. Much to my chagrin, I knew Nate had a reputation for being quite skilled in bed. Willow Brook wasn’t that big, and he cut a wide swath through the single women in town, along with the tourists who flocked here in the summers.
As I struggled to formulate some sort of sense, he uncurled his good hand from the bar, lifting it and sifting his fingers through my hair. He brushed a few loose tendrils away from my forehead and down behind my ear, goose bumps chasing in the wake of his touch when his fingers brushed against my skin.
“You’re afraid,” he murmured.
I shook my head wildly, angry and more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
“Okay, then prove you’re not.”
“Fine,” I finally said, my anger driving me. It lashed at me like a whip, mingling with my inconvenient desire and making me simply wild inside, so hot and bothered I could barely think. “You’ll get your date. Dinner at Susitna Burgers & Brew in Anchorage. Valentine’s Day.”
Nate’s eyes widened slightly before darkening. “Okay, maybe you’re not a chicken after all,” he murmured, right before he leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine.
That subtle touch was a hot sizzle, my lips tingling as he drew back slightly, no more than an inch. On the heels of a muttered imprecation, he fit his mouth over mine again.
Oh. My. God.
There was kissing, and then there was this. The moment Nate angled his head and swept his tongue in my mouth, I was lost. His tongue slid against mine, every stroke sending me spiraling tighter and tighter inside. His hand slid through the ends of my hair, down my shoulder, lightly teasing over my breasts and cupping one through the thin fabric of my scrubs.
When his thumb brushed across the aching peak of a nipple, I moaned into his mouth, gasping when he stepped closer and I could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against my lower belly. Our kiss went wild. With a low growl, he tore his lips free of mine, dusting kisses along my jawline, nipping my earlobe and sending a shudder through me. I couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know Nate was all muscle, all man, but to have his body against mine, his hard, muscled chest, the feel of his back flexing as he shifted against me—sweet hell, I was done for.
He made me crazy. I was panting and gasping, my hips rocking into him as his knee slipped between my thighs.
“Fuck, Holly,” he muttered, the motion of his lips a tease against the sensitive skin along my neck as he kissed his way down into the valley between my breasts.
I lost sight of everything, awash in sensation as he slid a hand up under my shirt. Somewhere along the way, he shoved my shirt up, bending low to swirl his tongue around one nipple and then the other, right through the silk of my bra. Slick moisture built at my core, a sweet ache growing.
I distantly heard my voice gasping his name, pleading for more.
“I need to touch you,” he growled with a nip of his teeth over a nipple.
His hand coasted over the curve of my belly. While I’d never argue that scrubs were sexy, they sure made access easy. With a tug on the messy tie at my waist, he slipped his hand down between my thighs. I didn’t even hesitate, my legs parting wider when he nudged a knee out to the side. He trailed his fingers over the wet silk there, and I bit back a moan.
I wasn’t thinking. At all. All I knew was I needed this not to stop. Blessedly, Nate appeared to be on the same page. Another tease over the silk and then he pushed it aside, sinking one and then two fingers in my drenched channel. I was dripping wet—for him. I felt him lift his head where he’d been teasing his lips along my collarbone.
“Holly,” he murmured, his voice alone throwing another hot spark into the fire raging inside of me.
Dragging my eyes open, I found his dark gaze waiting. He proceeded to drive me straight to the edge with his fingers. I forgot everything—where we were, all the rational reasons why I shouldn’t let this happen, how I hated feeling this vulnerable with anyone, much less with him. I chased after that sweet release, crying out when he swirled his thumb over my swollen clit as he drove his fingers deep inside me.
If it was actually possible for someone to fuck you with a look, somehow Nate had pulled that off. The searing heat of his gaze fed right into my climax as it rippled through me, pleasure scattering in scorching sparks. My head fell against the wall of the elevator as I struggled to catch my breath.
Nate slowly withdrew his hand, his eyes o
n me the entire time. I was fairly certain I’d have melted to the floor if he hadn’t been holding me up. He even tied the waistband of my not-so-sexy scrub pants and straightened my shirt. Just as my brain was flickering back to sanity, there was a loud crackle, and then a voice came over the speaker in the elevator. “Testing, testing. Is everything okay, or is the elevator stuck?” a male voice asked.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
Nate found it funny, his gaze catching mine as his lips curled in a grin that only sent another hot jolt of need through me, making me acutely aware of what had just happened.
I pushed at his chest. A lost cause because he didn’t move.
Lifting his head, he replied to whoever was on the other end of the speaker. “Everything’s fine.” He reached over to tap the button for the elevator to move, finally stepping away from me.
The reality of what had just transpired slammed into me. Thank God there were no cameras in this elevator. Not that I knew of.
Oh great, something else you can obsess about.
The ride to the ground floor was silent. When we stepped out, Nate’s hand rested at the base of my spine. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, much less swat his hand away. That was the problem with me when it came to him. Every time we touched, all I wanted was more.
My jacket was looped over my arm, and I gripped it tightly. I paused by the doors, finally stepping away from him and shrugging into it, zipping it up quickly. My nipples were still tight, so tight they ached.
With my cheeks still flaming hot, I met his gaze. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around,” I finally said.
“Of course. I’ll call you the day before Valentine’s Day.”
Four long weeks stretched before me.
I hoped you enjoyed meeting Holly & Nate. These two friends, or perhaps better described as frenemies, have a reckoning coming. Trust me, it’s hot, it’s emotional & it’s oh-so-fun!
Burn For You, Holly & Nate’s complete story, will be available on January 22, 2019.
Available on pre-order now: Burn For You
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Play With Fire
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author J. H. Croix lives in a small town in the historical farmlands of Maine with her husband and two spoiled dogs. Croix writes steamy contemporary romance with sassy women and alpha men who aren't afraid to show some emotion. Her love for quirky small-towns and the characters that inhabit them shines through in her writing. Take a walk on the wild side of romance with her bestselling novels!
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