Burned Deep (Burned 1)

His strokes quickened along that spot inside that set me ablaze and made me ridiculously aroused. Seconds later, all the intensely erotic sensations he evoked burst wide open and I came again, calling his name.

“God, Ari,” he said against my temple as I rode the waves of ecstasy. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Can’t be more than I want you,” I insisted as my body continued to tremble.

He held me awhile longer, until the shaking was a little more under control. Then he released me and shut off the water. He stepped out of the tub for towels and wrapped one around me before securing the other at his waist. He helped me out of the shower and I used the hair dryer while he disappeared into my room. Moments later, he strutted back into the bathroom, vibrator in hand. He dumped it in the trash.

“You won’t be needing that again,” he said simply, smugly.

I watched him strut out. A tickle of delight ran along my skin.

When I lost sight of him, I spared a glance toward the wicker garbage bin. To the budget-minded, that was thirty bucks wasted. I didn’t care. It’d never provide the same purpose following this evening.

I stripped off the towel, turned off the light, and went into the bedroom, pulling my Gretzky tee and panties on. I settled on the mattress next to Dane, who was propped against a pile of pillows. The rumpled covers were strewn haphazardly across his hips, just barely concealing what was an impressive bulge.

“So…,” I ventured as my fingers skimmed over his abs, which bunched beneath my touch. “This has been an interesting evening.”

He grinned. So lazy, cocky, sexy. “How many times did you come?”

“I lost count.”

“I didn’t.”

Tiny microbursts exploded between my legs. Amazing.

“I think you’ve finally exhausted me,” I confessed.

“Then curl up with me and sleep.”

I did as told. “You’ll still be here in the morning when I wake up?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t doubt it for a second.”

* * *

There was definitely something to be said for the adage be careful what you wish for.

In the morning, while we were still snuggled under the covers and his hands were roaming my body, Dane coyly suggested we have lunch together.

As in … a date. A real one. Not an interview that felt like a date. Not a meet-up at a party. An actual, honest-to-God date.

Panic slithered through me. But I had a legitimate excuse to evade him.

“That’d be great,” I said, “except that I’ll be in Phoenix. Peoria, more specifically. My dad and I have a ten o’clock tee time at Trilogy at Vistancia while there’s a break in the weather.”

“Excellent course.” He palmed my breast and lazily swept his thumb over my hard nipple, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. I barely heard him ask, “Have you played Blackstone?”

I all but purred under his touch but managed to say, “The private country club in Vistancia? No. My dad hasn’t, either.”

“Would you like to?”

My stomach fluttered—not just from Dane’s light teasing of my nipple. The devil knew all the right buttons to push.

“It’d be a highlight,” I dared to admit.

“Then cancel Trilogy and go to Blackstone instead. I’m a member. I’ll leave your name with the guard at the gate.”

“You can’t seriously get a tee time there at the last minute.”