Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

Head high, she walked out of the room. It was a miracle she could see past all the red hazing her vision, but she noticed a darkened hallway extended on her right. Longer than she would have liked, but it featured a door at the end with an exit sign above. She headed toward it. Once outside, she’d call a cab. The exorbitant fare for a ride back to Bluelick would be a small price to pay to avoid a murder conviction, because if she saw Josh right now, she’d kill him.

“Bluelick, hold up.”

Dammit. She walked faster. The headache drummed behind her eyes.

A big hand curled around her arm and tugged. Momentum swung her around, making her stomach lurch. She didn’t fight physics, just tightened her hand into a fist and punched him in the stomach. In her mind, all the air exploded from his lungs right before he grabbed his middle and dropped to his knees. In reality, he gave her a pissed look and hauled her through the nearest doorway—into a darkened, deserted room reserved for private parties.

“What the hell is up your ass?”

Don’t look at him. Don’t talk to him. But she did look at him, and all her hurt and anger and other ugly emotions she didn’t want to name rose in her throat. “What’s up my ass?” She threw her clutch onto the nearest table and put her hands on her hips. “You did not just ask me what’s up my ass.”

His eyes narrowed. “You just punched me, so yeah, I did.”

“Gee, I don’t know…how about three slutty members of your Cincinnati harem and their great big mouths?”

“My harem?”

“Helene and team. I got quite an earful in the ladies’ room. You’ve been missed. The good news, for you, is that I’m out of here, so you’re free to go get reacquainted. Maybe you can all take a group trip down memory lane. They seem game.”

“You’re jealous.” His slow, cocky smile, as much as the accusation, sent her temper spiking.

“Why would I be? It’s not like you did anything special with them, huh? Or me? We all got the same Josh Bradley treatment…a ride in your truck, sexytimes in the kitchen. No-holds-barred action, and nothing off-limits. Comparing notes proved very eye-opening.”

His smile disappeared as she spoke. He closed the short distance between them until they stood toe-to-toe, and she had to tamp down an instinct to take a step back. He’d read it as a retreat, and she refused to back down. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely. You have nothing to be jealous about. Nothing. In case you were confused on this point, let me be clear. My sex life didn’t start the day I met you. And no, maybe I didn’t reinvent the wheel every single time, but contrary to popular opinion, I don’t have a premeditated routine, nor do I consider women interchangeable.”

“Sure you don’t. That’s why everything I heard in the ladies’ room sounded so fucking”—she paused a beat because she didn’t use the word much and wanted him to appreciate the harshness—“familiar.”

“You think what we have feels familiar to me? Are you insane?” His hands closed around her upper arms and he dragged her face close to his, so she had nowhere to look except his turbulent eyes. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you—constantly, relentlessly, until the ache is like a vital part of me, and I wonder how the hell I’m going to live without it.”

Live without it? “Wh-hat are you saying?”

Chapter Eighteen

Wary blue eyes stared up at him from a ghost-white face.

Whatever you’re saying, say it better. And faster, because actions spoke louder than words in his book, and she was literally backing away from him.

Rescue this. Now. Instinct told him to tow them back to their safe zone, the part of their relationship she couldn’t back away from—the physical part. Their chemistry was what had attracted her in the first place. That, and the chance to shed her good-girl image and explore a side of herself she’d left simmering on the back burner for too long. His hands were still on her. He slid them up her arms until he cupped her jaw, used his thumb to caress her lower lip.

“I’m saying I never heard a word of complaint out of you about how, when, or where I fucked you before tonight when you got a reminder I had a past. What’s the matter? You compared notes and now you’re afraid someone got better from me than you? Worried I’m withholding something?” He moved his hand to the back of her head and brought his mouth close to hers. “That must be it, because you can’t honestly believe I think of anyone else when I’m inside you. So name it, Bluelick. What should I be doing to you that I haven’t already done? Should I fuck you harder? More often? Does your greedy little clit need more attention from me?”

Twin slashes of red appeared across her porcelain cheeks. “Stop—”

“Something new, then. Something to convince you you’re getting my all.” He dragged his hand down her back, over her hips, and under the hem of her short, snug dress. “What would do the trick? Do you need me to put you over the end of my bed, lube up, and give it to you here?”

“Don’t,” she whispered. Her eyes glazed over, and her hand dropped to her abdomen.

“Would that make you feel special?”

Abruptly, she pulled away, stumbling as she turned. He grabbed a handful of her dress to keep her from falling, then caught her around the waist, and took her w

eight as she proceeded to be sick all over the fugly green carpet.

When she was done, he drew her limp body upright and pressed his palm to her warm, clammy forehead. The sound she made conveyed exhaustion and utter misery, and he felt like a dog-kicking bastard. She told you she didn’t feel well. She turned her head away from him, but rested it against his shoulder, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s my line.” He lowered her to a chair and knelt so they were eye level. Hers were closed, which matched the weariness in every line of her body. He took her wrist and shook it gently. “Look at me, baby.”

Eyelids lifted. Her pupils were dilated, her face pale and sheened with sweat. Her radial pulse raced. “Take some slow, deep breaths for me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”