The Hotter You Burn (The Original Heartbreakers 2)

Her mouth went dry. Always they circled back to this. “Forget I agreed to be your friend. We’re enemies.”

“You’ll tell me what’s easy, but nothing that’s hard.”

“I don’t like to think about what changed me. It hurts.”

“Pain fades. Rip off the bandage and give the wound a chance to heal.”

“No.” If she told him, she’d have to show him. If she showed him, he’d never want her again. And right now he wanted her. He had to. The way he was looking at her...

He leaned down until his nose almost brushed against hers. “One day, Harlow, you’ll open up to me.”

“One day,” she whispered. “Maybe. But probably not.”

He cupped her nape, the heat of him making her gasp. “Definitely. And in more ways than one. I’ll make sure of it.”

CHAPTER TEN

BECK KNOCKED ON Harlow’s door. This might be the biggest mistake of his life, but he suspected it would also be his favorite.

He’d kept his hands to himself for nearly a month, even as the hot little piece paraded around the office in the sexy summer dresses he’d bought for her, the material clinging to her perfect body in a way that should be illegal. He’d done his rock-solid best to ignore her. She desired West. Or at least she thought she desired West. Beck had watched her more and more closely with every day that passed, seeing nothing romantic in her dealings with the guy and everything awkward.

Then, of course, there was her undeniable attraction to Beck. As many lovers as he’d had, as much experience as he’d garnered throughout the years, he could detect a woman’s desire for him even if he were blindfolded. Every time Harlow looked his way, her electric blues projected longing hot enough to make him think total-body third-degree wounds would be fun. And when he neared her, her breathing altered. When he touched her, goose bumps broke out over her skin. When he’d talked about posing nude for her, her expression had gone slumberous, as if they were already in bed together.

She wanted him the way he wanted her. And despite all her talk of relationships, she would settle for what he could give her—a night of passion so hot they’d forget their own names. Temptation demanded its due.

She opened the door, wearing a tank and a pair of shorts, and smiled nervously in welcome. “Right on time.”

His skin burned for contact, but he kept his arms at his sides. “Always.”

“Except for the times you’re late, right?” As she stepped back, he prowled inside and handed her the dish of food he’d brought.

Her eyes widened with delight. “I smell bacon.”

“I had Brook Lynn make you some kind of stuffed peppers with your drug of choice.”

“Seriously?”

At his nod, she ripped the foil off the dish and squealed with delight.

“It’s not bacon and marshmallow, I know, but she ran out of marsh—”

“It’s perfect!” She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you, Beck. Thank you so much.”

The softness of her body conformed to the hard, masculine planes of his. She was curvier now that she’d been eating properly, and he liked it. A lot. Her strawberry scent overshadowed the smell of the peppers and bacon, fogging his brain, and her warmth stroked over him, heating him, reminding him of the first rays of sunlight after a long, harsh winter. He held her tighter than he’d intended, anticipation building inside him, the burning only growing worse—and better.

The urge to pick her up and set her on the kitchen counter nearly overwhelmed him. One button on those shorts. Probably one hundred and fifteen teeth in that zipper. A tug of his wrist would leave her in a pair of panties. One strip of cloth separating his fingers...his mouth...from her sweet spot.

Not yet. He forced himself to release her. He’d thought about this, about her reclusiveness and the hatred of the townsfolk, and he doubted she’d been on a date since high school. He wasn’t sure how far she had gone back then, only knew boys her age wouldn’t have known their way around an orgasm with a map and a flashlight. He had to take this one step at a time.

Still smiling, glowing so brightly she made his chest ache, she skipped to the kitchen table. Did she have any idea how much he wanted her?

Earlier, the perpetually sweet Kimberly had finally revealed a pair of claws—for a bacon sandwich. Harlow, who had seemed to covet the item more than lottery winnings, had graciously relinquished her claim. The girl who had spent the past however many months starving had willingly given food to the one who had never known lack. It was that second, that moment, that slice of life, that Beck’s icy facade had melted.

After that, there’d been no denying the truth. No holding back, his reserve nothing but a crumbled heap. He wanted Harlow, and so he would have her. No matter the consequences.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Harlow asked, offering one of the peppers.

“Starving,” he said, his voice low, nothing but gravel. At the table, he claimed the seat next to hers, making sure their shoulders and thighs brushed together.

He heard a hitch in her breath, saw a scatter of goose bumps on her arms—felt yet another fire ignite in his veins. In unison, they turned their attention to the food. Probably for different reasons. They ate in silence, the air between them still crackling with ever-sharpening tension. She’d missed so many of his cues today, but this closeness...this she couldn’t deny.

Her hand trembled as she took a drink of water. She licked a drop from her bottom lip, and he hardened painfully, imagining the other things she could lick up with that little pink tongue.