The Hotter You Burn (The Original Heartbreakers 2)

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“What should have happened weeks ago.” He kicked his bedroom door closed and swung her around, crowding her against it. The dark tension he’d suffered with all these many weeks finally abandoned him, replaced by a tension of another sort.

“Beck.” Her lips parted on a gasp, one he caught with his mouth, desperate to taste her. But she didn’t kiss him back; she shoved him away. Or tried to. He wouldn’t budge. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not letting you do this to me. You kiss me when the mood strikes, then tell me to be with someone else when fear hits. Well, I refuse to be treated that way. I’m leaving.” She spun, placing her back against his chest as she tugged at the knob.

“Scared now that you’re getting what you asked for? Well, that’s just too damn bad, baby.” He kept his hand flat on the wood, ensuring it never opened.

“Getting what I asked for?” She glared at him over her shoulder. “You came on to me, then told me to find someone else. Now you’re coming on to me again. What will happen tomorrow?”

“I won’t be pushing you at anyone else. Not again.” Not ever again.

A tremble started in her chin, then spread to the rest of her.

“Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.”

Defeated, she pressed her forehead against the door. “You’ve always been good at saying the right things, but not so good at doing them.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to see you with other men. I was seething inside and wanted to commit cold-blooded murder. You’re mine, and no one else is ever allowed to have you. Tonight I’ll prove it. You asked for a relationship, a commitment,” he said. “You insisted on both, in fact, and if that’s the only way I can have you, that’s the way it’ll be. We’re together. I won’t ever lie to you, and I expect the same from you. Is that acceptable to you?”

Slowly she turned. Shock, wonder and hope stared up at him, razing wounds deep in his chest. “Beck...”

“Say yes. Nothing else matters right now.”

“I— Yes,” she whispered.

Good. “Now take off your clothes.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SOMETHING ABOUT BECK’S words bothered Harlow. If that’s the only way I can have you, that’s the way it’ll be. But at the moment, she reeled too wildly to care. She and Beck were an actual couple. He was in this, with her all the way.

“I know you’re inexperienced in these matters.” The hot intensity of his gaze belied the low gentleness of his tone. “But I’m on the verge of a meltdown. I need you naked as soon as possible. Take off your clothes, baby.”

With trembling hands, she reached for the top of her dress. All she had to do was slide the material down, but she hesitated. As vulnerable as she was feeling, she didn’t want to do this alone.

She dropped her arms to her sides, whispering, “You take them off me.”

An expert, he hooked his fingers inside the bustline and, with a single tug, had the material pooling at her feet, leaving her in undergarments and hooker heels. “Step out of the dress.”

The moment she obeyed, he had her bra unhooked. The garment fell away, his fiery gaze locked on her breasts as her nipples puckered with painful precision.

“These sweet little jewels were made for me alone.” He cupped her, tracing his thumbs over the distended peaks. He’d always been a seductive force, but today, this moment, he was raw carnality made flesh—and utterly irresistible.

“They’re small,” she said, knowing he’d been with big-chested beauties like Tawny.

“They’re perfect. They’re all I’ve wanted since I met you. You’re all I’ve wanted.”

He dropped to his knees, reverently removed her shoes one at a time then tongued the waist of her panties until he had the material firmly between his teeth. He dragged the tiny scrap of fabric down, down, finally reaching the floor.

Skin heated. Goose bumps broke out. A quiver teased her deep, deep inside as languorous pleasure flooded her limbs. All she wanted to do was melt into him, meld onto him.

“I want to see you, too,” she said.

“You will. Trust me.” He stood, his hands sliding around her, one at her nape, the other at her lower back. He dragged her flush against him, lowering his head, claiming her mouth in a single swoop. His tongue thrust against hers, taking, demanding, and when she met him with a thrust of her own, he went wild, feeding her the most rapturous passion. The kiss should have sated her in some way, but it only stoked her appetite higher.

Beck backed her toward the bed, and when her knees hit the side of the mattress, she went down. He didn’t follow her right away but stood between her spread legs, his breaths coming shallowly, hollowly, tension tightening his features. His pupils were so large his eyes appeared black—twin stormy nights.

He gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked the material over his head, baring his gorgeous chest. His pecs were muscular, decorated with sinew, his nipples small and brown, his stomach roped with strength. She wanted to follow his golden-tipped goodie trail with her tongue.

“Let me.” She sat up and, with her gaze locked on his face, unfastened his pants. He wore boxer briefs, his erection straining past the top. She thought about the time he’d gone to his knees before her—thought about the things she could do to him—and moistened her lips.