The Hotter You Burn (The Original Heartbreakers 2)

“What details?” she insisted.

“And your clothes,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Take them off.”

“Beck. I’m begging you.”

He stood, looking like a warrior of old, ready to claim the spoils of battle.

Claim me.

“I’m going to chalk this up to your inexperience,” he said, gripping the base of his erection, “but men like sex first thing in the morning, and I’m going to prove it.”

She almost went to him. It would have been easier and far more pleasurable. “Do you feel trapped?” she asked point-blank.

A muscle jumped beneath eyes gone wild. He closed the distance, framed her face with his big hands. “Why are you doing this?”

Not an answer. “I have a right to know.”

“I committed myself to you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but only because it was the sole way you could sleep with me.”

The muscle beneath his eye jumped even faster. “And you can’t be happy with what I’m offering?”

“What are you offering, Beck? You’ve never said. Marriage sometime in the future?”

His lips pursed, and his hands fell away from her. “I’m offering here, now. And tomorrow. Which, by the way, is more than I’ve ever offered anyone.”

“But what about the day after tomorrow?”

He rubbed at his chest. “I don’t know.”

The flames of hope were dying, one after the other. “You’re telling me we’re doing this on a trial basis? That’s the detail you wanted me to know, isn’t it?”

Almost defiantly he snapped, “Every relationship operates on a trial basis, Harlow. No one ever knows if theirs will be forever, especially in the beginning.”

“But they know what they’re willing to give and what they’ll continue to withhold.” She drew in a breath. “Does it make you happy to think about a future with me?” she asked again.

“Enough. Let’s—”

“Does it?”

“You don’t want me to answer that, baby.”

“I do. I really, really do.”

“Very well.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “When I envision the future, I see doom and gloom. That’s it. That’s all I’ve ever seen.”

Confirmation of her worst fear—it was worse than taking a bullet to the heart.

Her choice was simple: lose him now or lose him later. Rip the bandage off or let the wound underneath fester.

Can’t break down. Not here, not now. “I want you with every fiber of my being, but I won’t stay with a man who feels like I’ve trapped him, who sees only doom and gloom with me. You’ll come to resent me.”

“Don’t do this,” he said, and in that moment, there was something scary about him. As if the shutters were coming down, blocking her out. “You know what?” He laughed with bitterness rather than humor. “Part of me expected this. You had me, and now you don’t want me anymore.”

“Part of you expected this? Is that why you felt comfortable enough to ‘commit’ to me?” she sneered, using air quotes. Her own fears and pain were making her ugly right now, but she didn’t care. “Because you were so sure I’d leave you and you wouldn’t have to be with me for long?”

“Stop. Just stop.” His tone was dark, dangerous. “Let’s close our mouths before one of us says something we’ll never be able to take back. We’ll go to work and cool off.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere until you answer my other question. Do. You. Feel. Trapped?”

“Harlow.”

“Do you?” she screeched.

“Yes,” he snarled, glaring at her. “Are you happy now? I’m in a cage, and you put me there. But I don’t want you with another man, and I will do anything to ensure you’re mine. Even this.”

Even this. He’s destroying me, piece by piece. “Well.” Head up, blink back tears. “I wish that were enough for me, but it’s not.”

He flinched as if she’d hit him. “You mean I’m not enough for you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

He stormed over, latched on to her upper arms and shook her. “You aren’t leaving me, Harlow. I won’t let you.”

“I...am,” she said, fighting sobs. They brewed in her chest, frantic to escape. Have to get out of here. Now. She lurched from his grip.

Glaring at her, he swiped up her dress, her shoes and held on to them, as if they were the only reasons she hadn’t run yet. “Don’t you dare do this.”

“I have to. Don’t you see? I’m not going to trap you. I’m not going to doom you. I’d rather you hate me while free than resent me while caged.”

He took a step toward her, his nostrils flaring as he breathed, his chest heaving. “If you walk out that door, we’re done. You can pack your things and get the hell out of the RV, off my land.”

A stream of tears burned her cheeks. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t. Stay here.”

“But I have to,” she finished, and walked out of the room.

* * *

HARLOW HOPED BECK would realize she was worth any risk, that she offered happiness rather than gloom, but he was a man, and that particular species could be as dumb as a box of rocks. So, of course he never came came to the RV, and by the evening, she was forced to pack her meager belongings.