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Authors: Anne Marsh

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BOOK: Burning Up
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“Even though the problem began in San Francisco, I'm almost sure your stalker has known you for some time,” he explained, then went on before she could react. “You said there was more than one fire while you were living in San Francisco. Give me a window—a week? Two months? How long did this go on?”
She looked up. “Six, seven months. It's all in the police reports, Jack.”
“Humor me,” he growled. “Six months, maybe seven. Then you came here, bought the farm—and the fires started again.”
“Not right away.”
“What if he knew where to find you? What if he's from Strong—just like you?”
“And like you. So if I know him, you know him,” she mused aloud. “Everyone knows everyone here. That's the joy of small-town living for you.”
“Lots of things to enjoy in a small town,” he drawled. Kissing her simply seemed like the right thing to do. He was desperate to make her feel better, and the dampness of her tears in his T-shirt reminded him he hadn't found a way yet.
“Hell, baby, don't cry anymore,” he ordered gruffly, nudging her chin up with his fingers. Another day, when she had her strength back and she wasn't confronting the evidence of a very nasty, very personal arson, she'd knock his hand into the middle of next week. Right now, though, she was letting him take care of her. Like he needed to do. The surge of fierce protectiveness was unfamiliar—but it felt right.
Damned right.
He looked down at her familiar face, those too-wide eyes of hers, and knew this was right.
They
were right. He wasn't ever walking away from her again. Somehow he was going to convince her of that truth. He didn't know what was going to happen when summer was over. He'd never stuck around to see summer wind down, never been around to see what could happen next.
“I'm here,” he promised. Later, he'd explain that promise to her. Right now, though, he had his arms full of Lily Cortez.
“Kiss me, Jack,” she ordered as if it had been her idea.
And maybe it had been. She twisted him into knots, so that he didn't know if he was coming or going. All he knew was that the woman he held in his arms was special, and she was hurting.
That, he knew, wasn't okay.
So he'd make it better.
Kiss her better.
He had her pressed up against him already. All he'd have to do was pick her up, so that her legs—those long, lovely, too bare legs of hers—were wrapped around his waist as if they were already in her bed and he inside of her. His erection jerked, loving the fantasy. God. He'd thought she was trouble.
He'd had no idea.
Sliding his hands into her hair, he held her still, lowering his head to hers.
No time for subtle, not now. Just the raw, hard kiss he'd been saving for her all these years. Marking her. Branding her as his.
His lips tasted hers, ate the sweet, hot taste of her as his tongue stroked over her closed lips and pressed on inside. Drinking in her sweet whimper like a cool drink on a summer afternoon. She pressed closer, her softness cradling his hard heat. Urging him in. Warning him not to pull away. His Lily had her mind made up, and that was the sexiest thing a man could ever want.
So he kissed his way across her lips, nipping the soft curves. Opening her wide so he could taste her all the way. Every hidden place. Like he'd do with the rest of her just as soon as he had her back in the house. He could feel how hot she was where those wicked little denim shorts of hers rubbed against him. Rocking slowly against him in silent demand.
She was killing him.
Chapter Twelve
J
ack took the stairs two a time, Lily cradled in his arms. When he hit the top, he hesitated but only for a moment. Her room. Not the guest room. He wanted everything she had to offer, and he wasn't going to let her push him into a convenient little box. He wasn't a guest. Damned if he knew what he
was,
but this feeling he had for Lily wasn't a temporary thing.
He'd dreamed of this night forever, wondering what he'd missed all those years ago. If he was lucky, he'd find out tonight. He'd been rootless, always roaming, since he'd left Strong. He'd gone from one summer to the next, never settling. So he wasn't going to hesitate now, when she was lying sweet and relaxed in his arms. Her eyes were watching again, but this time those baby browns were as hungry as his were.
Lily Cortez wanted him.
Damned if that didn't twist up his insides even as it sent the blood shooting to his erection. He wouldn't last long at the rate he was going, and that wasn't the way he wanted this evening to end. Tonight was for Lily. Sweeping aside the patchwork quilt with one hand, he laid her on the lace-trimmed sheets and followed her down. The hunger hit as soon as he touched the mattress, sinking into its yielding softness.
He finally had Lily Cortez in his arms, in a bed. And it was one hell of a bed, too. Despite the too-feminine sheets, the headboard was all iron curlicues. He could play out a dozen dark fantasies in this bed. Another night, perhaps he'd tie her to the bed, playing a delicious little game with the woman he held. He could take her a dozen different ways, show her the path to pleasure over and over. Tonight, though, deserved something special, a slow, sweet loving.
“You going to look all night?” Her voice was pure, husky invitation. “Or do you want to do something else, Jack?”
Lily
. An old-fashioned name for an old-fashioned kind of a girl. She was classy. He'd recognized that truth back when they'd still been in high school and he'd been flirting with the impossible idea of making her his sweetheart. Good girls like her didn't fall for bad boys like him. Not for forever.
But maybe that was just one more rule he could break.
“Yeah, baby. Let's see if we can figure out what feels good for you.” He hooked a thumb beneath the thin strap of her white tank top, stroking along the wicked edge of lace tracing those delicious curves. She was so damned fine.
“All right, Jack.” She watched him with liquid promise as he drew the straps of the bra cupping her breasts down her arms. “Maybe we'll find something you like, as well.”
“No worries there, baby,” he growled. “You're the prettiest thing I've ever laid eyes on.” Her breasts were sweet, pale mounds cupped in his sun-darkened hands, the nipples flushed with her arousal. And the scent of her—Christ, he could have lain down beside her and just looked and inhaled all night. He gave in to the urge to taste her, licking a path down her neck, exploring. Long before he'd reached those pretty little nipples, she was flushed.
“I like these.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth, swirled his tongue around her as her hands pulled at him. Demanding more. When his lips let go, she clung to him. Savage satisfaction filled him. Yes, he'd been waiting and dreaming all these years, but Lily Cortez had clearly been entertaining her own fantasies.
“Undress,” she demanded. “Now, Jack. I want to see what you've been keeping from me all this time.” The sexy demand had him hardening impossibly, so he pulled the T-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
“I'm all yours, baby,” he drawled. Had been since he'd first laid eyes on her.
 
Jack Donovan was a delicious present she couldn't wait to unwrap. Big and sun-bronzed, his hard body filled her bed. He wasn't gentle. Wasn't patient. So the contrast of his masculine strength with her lace-trimmed sheets was overwhelming. Unforgettable.
Reaching up an arm, she drew him down and closer so she could feel the heated expanse of his bare skin against her breasts. Bare skin scored with small burns and scars.
She pressed a small kiss against one white pucker of skin. “What happened, Jack?”
“Firefighting.” Those broad shoulders shrugged casually as he settled himself above her. “Price of admission, baby.”
“It must have hurt.”
God.
He tasted wild and smoky, and she couldn't get enough of him. Couldn't get close enough as she licked a little circle around one male nipple. The sweet, hot scent of summer poured in the open window, wrapping them both in twilight and warmth. The curtains framing the window barely stirred as the sleepy, heated air slipped in, thick with the scent of fresh-cut grass and lavender. She'd never smell summer again without thinking of Jack.
For the moment, he was all hers—and they had unfinished business.
“Just feel, baby.” He opened his arms, and she wanted the safety he represented, even if it was only an illusion.
Just for tonight,
she promised herself. Or maybe even the summer. Afterward, she could go back to being strong. Being alone.
He was a large, warm presence, waiting for her to choose. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he shifted, and her body slid instinctively toward him, into that seductive hollow.
“Yes,” she decided, reaching for him. She slid her hands along his shoulders, and he felt so damned good, so sleekly muscled. So alive. She was choosing—choosing now—to live her life. To seize life with both hands.
Seize Jack.
“Yes.”
His fingers reached for the snap of her shorts. “Lift up.” When she did, he slid the denim down her legs. When she was wearing just her panties, she decided it was his turn to finish stripping.
Her turn to stare. God, Jack was gorgeous, all sleek and hot as she ran her hands over him, traced the heavy weight straining against the denim of his jeans until he bucked against her fingers. She couldn't wait to see him naked.
“Definitely your turn,” she whispered. Reaching for him, she slid open the buttons of his fly, her breath catching as the soft material parted. He was every bit as glorious as her fantasies had painted him, his thick shaft making her clench and bite her lip with the sudden throb of pleasure deep within. She'd waited so long for this.
The summer breeze playing with the curtains picked up, bringing a whisper of smoke.
Fire
. Instinctively, she tensed, unwanted memories sliding through her head.
“Don't think about him,” Jack growled. “He won't be back tonight. Think about this.”
 
Her stalker wouldn't be coming back, not tonight, but she was frightened, when he wanted her melting for him.
So Jack did what he did best. Distracted. Coaxed. And laid a counterfire.
Carefully he stroked a finger over the flimsy little ribbon fastening the two sides of her string-bikini panties. Traced the rounded curve of her hips, savoring her feminine gasp. He'd wanted her for so long, and now he had her in his arms. No way he would rush this night. No way he would ever forget the woman he held.
She needed to forget, though, forget the fire that had driven her into his arms. So he'd kiss her again, until there was no room in this bed for more than the two of them. Threading one hand through her long hair, he held her gently in place for his kiss. Let his mouth glide lightly over hers, in a slow, decadent press of skin against skin. When a small, breathy moan rewarded his efforts, he gave in to temptation and let his other hand slide slowly down, giving her one last chance to stop him.
She didn't, and he realized she wouldn't. Lily Cortez wanted him. She made him feel like more of a man than he ever had before. Made him feel like a goddamned hero. Special.
Loved.
Desperate for her, he softly touched her, brushing the tips of his fingers over her panties. Watching. This had to be good for her. Better than good. He wanted this to be perfect.
The heat of her against his fingers was unimaginable. The sweetest, hottest fire he'd ever experienced.
At his touch, she stilled. Unsure and curious but drinking in that simple contact between them. And Jack knew he'd never see a more erotic sight in his life than this, his fingers against the white cotton, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. Even as he feared she might reach out to stop him, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, guiding him deeper. Slower. Her moan filling the heated air between them.
Abandoning restraint, Jack tore her panties from her, tossing the scrap of fabric onto the floor, and slid his fingers into her heat. Liquid welcome surrounded him. “You're killing me, baby,” he groaned. “God, you feel so good.”
“So do you,” she whimpered, wrapping her legs around him in feminine demand, pressing up against his thick erection.
“Are you sure?” His dark gaze held hers. One last chance.
“Yeah.” She'd been sure yesterday and the day before but had spun out the delicious anticipation. “I'm tired of running, Jack. Tired of putting my life on hold. I want to live.”
“Good,” he rumbled. “You're so damned good, Lilybell. You have any idea what that does to a man like me? A man like me just might insist on licking you from head to toe, baby.”
She couldn't hold back the shiver that rocked her. “God, please,” she whimpered. He'd made her wait ten years for this moment. He could damn well stop teasing her.
“You real sure, baby?” That wicked mouth slid down her neck again, tasting her skin. Tasting her. As that big, strong body followed, heat tore through her. She couldn't hold in the little noises of pleasure, couldn't keep the husky whimper silent as his tongue teased the curve of her belly, his hands sliding down to cup her hips. Her head fell back onto the pillow, her hands gripping his shoulders.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
“Oh, yeah,” he growled.
His shoulders parted her legs as he gently opened her with his fingers. No escaping the rush of heated pleasure, of knowing she was open to him and there were no more secrets between them. He'd seen her, held her. Now he was going to know every inch of her.
She was open for him. Wet and aching for him.
He exhaled sharply, and the sensual shock of that tiny puff of air against her wet, heated folds sent her pleasure spiraling impossibly higher. The whole world was slowing down. Waiting. For him.
“A little good-night kiss,” he promised. “You'd like that, wouldn't you, Lilybell? A man should always kiss his date good night.”
“If it's been a good night.” White-hot sensation tore through her, stoking the anticipation.
“It will be. And you're a good girl, Lily.” Wicked promise filled his voice, echoed in the gentle stroke of his fingertips just tracing the edge of those swollen folds.
“Maybe,” she whimpered. “You're teasing me, Jack.”
“That's not nice of me.” Dark promise filled his voice.
“I'll kiss you better. All better, Lily. Tonight's for you.”
His first, gentle kiss on her pussy was sweet. Light. The wicked bolt of pleasure had her crying out. “You're so sweet here,” he groaned. “I don't deserve you, Lilybell.”
Then that wicked mouth was exploring her, tasting her. Licking every last inch. Just as he'd promised. When he found her swollen clit and sucked, she arched up, losing herself to the pleasure. To Jack.
“Jack—” He slid up her body even as the keening cry broke from her lips and that terrifying fire burned through her. But he had her.
“Right here, baby,” he whispered against her lips. Pulling away from her for just a moment, he took care of protection, rolling a condom down over his erection as he eased her back down into the sheets. The wind was picking up outside. “You let me in now, sweetheart. Please.”
His fingers eased through her wet folds, parting her. “God, you're so wet.” His harsh breathing made her clench in a primitive response to his desire. He pushed slowly inside, thick and hard. “I want you so damned bad.”
Braced above her, he was a powerful shadow in the night. Fighting the need to take her hard and fast when he knew she needed slow and gentle.
“I'm all yours, Jack. We've got the whole summer.” She moaned as he pressed forward, sliding impossibly deeper. Slowly retreated and moved again. She'd imagined a night spent in Jack Donovan's arms, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality. For the man so intently focused on her. The girl she'd been had wanted him, but the woman she'd become welcomed him. Outside, thunder rumbled, echoing the building tension inside.
Reaching up, she captured his mouth with hers, their fingers tangling together by her head. Fire burned through both of them, an impossible storm of pleasure. His hips moving, taking, pushed her higher and higher as she arched up and into his hot weight. Then he was tearing his mouth from hers, burying his face in her neck. Driving faster and harder, and it didn't matter anymore why he'd left. Why he hadn't come home sooner. The only thing that mattered was the man cradled in her arms and the husky growl ripped from his throat as he finally gave them both what they needed.
BOOK: Burning Up
10.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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