Ablaze

Dylan Band loves women, but after his ex-fiancée cheated on him,
he has decided to create rules to avoid getting hurt again. He plans to stay
commitment and pain-free. If he can have a wondrous one night with a woman,
that's good enough. When Frappuccino-addict Angel McCready comes to stay in the
condo he shares with her grandpa, he knows how to keep his heart well-guarded
from her charm and still flirt with her.

Coming to Seattle, Angel expects to find a relaxing down time. To
get away, to forget that she nearly married a man with horrible secrets. What she
doesn't expect is to find that's she'll be sharing the condo with a delicious
tour guide who must have majored in flirtation, who reads to her to help her
sleep and has made her forget about everything with a simple smile.

Their flirtation escalates to a mind-blowing erotic sex. In two
short weeks, their time together becomes an addiction. Night and day, they
share wondrous times together. Angel is an aphrodisiac Dylan begins to fall in
love with. They're perfect. But there is one problem. Dylan is not what he
presents himself to be.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
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Ablaze

Copyright © 2011
Tierney O'Malley

ISBN: 978-1-55487-955-7

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review,
the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by
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forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by eXtasy Books

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Ablaze

By

Tierney O'Malley

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my ever patient and supportive husband,
Tom. He brought home a brand new Mac one day because I complained that my PC is
already two years old. Thanks, hon.

Chapter One

He liked women. No, erase that. He
loved
women. He loved
their hair, eyes, body, and scent. Even the way they move, moan, and whimper erotically
was enough to make him hard. No wonder women helped make porn a multimillion-dollar
business industry. Women were the most exquisite creatures on earth. Hands
down.

Making love to a woman was comparable to watching the day being
born. It made him feel alive and lucky to experience the wonders of human kind.
Everything about women, like a human heart, was interesting and wonderful. They
were soft and yet powerful enough to make any man go down on his knees. Oh,
yeah, they have power over men and know how to use it to their Goddamn advantage.
Like making a man feel so fucking little and insignificant. No matter how much
you care for them, love them, worship them, they would still squash your heart anytime
they wish. As if a man's heart was some kind of a fucking gnat that annoyed
them. Shit.

Yeah, loving a woman was like picking up a rock and then hitting
your head with it. Too fucking bad he learned this the hard way. Still, he
learned. No way would he put himself in another relationship. A quick fuck with
one of them would be enough. There is no need to linger in bed or share sweet
nothings or whisper bullshit stuff about what they should do for the rest of
the day or the next. No. That shit was just for the romantics.

For years now, he'd been living his life free of nasty drama, pain
and blinding foolish nauseating love. Thanks to his own rule, his heart had
been well-guarded.

Emotions, he found out too late, only led to engagement, marriage and
then heartache. He knew, firsthand, what it felt like to have his heart broken
in a million pieces. It wouldn't happen again. Love and commitment were bull
and thus had no room in his life.

Dylan leaned his shoulder against the cool
glass window and stared at the orange-purple morning sky. A new day was about
to be born. Sighing, he scanned the view of the city of Seattle bathed in
beautiful colors of early morning as if God himself splashed a bucket of paint
all over it. But, like everything else, this fantastic view would soon fade. In
a few hours, the sun would break through the clouds. He'd been awake hours ago,
even before the sun woke up from its slumber. This was totally unlike him.

Late night drinking with his brothers would
keep him in bed at least until noon. A most amazing dream about a beautiful
woman had woke him up. In his dream, the woman was lying on her side with her upper
leg resting on his shoulder while he, in a kneeling position, entered her. Their
position had enabled him to fuck her deep and hard like a wild man, hitting her
G-spot, making her scream for more. Damn, the dream was so vivid and felt so
real that when he opened his eyes he expected to see the woman beside him. Who
was she? He woke up wanting her, needing her. He could still hear her moan,
feel himself slide in and out of her, but for the love of him, he couldn't
remember her face. What he did remember was her sensuality and wildness in bed--so
willing and so uninhibited. Too damn bad he woke up before he could finish. Why
did he wake up?

Thinking about his erotic dream made him hard--again. Damn, his
body was still on fire. He hadn't had sex in a month. Yeah, only a month and
yet his body, even when asleep, craved it as if he'd been without a woman for
ages. Maybe he should visit Ivy again and get this fucking burning heat out of
his system. Perhaps, maybe a moment with Ivy would help him get back on his
groove and spice up the sex scene in the last chapter of his book. He glanced
at the clock at his bedside. Too early. Ivy would still be in la-la land right
now, but if he called her and she answered, they'd be in heaven before the
rooster crowed.

Between him and Ivy, it was all about
physical gratification. Ivy wanted a lover that would help her financially in
addition to a warm night and he wanted a warm body. No attraction and
commitment involved. Period. Ivy was a young widow once married to a powerful
man of means. When her husband was prosecuted for embezzlement from his company
funds, their properties disappeared as fast as they accumulated them.
Beautiful, sensual, and an expert in bed, she found it easier to use her body
to earn instead of getting a real job and swallow her pride. Heck, how many
times had Ivy proved that she'd made a good move? Many times. Ivy was an expert
alright.

Dylan walked over to his bed, sat on the edge, reached for his
cell phone and began dialing Ivy's number. However, before he hit the last digit,
he remembered why he hadn't visited her in over a month.
Ivy's subtle hints about them being a perfect
couple, on how she wished he would stay overnight and that she would love to go
on a trip with him anywhere gave him reason to believe that she fell for him.
Without a doubt, Ivy wanted a relationship beyond what they initially agreed.
Goddamn.
He wouldn't allow it.

Dylan stared at his phone. Time to say
goodbye. Time to move on, he thought.

He wasn't Ivy's first fuckmate and he'd bet
his balls, he wouldn't be her last. If he ended their affair now, she wouldn't
have anything against him. But he wouldn't just turn his back on Ivy. He wasn't
a total ass to just leave a woman without fulfilling his end of the bargain. He'd
pay for her bills until the end of this year. It was what they had agreed on--to
support her, take care of her bills while they were together. But after that,
no more.

Three years ago, he vowed never to get emotionally
involved with a woman. Never again.

If he could get a fantastic fuck without his
feelings involved
,
then he was more than glad
to live like this forever. No strings attached meant no heartache and
disappointment.
Fuck love. He tossed his cell phone back on the table. Forget
about Ivy. He combed his hair with his fingers, then closed his eyes.

Dreams happen to anybody. Didn't matter whether you're highly sexed
or practicing abstinence. He'd been staying up late almost every night, polishing
his erotic book, thinking about how to spice it up a bit. The scene must have resided
at the back of his head and produced a delicious dream. Good explanation there.

Dylan thought about driving to his restaurant, but when he glanced
at his table where his laptop sat, it beckoned him to come. A familiar itch to
write nagged at him. Might as well write now that he was wide awake. Besides,
writing would definitely keep his mind off Ivy, his dream, and his throbbing
cock. Dylan pushed off the bed, walked over to his desk, then sat on his chair.
He stared at his desktop with its unusual background area--a typewritten rules.
He saved it on his screen so each time he opened his laptop, the red letters
were the first thing he could see. Like right now.

He could recite the rules even in his sleep, but for some reason,
reading it made the words more effective. Taking a deep breath, he began
reading:
One: Flirt, fuck, but run when feelings start to get involved.
Hell
yeah. Why involve feelings when all you need is a few hours of heaven, he
thought.
Two:
Forget love. It happens only in romance books. It's
bullshit.
Dylan sneered, then continued reading.
Three:
Don't
exchange cellphone numbers. Just give a phony one.
Four: No sharing of
personal information (leads to a relationship and then fucking heartache). Keep
your secrets. No matter what.
Five: Women are a distraction. Who needs
them?

He wrote it the night he and his ex, Camille, went their separate
ways. He'd been pain free since then. Yeah, stick to the rule and the sun will
never go down on him again. With his lust finally under control, Dylan double
clicked on a folder where he saved his unpolished manuscript.

Time to work.

One more click and a document opened. This one he titled
Goddess
of the Night.

Chapter Two

"Wow. This feels heavenly." Angel Cloud McCready grinned
at Bianca. Her best friend sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. On one
hand she held a television remote control while the other was buried deep
inside the container of Dibs chocolate.

"Well, this tastes heavenly." Bianca popped another Dibs
in her mouth.

"You won't be able to wear your dress if you keep that up.
And who's going to be my bridesmaid if you turn into a blimp?" Angel
turned to the left, then to the right, loving the feel of her gown's skirt
against her skin. When she found this gown, Angel fell in love with it
instantly. The material was made out of Ivory silk satin organza. The design,
strapless with pleated bodice and embroidered A-line skirt, complemented her
shape. "I love this gown."

"You're not going to love the result of your stubbornness
though."

"Oh, shut it. No cataclysm or some goofy thing will come to
me and this gown." Bianca had warned her not to try on her gown. She had said,
in earnest, that it would bring bad luck. But Angel thought that old wives tale
was just a crock full of stinky made up saying.

Unlike Bianca
,
who believed in tarot, palm
reading and super superstitions, Angel did not believe in anything that had to
do with future telling and old sayings
,
especially when it came
to wearing a wedding gown prior to the wedding day.

Angel turned to her side to see her stomach's profile in the
mirror.
"So what do you think, Bi?"

Bianca popped a small marshmallow shaped chocolate in her mouth. Her
round deep blue eyes widened and she let out a gasp. "Lord, you are the
most beautiful bride on the planet earth. I bet everyone, especially the men, will
drool and pant when they see you in that gown. Now, take it off."

"That's exactly what you said last time I tried this on."

"Well, I haven't changed my opinion this third time." Bianca
licked her index finger and thumb. "Try that dress again the fourth time
and I'll say it again. You're the most beautiful bride on the planet earth.
Now, please take it off. I'm eating chocolates, for God's sakes."

"Just stay on that side of the room.
This will be the last time. Promise."

"Ha! And Christian Bale is waiting in
my bed. Naked."

Angel laughed. "Oh, Bi. What am I going
to do without you."

"You'd be as lonely as the moon and the dullest star in the
sky. Come on, take that thing off. You're making me nervous. You look fine. Don't
worry. Men will envy Willy when they see you walk the aisle."

"I don't care about what the other men
think. All I care is what Willy will think. Do you think he'll be proud when he
sees me in this?"

"I doubt every groom cares about their bride's gown. They
just care about what's underneath. Oh, wait. Maybe not, Willy. Because he
already saw what's beneath that strapless bundle of lace and silk."

"Shut up!" Angel threw her white
elbow length gloves at Bianca.

Bianca caught one glove. The other hit her on the face. "You're
blushing. I bet Willy is already thinking about what what he'll do to you on your
honeymoon."

"I don't want to think about that yet. One thing at a time. I
haven't gotten past this gown." It had been over a month since she and
Willy had made love. Willy was too busy with work and they hardly saw each
other anymore. He explained that distance would make them yearn for each other
like two lovers separated for years. So the next time they slept together as husband
and wife
,
they'd set their bed on fire. She supposed smoking hot bed was
worth the wait. "Remember the spaghetti strap gown with pearls on the hem that
I tried? Do you think I should--"

"Nothing is wrong with your gown. Good God, what else do you
need? You're wearing a modified
Princess Diana's
and it cost almost
forty thousand dollars. That's a lot of money for something you'll wear not
even a day."

"That's why I should keep trying it on.
What do you think about the neckline and the belt?"

"Perfect. Boobs well-presented and waistline small enough to
make Barbie
look fat."

"Now you're teasing."

Bianca laughed
and
then stopped when she realized she used the
glove to wipe her mouth.
"Oh, no! Crap, Angel.
Dibs got on your gloves."

"What? Let me see."

Bianca tossed the glove back to Angel.

Angel's shoulders slumped as she examined the stain. "Bi!
Looks like you squeezed Dibs on this."

"You threw it at me!" Bianca tapped her lips with her
fingers. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, my God." Angel looked at
clock. "We need to go to the drycleaner right now."

"No worries. We can easily remedy that. We'll use vinegar."

"
What?"

"Vinegar is good with anything. I tried cleaning my garbage
disposal before and it worked fine. Got rid of the broccoli smell right away.
Tried it on my toilet bowl also. Man, the sucker sparkled like a tooth fairy's
halo."

"
Bianca, this is silk. Vinegar might ruin the material. I'll
take this to the cleaner. This is bad. So, so bad. Let's go. Pronto. You're
coming with me."

"Uhm, Angel. It's almost ten. King's Drycleaner is already
closed."

"There are other places."

"What's the rush? It's not like you're getting married
tomorrow. Just soak it in vinegar all night. Take off your gown before the
total bad luck wraps around you."

"Darn it, Bi. You're making me mad."

"Sorry. But I think you should thank me on this one. Now, you
have an excuse not to wear those granny-moth-scented gloves."

Angel sniffed the glove. Yeah, it smelled like mold, but it
belonged to Willy's grandmother, and her future mother-in-law insisted that she
wear them. "Wanda will probably hate me for this."

"Forget about Wanda. You're not marrying that snooty woman
anyway. Come on, Angel. No need to panic. You have a week before the wedding."

"A week feels like a day when there's so
many things to think and prepare and
―
"

"Shush! You're fine."

"You have to help me unbutton this
thing."

"How did you manage to put it on?"

"With my fingers, you silly butt. Are
your hands clean?"

"Oh, yeah. Wait." Bianca ran into the bathroom with the
glove. Minutes later, she came back out
,
wiping her hands with a
face towel. "Jeez, I warned you about the chocolates. You should have
listened to me. You should have tried your gown in a bubble
,
not
around someone enjoying her ice cream."

"I wasn't thinking." Angel let out
a long sigh, letting her shoulders sag. "To tell you the truth I'm not
really excited about the gloves." Angel sat at the edge of the bed. The
soft thin material of her gown flowed around her. "Do you think the
chocolate stain will come off?"

"It's in the sink. Soaking in your lavender soap. You should
have put your foot down. You don't like the gloves
,
just
say so. It's your wedding after all."

"Bianca, you don't want me to start my new life on a bad term
with Wanda, right?

"She's a witch." Bianca sat behind Angel
,
then
began undoing the gown's buttons. "Suck in. I can't undo the buttons."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Of course, you butt." Bianca laughed. "Wow. Willy
will have a tough time unbuttoning this dress. He should practice otherwise
―
"

"What?"

"He'll be soft by the time he finishes undoing these things."

Angel turned to face her friend. "Oh,
my God, you're right. Should I try a zippered gown or Velcro? Quicker way to remove
this thing." She wiggled her brows.

Both women started laughing. She'd known Bianca
since sixth grade. They knew each other's secrets, exes, heartaches, family
troubles and dreams. And even in times like this, only Bianca could make her
laugh. Bianca was a sister she never had. "You should find your groom-to-be
soon, Bi. Remember, our kids will get married someday."

"What do you want me to do? Sign-up to
Match.com or Harmony."

"How about Comic-con or Star Trek dork
conventions, recovery programs, bar theme nights. Or go to Texas wearing cowboy
boots and a hat, then stand in a corner holding a sign
looking for trouble
.
That should do it."

"Very funny. You know, it's better if I meet my soul mate
when I least expect it."

"Not that serendipity again."

"It'll happen. And I'd rather wait than meet someone wearing
a Star Trek costume. Hey, if you're really worried about the glove, just add
vinegar
―
"

"
No,
Martha Stewart. Soap is good for tonight and then we are going to the
drycleaners tomorrow."

"Don't use it. What's the use of having an eighty-five dollar
manicure if you will just cover your nails. Besides, the yellowish color doesn't
match your pristine white gown."

"I know. It's kind of yellow, huh?"

"Yup."

"Thank you, Bi. Sometimes I feel you're
the only one supporting me in this journey I'm about to make."

"Of course, I support your decision to marry Willy, Angel. I'll
support you even if you marry that hunky garbage collector. But…"

"But?"

Bianca wrapped her arms around Angel, her chin rested on Angel's
shoulder. "You know how I feel about Willy."

"You've been telling me since you read my tarot cards. That
was before we started dating."

"Right. Because he made me feel uncomfortable and…and I have
a feeling he is not what he seems."

Angel twisted around to look at Bianca. "What
do you mean?"

"Look. He's always gone to his mini-trips and when he comes
back, he's like a totally different person. Did you notice that he doesn't look
anyone in the eye when he speaks?"

"Because he's shy, Bi."

"Shy my fat butt
,
"
Bianca mumbled. "Well, if you think he is
,
then fine. Where did he say he's going for the weekend?"

"California conventions."

"Making more money, huh--Stop moving. These buttons are so
tiny.

"Learning more about new computer chips
or something."

"God, you're marrying a geek. I won't be surprised if he
decided to leave you for his computer."

"You're mean." Bianca may be joking, but sometimes,
Angel felt there was something different about Willy, too. He was always glued
to his computer, spent more time away than at home and he seemed not interested
in sex anymore. Angel sighed. She shouldn't fret about the negative stuff. She
would be Willy's wife in a week. All doubts should be removed from her heart. Oh,
and she should just remember what he said about distance. Distance would
intensify their need for each other. Willy was right.

She and Willy would be married soon. They would start a new life.
Doubts shouldn't have room in her heart. "Willy won't leave me," she
said. More to herself, but Bianca heard her.

"You know I'm all joke, Angel. There you go. You're free. Took
only three minutes. Not bad, but for Willy, three would be too long of a wait."

"Oh, stop it."

"Need help putting that away?"

"No. After the wedding, you wouldn't be there to help me with
this. Gotta practice."

Bi picked up the remote control and then began flipping through
the channels. "Oh, this is a good show."

"Cake Masters? Change the channel. God,
food channels should be shut down. That's one of the many reasons why obesity
is a problem in America. Not only those channels promote eating, it makes
people sit around in front of television, dreaming about food."

"You always have opinions on about anything."

Angel tried to snatch the remote, but Bianca
moved it away from her. "Change the damn channel."

"Change your damn gown. Be quick before your luck changes."

"You and your superstitious beliefs." Angel stood up. On
her way to the table where a white rectangular box sat, she tried to grab the
remote again. "Give me that."

Bi laughed, rolled on the bed and tucked the remote inside her
shirt. "You should watch this and learn how to cook. You'll be a wife
soon, you know. Brownies and cookies will not feed your family."

"I know that. And for your information,
I know how to cook."