Burn Me if You Can (2 page)

“I half thought you would run the other way when you entered.” The bartender approached and wiped her hands on a towel. “Two shots of coconut rum.” Ashton kept his eyes on Bekah while he ordered, pinning her with his gaze.

“The thought did cross my mind.” She didn’t admit the gravitational pull demanded she park her ass right next to him. “Being paired with you astonished me. I wasn’t expecting the full package, you could say.” Bekah took the shot of 5

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rum and raised it to his. “To new people.”

“Cheers.”

They tossed their shots, and Bekah licked a drop that lingered on her lips. Her date’s nostrils flared as he watched. She inhaled in a shallow breath and fought to clear the fog hazing her self-control. Seduction at that moment wasn’t planned.

Yet, as his face descended toward hers, she didn’t pull away but leaned forward to meet his lips. Awareness spiked to new levels as he kissed her with masterful control, easing her mouth apart to taste her. Under his spell, she drowned and placed her hands on his shoulders for an anchor. He tasted of whiskey. Just as she got used to his delicious invasion, he broke the kiss with an abrupt halt.

Shaken, she witnessed him rein himself in. Had he lost control with just a kiss?

Hell, she was stuck for words her damn self. Flushed with arousal, she brought her eyes level with his.

“There’s an ice breaker.” Ashton tapped his glass on the bar top, turned and touched her lips with the pad of his thumb.

“I wasn’t expecting a kiss,” Bekah babbled, and reached for the second shot that mysteriously appeared in front of her.

“My way of thanking you for such a nice compliment.”

Bekah corralled her wandering thoughts, or, rather, tried to. She had to imagine, if that was his way of thanking her for a simple compliment, what did he do to… really thank a girl for pleasing him? When she broke from woolgathering, she found him appraising her. Caught. Red. Handed. She waited for him to apologize, or at least look embarrassed. She crossed her arms under her breasts, and then realized her act only popped them up more for his viewing pleasure. He held a half smirk on his face, and his eyes danced with mirth.

“Damn, you’re beautiful.”

How in the hell was a person to maintain a semblance of irritation when completely disarmed? “You’re forgiven…I suppose.”

“Ready for dinner?” He stood and offered her his arm.

“You’re not planning on shanghaiing me out of here, are you?” She could only hope.

“Not this second. I do have
some
gentlemanly qualities. I never seduce on an 6

Burn Me If You Can

empty stomach.” He winked at her and kept his hand just short of touching skin, hovering on her lower back as they were shown to the dining area.

Private tables, sequestered within canvas tents, were draped with cream-colored silks. Ashton stepped to the side to allow her to enter and eased her chair out for her. No one had ever pulled out her seat before that day, and she glowed at how special his consideration made her feel. She smiled at him as he sat down across from her and pulled his chair closer to the table. Faint candlelight created a sensual mood. Soft music played in the background.

***

“Ready for some Cuban fine dining?” Ashton handed her a menu.

“I’ve never had Cuban food, but I love spicy dishes. You?”

“I love food—any food.” Ashton watched her in amusement. Her teeth biting and letting go of her bottom lip, the flicker of indecision in her eyes, the same flicker he’d seen earlier as he’d tasted her sweet mouth. So what if she caught him staring at her firm breasts. A man could get lost in caressing the bountiful melons. While he was staring, he imagined the color of her nipples and areolas to be a nice mocha shade, a tad darker than her gorgeous year-round tan. Turquoise jewelry enhanced her beauty, and the shortness of her dress told him she wasn’t entirely against playing.

In the mirrored wall, he’d watched as she arrived, drank in her beauty, and pretended he hadn’t seen her observing him as well. She failed to notice anything but he and the bartender, and that was just fine with him. “I suggest a mojito, if you’re having chicken or fish, or the house red wine if you’re having beef.”

“Mojito with dinner? Isn’t that more of a poolside drink?”

Ashton leaned back. “Yeah, it is but trust me it’ll cool off the fire in your mouth from the Caribbean spices.” When the waiter approached, he closed his menu.

“What would you like?”

“Caribbean Heatwave skewered shrimp and chicken breast, and a mojito, please.”

“Very good, ma’am, and sir will be having?”

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“The Cuban skirt steak and house red wine.”

“Very good sir, ma’am,” the waiter said and bowed, taking his leave from them.

‘Excellent manners.”

Her Midwest twang turned him on, but a first date was no time to act like a randy adolescent. “Yes, they have great customer service here.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I travel a lot.” He gave his vague answer in an undertone.

“I read that in your profile. But it didn’t tell me what you do.” The investigative reporter came to the surface.

He steepled his hands together, pausing before speaking. “I handle freight.” He struggled to think of a better reply, frowning in puzzlement as she shrank back and refused to meet his eyes.

“I knew it was too good to be true. Here I am in another country, and with a drug dealer, no doubt. I refuse to be your mule,” she whispered, so low he barely heard her off-base accusation.

Laughter rumbled from his chest, Ashton clenched his jaw and snapped his eyes to her face. “I am not a drug dealer or a cartel boss.”

“How do I know that? A private jet brought me here, a limo. I’m not paying anything extra, and suddenly I have the impression that my job isn’t paying for my trip.”

“Calm down, sweetness. I promise you, I am a legit businessman.” Christ, the whole point of this mystery date was to meet someone who didn’t know about his position in the business world. “Answer me this, are money and the finer things in life important to you, Bekah?”

“What an absurd question. Of course money and financial security are important.”

If the situation wasn’t a potential disaster, he’d have found it humorous. “In a relationship?”

Bekah shrugged, and her rigid body posture and confused facial expression let him know that she wasn’t sure where he was going with his line of questioning, probably a good thing he wasn’t the reporter here. He changed tactics. “In your profile, you didn’t specify what qualifications a man must have for a chance to 8

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date you. Is how much money a man is willing to spend on you a factor?”

“Of course not. I’m not a gold digger,” she replied.

An awkward silence ensued while the wait staff brought their food and drinks.

As soon as they were alone in the tent again, he picked up the thread of the conversation where they were interrupted.

“Why?”

“Remember we both said on our profiles that dating places were little more than hoaxing unsuspecting people.”

“So?” he asked, cutting into his steak.

“So…we’re here to prove them wrong.” Bekah sampled some shrimp from her skewer and immediately grabbed for her drink.

“Take sips. Told you it was spicy.” Ashton continued with his line of questioning. “And if we’re wrong?” At his question, she stopped chewing. He surmised he’d used a poor choice of words.

“Wrong? Attraction is attraction, healthy between two consenting adults. It doesn’t equate to love, or even the fervor of love at first sight.”

She polished off a skewer of shrimp and bit into her chicken. He watched her, amused by her ferocious appetite. “Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

He let the implication of her words and the burning passion in her tone drop and continued to eat. “Back to my job, so there are no misunderstandings. I own the largest freighting company in the United States.” As he explained himself to her, he realized how out of character it was for him to communicate anything other than a command or order. Yet he found himself telling her all the details he’d intended to keep to himself. So their date didn’t end up a total failure, here in this romantic, overseas setting, he opened up enough to soothe her worries. A drug dealer. Priceless. He watched her relax and then stiffen once she comprehended he wasn’t scum. The expression on his face must’ve appeared murderous in nature, for she’d paled a bit. “Drink your mojito.” Ashton strained to control the whiplash tone in his voice. She’d insulted him, and he still wanted to bring her to nirvana.

“I’m so sorry for the accusation.”

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“No problem.” He forced a smile and hoped the tick in his jaw would go away.

“Dessert?” Even in his current state of mind, she evoked a dark desire within him.

He hadn’t felt this alive in years. With her, he could kick back and relax. Her body was built for him, strong enough for him to bury his cock in her warm, velvety sex and drill his irritation away, giving into the unspoken innuendo. Simply put, he’d be hard pressed to break her.

“In your room or mine?” Bekah licked her lips and set down her empty glass.

“Mine, of course.” Ashton stood and wiped his mouth on his napkin. He took out his wallet and tossed a hefty tip on the table. The dinner would be charged to his room. “Ready?”

Her pebbled nipples filled his vision, and he forced himself tear his eyes away.

“Yes.” Bekah slipped her hand into his, and he smiled. She was wound up tighter than a corked bottle of wine needing to breathe. He nodded to the wait staff as they wove their way through the restaurant. Halfway to the elevators, Bekah wobbled, and he snaked a hand around her waist, pulling her to him to steady her. “Cute shoes.” Her body relaxed against his, and he slowed his stride to compensate for her tipsy gait. Her soft murmur brought a smile to his lips and he realized she wasn’t much of a drinker. Three mojitos during dinner may have been one—or two—too many. In her state, his needs would have to wait, though he planned on sating her ravenous hunger, on his time.

“I’m feeling a bit dizzy,” Bekah slurred, holding onto him.

“We’re almost there, sweetness.” When Ashton steadied her once more, mumbled an expletive and lifted her into his arms, her hand brushed his overeager cock. On a groan, he finagled the key into the slot, entering the elevator. Fuck, if she didn’t smell good. He placed the brand of her perfume and inhaled as the elevator rose and stopped on their floor. “Not too far away now,”

he promised her.

Ten seconds later the elevator dinged and hissed open, allowing them to depart. She fit so perfectly in his arms, he had to remind himself not to get used to the small pleasure he received from holding onto her. Walking in long strides soon placed them in front of his door. “The key is in my pocket,” he said, and waited for her to pluck it out and slide it against the magnetic strip.

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Burn Me If You Can

“Carrying me across the threshold seems a bit premature,” Bekah teased.

“Smart ass woman.” He balanced her and turned the knob, taking them inside.

“Who me? Home, sweet home.”

“Yes, it is for now.” Ashton chuckled. “I’ll be right back.” He set her down on the bed and stepped into his bathroom, hunting for a few aspirin and a glass of water. When he returned, Rebekah, the vision of sexiness, lay sprawled on his bed, naked save a thong and her sexy, open-toed shoes. Sexy heels hadn’t been a particular fetish, but the way they enhanced her shapely legs incited his already tamped-down arousal. He’d gladly add them to his list of top ten favorites. She definitely wasn’t making things easy on him.

“Welcome back. I thought you were going to leave me all on my lonesome.”

He listened to her words and watched her luscious mouth part in a husky sigh.

She stretched with a catlike grace that took his breath away, and his thought processes with it. “Here, open up.” She obeyed, and he popped the pills into her mouth. “Aspirin.” He tilted up her head to take a few swallows of water.

“So, sweet. Are you coming to bed?”

Ashton took his time stripping his clothes off. For added benefit, he flexed his biceps then flicked his trouser button open. His cock had aspirations of its own it seemed, springing out hot and heavy. Throbbing. Bekah enjoyed the show; her gaze stayed honed on his cock. With a wink, he strutted naked, allowing her to take her time to admire his physique. He pivoted and gave her a view of his ass as he headed to his suitcase.

“Commando, nice!”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. Her delayed retort pleased him. Horny like a randy teenager wouldn’t do. He shook his head and put on a pair of lounge pants, not trusting himself not to take what was so freely offered. “You should go to sleep.”

“I want—”

“Me too—when you aren’t dizzy from alcohol, but from my touch.” He kissed her nape, trailing a hand down the valley of her breasts.

“That’s so not nice. You bring me here, wine and dine me, then refuse me.”

Ashton smoothed his hand over her nipple and slid his palm down to her navel. “I’m not a nice guy.” She turned into his touch, and he felt that spark of 11

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awareness heighten. Her arousal filled his nostrils, though he contented himself by touching her soft skin.

“Liar.” Bekah placed her hand over his and tugged it down to her pussy.

“Uh-uh.” He allowed her to move his hand close to her mons, stopping shy of her lips.

“Finger me, please, so I can go to sleep. I swear I’m not usually such an easy date.”

“Since you asked in such a sugar-sweet tone, how can I resist?” Leaning over her, he ran his fingers along the seam of her thigh, pinching her fat outer lips, skimming close to her clit and then thrusting his index finger inside her tight, velvet core.

“Ohh, you’re so wicked.”

“Ain’t nothing yet,” he said, as he added a second finger, continuing to torture her pussy in slow, sensual touches. Entranced by the way she responded to his touch with such abandon, he needed to feel more of her, to hear her haggard breathing. “So sexy.” He glided his fingers over her skin as soft as playing the strings of his guitar, plucking and teasing, wrenching mewls of pleasure from her.