Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1) (11 page)

By the time Sunday rolls around, I’m in full-on panic mode. I’ve spent four evenings in a row at Shane’s house, and though I’ve done my best to squeeze in homework during the day, I didn’t allow myself near enough time for my project that’s due in my biochemistry class tomorrow.

My frazzled state has drawn all three of my roommates to my room. I hurriedly explain I’m working on a major project due in the morning and would they please go away.

Not surprisingly, that doesn’t work at all.

Ashley’s giving me a puzzled look. “When was it assigned?”

“Last Monday.”

“Well, what have you been doing all week?”

“Or shall we say,
who
have you been doing all week?” Sam says with a grin.

I look up from my book long enough to scowl at her.

“I don’t think Isabella’s going to get behind on school work over some guy,” Chloe says, calmly brushing out her long auburn hair.

“There’s a first for everything,” Sam says.

Well that’s for damn sure,
I think.

“Look I’m just... taking a lot of classes. Now will you all please let me alone so I can get this shit done?”

You would think I’d learned my lesson, but two weeks later I’m once again behind on work because I’m at Shane’s instead of doing my homework like I should be. I have no idea if he’s getting behind in his work too and don’t want to ask. I just want to be right here, in his bed and in his arms.

Our bare chests are lightly pressed against one another and our legs entwined. I’m gently running my fingers over his arms. Yet again. His arms and chest are just so touchable.

I’m trying to convince myself to get up and get going on my homework—I brought my laptop bag—but I suspect this may be yet another evening when it sits in the corner, unused and neglected.

“So...” Shane says softly, watching his hand as it strokes my collar bone. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It may not be any of my business.”

My lips curl into a smile. I wonder what scandalous question he has in mind. “Yes?” I prompt.

“Why don’t you use your Maddox name?”

I freeze and his eyes flit up to mine. I can’t read his expression.

“What?” I ask.

“Isn’t it Isabella Procopio Caivano Nikas Maddox?”

“Um.” I can feel the vein in my neck pulsing against his fingertips. “Yes. How did you find out?” I realize there are people on campus who know. It’s been out since Freshman year, really, but it doesn’t come up often and I’m pretty sure most people have no idea.

“At the meeting,” he says. He’s on the Alumni Relations Committee and they had a meeting this afternoon. “We were discussing fundraising strategies and Professor Jennings said something about it being a pity that Carl and Linda Maddox don’t contribute, but maybe they will once Isabella graduates.”

I’m watching him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Professor Westingfield was sitting to my left,” he continues. “I leaned over and asked him if they were talking about you. He said yes and that you don’t use the Maddox name on campus.”

“I see.” I look down at my fingers, resting on his relaxed bicep.

“I’m sorry if I’m not supposed to know.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not... exactly a secret.”

I shrug my shoulder, trying not to look too upset. Or be too upset.

“I just... try to keep stuff like that in the background” I say. “And my parents don’t not contribute because they’re stingy,” I say, a little defensively. “I just don’t want special treatment for the sake of donations.”

“I can understand that.”

“I wanted to come here and do well on my own merits,” I continue, “and I think I’ve done that.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” he says gently. “And no one was criticizing them. That’s not the impression I got anyway. It’s not like we were discussing it. Professor Jennings just said it in passing and everyone went on.”

My thumb rubs his bicep half an inch, then stills. I give him a sideways glance.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says.

“I’m not upset,” I say. “It’s fine.”

He purses his lips at me and narrows his eyes, as if deciding if he wants to press me any further. I’m hoping he doesn’t. I don’t know why, but it’s making me feel uneasy that he knows. It’s not that I have a reason not to trust him, but sometimes people I’ve dated have changed when they realize there’s a lot of money involved. I’ve seen it before.

Though, we’re not exactly dating, are we?

I take a breath and try to let go of my uneasiness. He hasn’t done anything wrong.

He places a kiss on my shoulder, looking up at me.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye and smile slightly.

Encouraged, he places another kiss farther up, resting his lips on my collar bone. God, but he feels good.

I settle deeper into the pillows, tilting my head to give him more room.

Taking my invitation, he scoots closer and kisses the crook of my neck, parting his lips and tasting me with his tongue.

I let out a little sigh.

He slowly climbs on top of me, curling his arm under my shoulder and looking me in the eye. I wonder if he sees me differently now. No longer just Isabella, but Isabella Maddox.

“It doesn’t seem fair, though,” he says, with a grin and a glint in his eye.

“What?”

“Here you’re up to five names and I still only have two.”

I grin. “No, I gave you Procopio, remember? So it’s four to three.”

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine. “I can live with that.”

He kisses me then, wiping away nearly all rational thought. A minute later he pulls away, leaving me breathless.

“I want to go somewhere with you,” he says softly, rubbing my nose again. “Dinner at a nice restaurant or something.”

My eyes widen. “We can’t. We could be seen.”

“Not if we go to Swan Pointe.”

I think about that. It’s down on the coast, about an hour and a half away from Hartford College and the city limits of Rosebrook. It’s kind of far to drive for dinner, but it would be worth it if I could go to an actual restaurant with him, out in the open like a regular couple.

He smiles at me. “Commoners would be nice. It’s very romantic. Have you been there?”

Commoners is one of the formal restaurants attached to Rivers Paradise Resort. He zeroed in on the nicest place in Swan Pointe, that’s for sure. In fact, it could be argued Rivers Paradise Resort is the nicest place in California. Commoners would be perfect, but it’s a no go.

“My parents are friends with the owners,” I say apologetically. “I don’t need them seeing me there with you. Awkward questions and all.”

“Ah. How about The Net?”

“Oooh, I love their coconut shrimp!”

“Then we’re agreed. Great food.” His voice drops. “Romantic atmosphere. It’s pretty pricey, too.”

I blink, wondering why he cares if it’s pricey.

“It’ll be nice to be out somewhere with you,” he says, kissing me deeply, and running his hand over my breast, clearly warming up for something more. My body responds, unable to resist.

I tuck my fear away, for the moment, and allow myself to sink into the drug that is Shane Brooks.

Around four-thirty Tuesday afternoon, I pull up to a hardware store on the outskirts of Rosebrook to find Shane already there waiting for me. He opens the door to his black Subaru BRZ and I quickly slide in. He casually surveys the area as he comes around and gets in the driver’s seat.

“Pretty sweet ride,” I say, tugging my skirt down a bit. I’m wearing a little black number which, when I’m sitting, shows off nearly my entire thigh. I’m excited to go somewhere special with him, so I pulled out all the stops today. I’m already being rewarded with the way he’s eyeing me hungrily.

“It was a gift,” he says distractedly, still checking out my legs. He throws the car into reverse and backs up.

I vaguely wonder who gave it to him, but don’t ask because I’m too busy admiring how scrumptious he looks. He’s wearing a black suit and tie with a blue silk shirt. I want to rip it right off him.

“Why aren’t we going somewhere with a bed again?” I ask innocently.

He gives me a seductive glance and gets us on the road.

I behave myself for the entire first half hour of the drive. An epic feat considering the fact that just sitting next to him is driving me crazy. He’s not even doing anything over there except talking to me and looking all fucking delicious.

I’m hopeless. I know. I can’t help it.

We’re on a stretch of road that winds down the mountains on the way to the coast. Green trees line both sides and the late afternoon sun winks in on us as we go in and out of the shadows.

He’s telling me about a trip his family once took driving up the coast, and I’m trying to listen. I really am. But, as if my body has a mind all its own, I slowly reach down and pinch the fabric of my dress between my fingers.

“Alvin kept complaining the whole way,” Shane is saying as I start to hitch my skirt up, inch by inch, “but Loren and I just ignored him and...” his eyes glance down at my lap and I smile. “...and...”

I pull my skirt up to reveal my purple lace panties. My purple lace
see-through
panties.

Shane swerves to get back in his lane.

Both hands gripping the wheel and eyes on the road he says, “Damn, honey. We’re going to get in an accident if you keep that up.”

“Well then, you’d better pull over.”

He eyes me to see if I’m serious.

I smile and raise my eyebrows.

He almost looks alarmed now and I have to laugh. I’m still aching for him though, so I spread my legs slightly and slowly reach over toward his cock.

“Uh...” he says, glancing between my crotch and the road. “Uh...”

My hand hits its target and I smile. “I see you’re ready for me,” I say.

“Isabella,” he says, “we’re
driving
sweetheart.”

“There’s a rest stop a mile up the road. I saw a sign.” I firmly rub my hand down his hard shaft. He’s wearing suit pants, and I’m glad I’m not having to work against the thick fabric of jeans.

He gets that look on his face. That look that says he wants more.

“We have... reservations,” he says unconvincingly.

I undo his button with one hand and work the zipper down. He springs free on his own. I smile. “Then we’d better hurry.”

He laughs shakily. “Honey, there’s no room in this car to—”

But I’ve dodged under the shoulder strap of my seat belt and dipped my head in the direction of his cock. I’ve never done anything like this, but pushing the limits is all I seem to do with Shane.

“Eyes on the road, baby,” I say, then take his head into my mouth, sucking on it. He moans and his foot lets off the accelerator.

He takes me by the shoulder and firmly lifts me up. “At the rest stop,” he says thickly. “I’m gonna wreck this thing.”

I smile, feeling a little intoxicated with him and more than a little pleased with myself, but mostly I’m horny as hell and desperate for release.

After what feels like an hour, we go the remaining half mile to the rest stop and he pulls off the road. I raise my hips slightly and slip my panties off.

“Damn, girl,” he says, driving into the rest area. There’s a long stretch of parking with an outbuilding in the center, picnic tables all along the length of it, and a slight view to the coast and Swan Pointe below.

He chooses the farthest spot and before he even kills the engine, I’ve released my belt, scooted onto my knees, and bent down for his cock again. He groans, his hand flying to the back of my head. He leans the seat all the way back, but it’s a sporty car and even then there’s not room for me to climb on top.

It doesn’t matter. If this is going to work, I need to stay low and out of sight anyway. Right now I just want his cock, and I’m sucking it like there’s no tomorrow.

“Isabella,” he breathes out. “You’re so fucking amazing.” I would smile if my mouth wasn’t full of his cock. I’ve noticed he’s not one to talk dirty during our sexual escapades, so hearing this little bit from him gives me a special thrill.

His hand has already found my breasts, giving them an eager squeeze or two, and is on its way to my crotch.

I spread my knees slightly and his hand finds my mound. I moan with his cock in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the tip then go all the way down the shaft, sucking firmly as I come back up.

He dips his finger into my wetness then goes to my clit, his slick fingers lighting me up.

I put one foot on the floor, allowing my legs to spread wider and he accepts the invitation, plunging two fingers into me.

“Yes,” I mumble, before sliding my mouth back down his shaft. I come back up. “Fuck yes.” And I take him again.

He’s so hard my tongue can feel the vein throbbing along his length. He pumps his fingers in me, the sound of my moisture and his groaning filling the car. He puts a third finger in me and I arch my ass back against him, spreading myself as much as I can in the cramped space and wishing I could open up more.

I take his entire shaft into my mouth and suck hard as I come up, flicking my tongue firmly over the head. I get a taste of pre-cum and that only pushes me closer to the edge. I’m rocking my pussy against him, rubbing my clit against the palm of his hand.

He suddenly starts pumping me harder, banging his palm hard against my clit every time he dives into me. I cry out with pleasure, his swollen dick still in my mouth.

Moaning, I slide up and down his shaft harder and faster, working the head with my tongue, going nearly mad with pleasure as he fucks my pussy with his hand.

The skin of his cock stretches taut. He releases his hot cum in me just as I burst into a mind-blowing orgasm. My channel clamps against his fingers. My swollen clit submits to his pounding. I’m sucking his pulsing cock and swallowing eagerly as he cries out, stifling the loud sound almost immediately.

I thrash against the climax as he continues to clap his palm against me. His cock twitches in my mouth and I suck hard, wanting every last drop. I finally come down from the peak, my body slowing. His cock twitches again and I slowly suck him from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. He grips my shoulder with his free hand, shuddering one last time.

I’m breathing hard and my blood is pounding in my ears as I continue to come down from the high.

My god.

We grow still, panting, my mouth still on him, his fingers still filling me. I give him one last, lingering suck and hear him sigh as I break free. I rest my cheek on his lower stomach and smile. He gives me a heavy-lidded, satisfied smile as he gently pulls his fingers out of me.

“That was fun,” I say, panting.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, agreeing with the obvious.

I grin at him.

“Oh geez!” He pops his head up and looks around.

I start laughing and rearrange so I can settle back into my seat. I glance around too. The rest stop is vacant.

He gives me a devilish grin. “Come ’ere, you.” He leans to me, hooks his hand around the back of my neck, and kisses me until my toes are tingling.

We start to put ourselves back together. “I love this dress you’re wearing, baby.”

I smile broadly, pretty pleased with myself. “Now that we’ve had our appetizers, shall we go have some dinner?”

He smiles at me wickedly.

After taking a few minutes to clean up in the restrooms, we continue on our way. This time, Shane’s passenger is considerably more relaxed and content.

Dinner with Shane is even better than I hoped it would be. Aside from enjoying his company—in fact, I can’t seem to get enough of that—I love being out in the open with him. It’s liberating and thrilling and gives me a little ache in the corner of my heart that we can’t have this all the time.

Suddenly I’m imagining what it would be like to be able to walk hand in hand with him on campus or go to a party with him or, hell, just do
anything
with him. Even shopping for groceries together sounds like a treat.

Shane got us a table next to the window with a view of the ocean. The Net is located right on the coast. Its outdoor patio even sits slightly over the water. We watched the sunset as we ate, and now the sky has darkened completely, leaving the window to reflect the interior of the restaurant back at us.

The waiter comes to clear our plates away—I had coconut shrimp, Shane had lobster—and asks if we’d like to see a dessert menu.

Shane looks to me for guidance and I answer with an eager grin. He laughs. “That’d be a yes,” he says to the waiter.

He leans forward and rests his chin on one palm, smiling at me. I lean forward too, delicately lacing my fingers together. “This was a great idea,” I say. “I love being here with you.”

His smile broadens. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Aren’t you happy?” I tease, still smiling.

“More than I should be,” he says.

The waiter returns with the menus and we sit back.

Shane winks at me, then opens his menu. I stay put, watching him. “I already know I either want the baked Hawaiian or the triple chocolate caramel brownie sundae.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“Want to order both and share them?”

“Okay.”

He snaps the menu shut and returns to smiling at me. I sigh inwardly. We’re almost at the end of our evening. I don’t want it to end.

It’s as we’re eating dessert (we’ve polished off the baked Hawaiian and are on our way to finishing the world’s most decadent brownie) that he says, “So let me ask you a question. As a modern woman, what’s your opinion on the debate about whether or not you can be a feminist and still allow a man to pay for a date?”

My antenna goes up immediately, but I go into my smooth and graceful routine without thinking or effort. “I don’t know that I have an opinion on the matter,” I say easily. I even throw in a smile for good measure.

We could be talking about lollipops, as calm and collected as I am on the outside, but my skin is pricking and I’m feeling that familiar, sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. Is this how it’s going to begin? Now that he knows how deep my pockets are, he wants to dip in and take some and this is his first step?

But I’m looking at him and I don’t want to believe he would. Would he? Sometimes you never know, but... god I really didn’t think he was the type.

“I was reading an article about it the other day,” he continues. “I forget the website. Anyway, it was interesting. One side argues that it’s perfectly acceptable for women to demand both equal rights and chivalry, but others say that in order to truly be equal, chivalry needs to go out the window. They say a man always paying suggests a level of superiority over the woman.”

“That makes a certain kind of sense,” I say.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. Not him.

“What’s your opinion?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Is that how you feel?”

“Well...” I begin slowly, “if a woman feels she needs to pay for... philosophical reasons.”

He smiles. “Ah.
Philosophical
reasons. Was that for my benefit?”

I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or if we’ve just decided I’m paying for this date or what.