The Hotter You Burn (27 page)

Miracle of miracles, Harlow had made a pallet next to his with zero prompting from him. They faced each other, were basically curled into each other, and he'd never been so pleased with so little. But he wanted more. He
needed
it. As close as she was to him, so close he breathed in the soft fragrance of her skin every time he inhaled, his hands fisted because he remembered all too well the silky feel of her hair tangled between his fingers.

He missed her so bad he hurt physically.

Unwilling to leave her this morning, he'd blown off work. Well, his own. He'd accompanied Harlow, stepping in and helping her with chores. He'd teased her and laughed with her, even scolded her. She worked too long and too hard, refusing to slow down, and he'd quickly gotten tired of people coming to the inn just to humiliate her. And since he'd taken over most of the rooms, the would-be patrons had holed up in the lobby and dining hall and Carol had demanded Harlow clean both.

His temper had nearly snapped. Would have, if Harlow hadn't stormed to the register where Carol was helping an out-of-town guest, yelling, “Enough! I'll clean, but I won't entertain. Not without a significant pay increase. So unless you want to triple my check or fire me, I'm done for the day!”

Her confidence had grown by leaps and bounds, and Beck liked to think he'd had a positive influence on her. While Carol wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, she recognized a moneymaker when she saw one, and she hadn't fired Harlow. The girl brought in too much business with or without the personal cleaning entertainment.

And Harlow, well, despite the setbacks, she truly seemed to enjoy her life. As she'd worked today, she'd teased him right back, and he cherished every second.

“You were cuddled when you were sick, I'm assuming,” he said now.

“Yes,” she said. “My mom was the best. She loved me, and I was never in doubt of that.”

“Did she know you were the town bully?” he asked carefully, not wanting to raise her hackles.

“Yeah. My dad knew, too, and he'd yell at me for it anytime a teacher or parent would complain, but that would only make me lash out worse.”

“He was a hypocrite.”

“Yes, but I thought his attention, any attention, was better than the times he ignored me.”

Poor Harlow. She'd been adrift, conflicted and in turmoil. Beck knew the feelings well. He'd felt them every time his dad had dropped him off at one of his aunt's houses, saying he'd call, but never calling, saying he'd be back soon, but never showing up. Meanwhile, his uncles had enjoyed playing ball with his cousins.

“Even though my dad was a deadbeat, I loved him almost as much as I hated him,” he said. “I always hoped the guy would change his mind about giving me up and rescue me from the system. At least, I hoped the first year...a little the second...but by the third I knew the truth. I would never see my father again.”

Harlow patted his hand, her gaze holding him captive, what should have been a gesture of comfort sending pulses of pleasure along his already-sensitized nerve endings. His entire body vibrated with need.

“I hate what you went through,” she said, “but I love that you understand me.”

“Trust me, baby, I understand.” And he did. He enjoyed sharing his past with her, which surprised him, but he also enjoyed her empathy, touched by how much she actually cared. It was something he wasn't used to getting from anyone other than Jase and West, but it was something he craved almost as much as her luscious little body.

His fingertip grazed her palm, and she sucked in a breath. “Beck...” Need drenched her voice, reminding him of all the other times she'd whispered his name, breathed it straight into his ear, shouted it. If she scooted closer, or, hell, if she so much as drew in a shaky breath, he would know all the waiting had agonized her, too. He would be on her in a blink—

She scooted closer.

“Harlow.” He swooped in, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, tasting, owning—being owned. His control burned out, and as she clung to him, he rolled her to her back, pinning her down with his weight.

He'd been starved for her and wanted his hands everywhere at once. He cupped her breasts first, kneaded the plump flesh and ghosted his thumbs over the distended peaks of her nipples. “Missed these perfect little beauties.”

Moaning, she raked her nails along his scalp. “Feels so good, Beck.”

He stroked his way to her ass, cupping her there, jerking her against his erection. The friction maddened him. “I'm going to take you hard, baby. It's been too long.”

“Yes...yes...”

He yanked off her shirt, then his own. A single tug broke the front clasp of her bra. He dived back down for another soul-burning kiss—but the cool air must have roused her from the passionate frenzy because she stiffened.

“Wait. What are we doing?” She rolled away from him, panting. “We can't have sex. Not yet.”

He swallowed a roar. For a while, only the sound of their breathing could be heard, but as time passed at a crawl, the intense ache between his legs gradually faded.

The one in his chest did not.

He could not resist her, and yet she seemed to have no trouble resisting him. No relationship could survive such an unsteady foundation.

Once again, the future did not look bright.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

D
OTTIE
 
CAME
 
KNOCKING
 
on Harlow's door bright and early the next morning, offering to give her the entire weekend off.

“Why?” she asked, hearing Beck rustle around behind her. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the bathroom door closed with a soft snicker.

Something was wrong with him. He'd tossed and turned all night and snapped at her when she'd wished him a good morning. “Well, tomorrow no extra services will be offered so that the staff can attend the Berryween Festival. I'm going as a toddler with a tiara. Basically I'll be wearing a formal gown and throwing lots of fits. How about you?”

“Oh, uh, I'm not sure I'm going.” And she wouldn't pout about it. First she hadn't had the money to waste on a costume, and now it was too late to buy one, everything sold out. “But why give me today off?”

“My way of saying thank you for giving me private time with Daniel.”

“Oh.”
Oh!
“Did something happen?”

A blush spilled over the girl's cheeks. “No, nothing like that, but we talked and it was awesome, and he's still here so I get another chance and I've never been so excited.” Dottie threw her arms around Harlow's neck and hugged her. “Thank you,” she said, and skipped away.

As the shower started up in the bathroom, Harlow's happy smile faded. Her body ached so badly, had been on fire since Beck had reentered her life, but last night had taken her to a new level of torment. She'd thrown herself at him, thinking to hell with her plan to get to know each other better. He'd kissed her with such hunger, and she'd come close to begging him to take her.

Of course, that's when her fears had peeked out of the mire, and she'd ruined everything. The sooner she slept with him, the sooner their relationship focused on sex rather than intimacy. Their late-night chats would end. The quiet moments of teasing and learning—the moments she craved with every fiber of her being—would be gone forever.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he wore a white T-shirt and dark ripped jeans. He looked so young and beautiful, a model fresh off the runway.

“I'm happy to report I have the next two days off,” she said, toying with the hem of her shirt.

He ran a towel through his hair, his gaze landing anywhere but on her. “I heard.”

Nervousness mule-kicked her stomach. He hadn't been this standoffish since they'd called off their breakup. “You've been spending more and more time here, helping me clean rooms—” a fact that still thrilled her “—so why don't we go to your office this morning? You can get caught up and I can finish my sketches.”

Still he didn't face her. “Good idea.”

“Afterward, I'll have to go to Brook Lynn and Jessie Kay's house to finally paint the mural I owe them.”

“Not a problem.”

Short and sweet answers were not his style, and it made her even more nervous. She hesitated for a moment. “Tomorrow is the Berryween Festival. Would you like to... I don't know...go with me, even though I don't have a costume?”

“Sure.” He sat at the edge of the bed and pulled on his shoes.

How enthusiastic he
hadn't
sounded.

She showered and, wanting to look her best, dressed in one of the summer dresses Beck had returned to her. The ice-blue beauty with a deep V-neck and flirty skirt. She forwent a sweater, despite the cooler temperature, no longer concerned by her scars. She was what she was, and Beck liked her—but he didn't give her the usual heated once-over, didn't speak to her as he escorted her to the office, and it made her nervous. He didn't even speak to her as he worked or afterward when he drove her to Brook Lynn's house.

“What's wrong?” Brook Lynn asked when she entered.

At last Beck focused on her, watching her intently, waiting for her answer.

She merely offered a half smile.
Won't lie, but won't admit the truth, either.
“Did you get all the paints and brushes from the RV?”

“I sure did. Well, Jase did,” Brook Lynn said. “We have a system. I want, he procures.”

Jase, who sat on the couch in the living room, flipping channels on the TV, nodded. “Through any means necessary.”

Brook Lynn beamed. “I'm awarding you ten points for giving the perfect response.”

“I think I deserve twenty,” he said.

“Then I'll have to deduct five for silly thinking.”

He snorted.

“What does he do with these points?” Harlow asked in a whisper.

The feisty blonde waggled her brows, and something deep inside Harlow contracted. Sex. Of course. But that kind of game was okay for them to play, because Jase loved Brook Lynn with all his heart, and he wouldn't allow the romance to die just because they were intimate.

“Come on. I'll show you where I want the mural.” Brook Lynn led her into the hallway, where the borders had already been taped and the floor covered in plastic. “
Now
you can tell me what's wrong,” she said, moving in front of Harlow.

“Well, for starters, I'm a mess,” she admitted softly. “I told Beck I wanted to stop having sex while we got to know each other better, but everything I learn makes me like and admire him more, and I love him so much but don't want to tell him and scare him away, and I don't want to lose him, but what if I sleep with him like I really want to do, I mean really, really want to do, but I lose him anyway because we stop snuggling and talking, and all we can think about is sex, and what if—”

Brook Lynn slapped her hand over Harlow's mouth. “Oh, wow. I would introduce you to Run On Sentence, but I see you've already met.” Her hand fell away and she said, “That guy is crazy about you. But, no, you can't control what he does, feels or thinks. You can only control what you do. If you really love him that much, don't let fear make your choices for you. It's only ruining the time you have together. Start actually living. Otherwise you'll look back and wonder why you didn't enjoy the time you
did
have together. And physical intimacy doesn't preclude emotional intimacy. Not when true, heartfelt emotions are involved. Have a little trust in the man. And yourself! You won't let the snuggles and talking end.”

“That's actually a good point.”

“Duh. That's the only kind I have.”

Bottom line: Harlow had to stop making her choices based on how she assumed Beck would react and start making the right choices for herself.

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “All right. I'm going to go for it, and if everything blows up in my face, I'll blame you and seek revenge. Now get lost so I can paint your mural and then seduce the man of my dreams.”

* * *

B
ECK
 
SHIFTED
 
ON
 
the couch for the thousandth time. Harlow had been painting for several hours, and he missed her the way he would have missed a hand, as if she had somehow become a necessary part of him. Maybe she had. Hell, she definitely had.

“Women adore romance,” Brook Lynn suddenly announced. She and Jase were on the couch as well, cuddling together in the far corner, their dog asleep in Brook Lynn's lap. “Did you know that, Beck?”

“Since I'm pretty sure I've dated more of them than you have, I'm going to go with
yes
.”

“You haven't dated and you haven't romanced. You've screwed. Do you get what I'm saying?” she asked.

“No, but I'm sure you'll tell me.”

“Being romantic means cuddling. Sharing secrets.”

He looked to Jase and sighed. “Where is she going with this?”

His friend shrugged. “Got me. I'm not a detective for the mysteries of women. I'd have more luck as a unicorn wrangler.”

Brook Lynn slapped Beck's shoulder. “Just stop and think. You're known as the one-and-done man. Now, while you aren't sleeping with your girlfriend, you're romancing her. But what happens when you start sleeping with her again? The romance goes away. At least in her mind, it does.”

Well, well. Harlow had clearly confided in Brook Lynn. He liked that she had a friend, but did not like the fact that she hadn't told
him
. Instead, she'd pulled away last night, choosing to be alone with her fears while stoking
his
.

And okay. He hadn't confided his fears to her, either. Instead, he'd internalized his hurt and snapped answers at her all day.

“Do you still feel like you're being kept in a cage?” Brook Lynn asked.

“Cage?” Jase asked.

“Still harping on the cage.” Beck heaved a weighty sigh. “Perhaps it's time for you to get over it, considering you were never actually invited inside it.”

“Who's in a cage?” Jase demanded.

“Besides, maybe I've been a good little schoolboy,” Beck said, ignoring his friend. “Maybe I've learned a lesson.”

“What? That feelings aren't so bad?” she asked.

“Hardly. If I'm going to feel, I have to make damn sure she does, too.”

Brook Lynn leveled an evil grin on him. “I'm looking forward to the day you realize your cage has been filled with all of us all along.” Before he could reply, she added, “Now I'm changing the subject, and you're letting me. Are you going to the Berryween Festival tomorrow?”

“Yes.” His next official date with Harlow.

“Jase and I are going as Adam and Eve. What about you and Harlow?”

“We're going as Beck and Harlow.”

Brook Lynn snorted. “Be serious.”

“I am.”

Horrified, she said, “Wow. I know you guys are new to town and everything, and you have no idea how things actually work around here, but seriously. I had no idea you sucked such giant donkey balls.”

Beck glared at his friend. “Are you going to let your woman talk to me that way?”

“Yes” was Jase's only response.

Laughing, Brook Lynn kissed the guy on the mouth. “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

Beck's chest constricted with some unnameable emotion. Disgust—had to be disgust. “Let's shut up and watch TV.”

“Let's!” With a bubbliness that irritated him, Brook Lynn clapped and said, “I've been storing episodes of
The Walking Dead
. We can marathon, and I can teach you how to survive the coming apocalypse.”

* * *

A
NOTHER
 
FEW
 
HOURS
passed before Harlow finally rounded the corner. Beck had to shake his head to clear away images of blood and gore from the TV show, and the clenching he'd experienced earlier returned, only worse, his heart curling up like a fist and banging against his ribs. Definitely wasn't because of disgust. Splatters of paint marred Harlow's lashes, arms and clothes, her skin flushed a lovely rose.

Her gaze skittered to him, an almost shy smile lighting her face.

“All done?” he asked.

“I am. Want to see?”

“Me! Me!” Brook Lynn jumped to her feet and clapped, waking the dog. Sparkles barked as his mommy rushed forward and grabbed Harlow's wrist. “I do!”

“The paint is still wet. You can look, but don't touch,” Harlow said.

Currently the story of my life.

Brook Lynn raced past her and into the hall, where she squealed like a little girl who'd just found the present of her dreams underneath the Christmas tree.

Harlow, who'd remained in place, released a relieved breath, twin spots of pleasure darkening her cheeks. “I wasn't sure she'd like it. I mean, I know she asked for zombies on the wall, but I thought she'd realize her horrible mistake when she spotted all the blood and guts.”

Jase smiled, his affection clear. “My girl is weird.”

“You're just jealous I have a plan for the zombie apocalypse and you don't,” Brook Lynn called. “Now I have the perfect wall for practicing expert slaying techniques.”

“You're right, angel. I'm jealous,” Jase called back. “Twenty more points?”

Harlow met Beck's gaze as he straightened. Her pupils expanded as she took a step toward him
.
“You ready to go?”

He held out his hand and, without a moment's hesitation, she twined her fingers with his.

He nodded to his friend on the way out, then helped Harlow into the car. Night had long since fallen, the moon half-hidden by clouds with no stars in sight.

Trees whizzed by as he sped down the road. “We need to talk, baby.”

“I know,” she replied softly.

“We haven't been honest with each other, and it's putting a strain on us both.”

“You've lied to me?”

“No. Absolutely not.” He frowned at her. “You should know better.”

Her shoulders hunched in, and she rubbed at her face. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

Better. “If this relationship is going to work, you have to tell me when you're scared about something. And I have to tell you the same. We have to rely on each other, Harlow, not on outside parties.”

“Yes. You're right, again.” She peered down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to be with you last night, so badly I nearly couldn't breathe.”

“Why did you stop me?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“I was so afraid we'd have sex and the talking and sharing I've come to love so much would stop. And I worry the lack will be the death knell of our relationship.”

“In case you haven't noticed,” he said, tenderness welling in his chest, “I've enjoyed the talking and sharing, too.”

“Really?”

“Really. You are ridiculous and weird, frustrating and challenging.”