Slow Burn (Feverish #4)

by Jade C. Jamison

  Holding out a hand, he said, “You can grab onto me if you want.”

  Oh, he’d like that, wouldn’t he? Maybe that had been his evil plan all along. But, even if she didn’t want to, she was going to have to, except that wasn’t her only problem. She couldn’t see any other way to get over gracefully. Fortunately, after she got her leg over and settled in the seat, she realized no one would be able to see her lacy black panties underneath the skirt, because Brian’s body blocked all view.

  Pressing up against him, though, she knew. This most definitely was his way of reminding her what they’d done last time they’d been together.

  As he started the bike and revved the engine, her mind shifted back to reality. This was real—and even though he was driving slowly, she was a little freaked out. It didn’t help that, as he was maneuvering out of the pick-up area, Sophie spotted a guy wearing a Colorado Rockies baseball cap taking pictures of them with his phone. At first, she wasn’t sure, but as the bike moved forward, the man shifted his phone to stay focused on them, confirming her suspicions.

  Once they were out on the main road, Sophie yelled, “Did you see that?”

  She couldn’t hear Brian’s response over the sound of the motor, but she thought she felt his abdomen move as if he’d said something. He sped up some and Sophie sensed the wind on her knees. She tightened her hold around his torso and closed her eyes. Instead of helping her relax, though, it tensed her up in other ways. Through his t-shirt, she could feel the warmth of his skin and the firmness of his body and, suddenly, she felt protected. Safe. Even though this motorcycle was more dangerous than the metal beast suspended in air that she’d flown in earlier, she felt secure.

  When was the last time she’d ever felt that way? As a kid, maybe, living at home with her daddy as the family protector.

  So she forced herself to relax, resting her helmeted head against his back, holding him tightly but not with a death grip, and allowed that feeling of home to wash over her like a waterfall.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It hadn’t taken Sophie long to figure out Brian’s ruse, but he hated how easily she could forget the spark between them. Had it been just him? Their bodies had seemed made for each other—but she could switch it to business only like snapping her fingers.

  He’d come up with the plan to pick her up on his Harley just that morning, pondering how he could shift her from conspiring to copulating. While he’d grown to appreciate her brain, he couldn’t get her body out of his head—and having her pressed up against him might put her in the proper frame of mind.

  That was the plan, at least.

  He hadn’t considered that she might be wearing a skirt. And, man, what an outfit that was. Holy shit. If that hadn’t been a message to him, he wasn’t sure what was. That tiny red skirt barely covered her ass and showed off every inch of her long, luscious legs. The black heels she wore made her calves appear even more sculpted than usual, and that snug black top hugged her every curve. He noted her hair was still dark, and the way it added color to her cheeks only made her all the more attractive.

  Goddamn, he had to stop thinking about her that way or he wouldn’t be able to get off the bike.

  He’d been planning to take her to his favorite taco place downtown, a trendy spot that made a taco for even the pickiest of eaters, but after seeing her reaction to the bike, he changed his mind. There were several nice hotels around the airport, and he was pretty sure most of them had decent restaurants. And, unlike downtown, there would likely be fewer diners and definitely less chance of being noticed. That guy filming them at DIA was a reminder that he was becoming more recognizable, thanks to Sophie, but that was one guy out of thousands they’d run into in downtown Denver.

  A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a hotel and found a spot. After he shut off the engine, Sophie asked, “This is it?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think about you wearing a skirt. I don’t want your knees getting wind whipped. You have enough made-up reasons to hate my ass. I don’t need to give you another.”

  Sophie was lifting her leg back over the bike. “I’d thank you for being considerate but you clearly weren’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I got a wild hair to ride my bike just before I left my house. There was no way I could have warned you about it ‘cause you were already in the air.”

  As she finished getting off the bike, she lost her balance, so Brian reached out and grabbed her hand. Once she had firm footing again, she snatched her arm out of his grip and said, “Heaven forbid you resist the urge. You know I’m a fashion model, right? So I’m sometimes going to wear things that look good but aren’t appropriate for a motorcycle.”

  “I know that now.” Sophie was fumbling with the strap on the helmet, so he asked, “Want me to help with that?”

  “I’ve got it,” she said, feeling huffy. Her nostrils were flaring, a look he loved on her. And she was right. She managed to get the helmet off by herself.

  So he opened up the storage unit, handed her the purse she’d brought, and placed both helmets inside. Then he tucked the key inside his pocket and held out a hand.

  But she refused to take it.

  Not about to let her get to him, he motioned toward the hotel with his empty hand. “Ladies first.”

  Those high heels seemed slightly wobbly on the asphalt, but he wasn’t going to say a word. Once she got to the concrete sidewalk, her legs were steady, and she walked quickly. Brian had no problems keeping up, but he stayed back just a little. Not only would it give her a little space to cool off, but he could watch her ass in that snug skirt.

  Why the hell did he have it so bad for this woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him?

  He supposed it was par for the course. He’d teased his friends over the years as they’d fallen hard and, after seeing his best friend Clay find the woman of his dreams, he’d realized the hole in his own life. Maybe that was why he’d married Kyle in a drunken stupor. Sure, it had been a fun prank and they could’ve annulled it in a heartbeat, but there was some gnawing at his soul, something inside telling him he was only half the man he could be.

  The right woman could make him whole.

  Kyle, unfortunately, was meant to be a friend, not a soulmate. She’d already found her life partner while Brian was still searching—and something inside told him Sophie might be that woman.

  She seemed to have other ideas, though—and Brian didn’t know that he had the ability to change her mind.

  So, for now, he’d enjoy her as much as she’d let him, and Brian would figure out a way to heal his heart later on.

  Today, this moment, he had his cocky rock star game face on, and he stepped in front of her to hold the door open before leading her to what was bound to be a five-star restaurant in this overpriced luxury hotel and hoped his face wasn’t giving away his heart.

  * * *

  “So I’ve got a plan,” Sophie said, leaning over the table excited. It had taken her a little plotting, but she’d come up with the perfect idea to skyrocket both their careers. “I might have told you I’m more in demand nowadays. My agent has been fielding better offers and not only have I been requested for more gigs but my agent has even started turning some down that she says are beneath me or not worth my time. Which is crazy.”

  The waitress stopped by the table, dropping off their drinks. Brian said, “Thanks,” and then grabbed a packet of sugar, ripping it open and pouring it into his glass of iced tea. “That’s great.”

  “It is. And I know the press has been pretty asinine, but I wanted to acknowledge your part in all this—and thank you for your willingness to take control of the spin. I know we can work it to our advantage—and I think I’ve finally figured out how.” She picked up her glass of tea, unsweetened, of course, and took a sip.

  “That’s why I’m here. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “I’ll be on the runway during Fashion Week. I’ve already checked your tour schedule and it falls in a three-
day window you’ve got free.”

  “Stalk much?”

  “Please.” Letting out a soft breath and avoiding the eye roll she really wanted to do, she then continued. “I’ve never done Fashion Week before, but it’s a huge deal—it draws in celebrities, wannabes, trophy wives, you name it, and the press, of course. If you can get front row tickets, imagine what we could do.”

  “Just one question: why the hell would I be at a runway show?”

  “Maybe you have a thing for models.”

  Brian let out a soft chuckle. “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe you and I hate each other so much that you wanted to make me uncomfortable in a public way, disrupting my first time walking that runway.”

  “I don’t like that.”

  “But it could work.”

  “You just love making me look like an asshole.”

  “Might I remind you that you do a pretty good job yourself?” Holy cow. The way his brow furrowed reminded her of the look on his face when they’d had sex. Smoldering. Angry. Masculine. Aggressive.

  And it was throwing her off her game.

  As much as she loved engaging in snippy banter with this man, she wanted to solve their mutual problem. Pissing him off wouldn’t help.

  When he didn’t answer, she said, “Fine. Then what are some of your interests that we could match up to that?” Picking up her glass, she smirked. “Aside from women watching, of course.”

  “I’m beginning to think you just want another opportunity to make me look bad. You get off on it somehow.”

  “No, Brian.” Setting down the glass, she reached across the table and touched his hand. “I swear that’s not my intent. My first stunt was, maybe, uncalled for—but it’s changed my life in ways I can’t even express, and I’m truly grateful to you for being part of that.”

  While her words were sincere, she could see through his azure eyes that he had a lot of doubts—and she supposed she’d earned his skepticism. But when he looked at her tiny hand touching his big tattooed one, he flipped his hand over and took hers into his. Suddenly, her heart started beating in her chest like a tribal drum—primal, urgent, causing her blood to race through her veins. Forcing herself to swallow, she tried to assess what this meant, knowing that deep down she wanted this man—not just between her legs but more—and he was the exact kind of man she shouldn’t have. Already she was pushing it with the public feud, but at least she had a just cause. Cavorting with a rock star, though…she’d seen how low class and trashy it made so many female celebrities appear. She didn’t want what little credibility she had devalued by this man. As much as her heart was beginning to want him (her body already having made that decision), her head told her it was a horrible idea.

  Fortunately, though, instead of caressing her hand like a lover might, he shook it.

  Just like a business partner.

  And that was all they were, wasn’t it?

  She hoped her voice didn’t betray all those damned emotions as she joined the handshake and then withdrew her arm. “Thank you for trusting me—and I apologize for making it a commodity that I’ve had to earn. I suppose I could make it easier by being less snarky.” His eyes were twinkling, forming tiny crows’ feet at the corners. Damn, he was gorgeous and her attraction to him distracting. There was but one way to remedy that, and it was by plotting. “But back to what I was saying. If we could find a good reason for you to be there…”

  “I have an idea,” he said, sitting up straighter. “What if one of the band’s girls was there and dragged her man and me to it?”

  “Go on.”

  “All three of my bandmates are attached. Clay and Emily have been dating for the longest. Sam and Grace got married, and I think Dane and Charlie are engaged. Maybe. Don’t quote me on that. But they’re all in committed relationships. I think out of the three, either Emily or Grace would be more believable to see at a fashion show. Well, and Grace is kind of religious, so maybe Emily would be the best fit. Do you want me to ask her? Would you be able to get us front-row tickets?”

  “I wish. I don’t have that kind of clout. I’m not even sure how it works. Usually, it’s the rich or famous—or both—who score those seats. And that’s why I thought of it. You guys might be able to do it.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me, but I’m not sure about that. Still, it’s worth a try, I guess. So let’s say we do this. Let’s say I get a front-row seat. Then what happens?”

  “That’s where the fun begins. But I think we need to agree on what that looks like.”

  Fortunately, her flight out was several hours away, so they’d have plenty of time to plot out their scheme to the nth degree.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brian was questioning his good fortune, but he was keeping his fucking mouth shut. After all, they’d been here before…going up in an elevator, naughty thoughts abounding. In fact, this was their third time.

  But maybe the third time would be the charm.

  The food had been fantastic. Her company, unexpectedly enjoyable by the time all was said and done.

  Their attraction for each other? Undeniable. Unfathomable.

  Unrelenting.

  He’d never be able to walk away from her if he couldn’t stop fantasizing about her. But that wasn’t all. She was smart as hell and charming when she wanted to be. On top of all that, she seemed to genuinely care about him. At first, he’d thought this was all just a combination money and attention grab—but she’d honestly worked through it all and wanted LFS to benefit as much as she herself would. In fact, according to her plan, she was going to wind up looking worse than he did when all was said and done, like a real crazy woman.

  Much as he’d envisioned her a couple of months back.

  But she was convinced it would work—and she’d persuaded him to see things the way she did.

  Throughout that process, she’d made him want her all over again.

  They had an hour. One hour. And they’d mutually agreed that fucking like rabbits again would get it out of their systems, allow them to work as adversaries rather than desirous lovers.

  Unfortunately, Brian didn’t think this would get her out of his system. Not by a long shot. But there was no way he wasn’t going to take an opportunity to taste her sweet flesh once again, to make her call out his name in ecstasy. And that was his only goal this time—to hear his name on her lips, not saying it with spite but screaming it in pleasure. If he could accomplish that…well, then maybe he could persuade her into seeing them as something more.

  Because right now he was nothing other than a means to a goal.

  As he’d handed the clerk his credit card, he’d looked back at Sophie once more. She’d been looking toward the glass at the front of the hotel into the parking lot towards the stunning view of the Rockies and turned just in time to see him admiring her breathtaking beauty. “I promise you won’t miss your flight.”

  “I trust you.”

  Those three words had nearly knocked him over—so he’d been quiet as a mouse on the elevator ride up. Two women, twenty-something, boarded the elevator at the same time, standing in front of them, and Sophie slipped her hand in Brian’s. Was she being possessive or anticipating their time together? He had no real way of knowing.

  But he fucking loved it…and his heart swelled in his chest, reminding him of what they could have.

  If only it could work.

  Once they were off the elevator, they walked quickly down the hall toward the room. Later on when he recalled it, Brian thought it probably would have looked comical to someone observing them, because they weren’t quite running but they most certainly weren’t walking—and the shoes they wore weren’t made for that. He had to let go of her hand to take the room card out of the paper sleeve they’d given him, and when the little light stayed red at first, Brian was growing more frustrated, but the second time, it worked, and the clicking sound of the bolt unlocking was music to his ears.

  As soon as he closed the door behind t
hem, he took her face in his hands and kissed her like he might never again be able to.

  She responded in kind, and it took everything in him to not immediately grow hard as a rock. Her tongue clashed with his not unlike their words earlier that afternoon. But, for the first time in a very long time, Brian felt a sense of urgency, almost like he had something to prove. Not anything superficial or stupid, but he wondered if there was a way he could communicate to her how he felt about her through touch, because she hadn’t responded to his words, his eyes, or anything else. Deep down, Brian felt like this was his last shot.

  And so, even though they felt desperate anyway, there was far more to it.

  Instead of ripping her blouse off, he kissed her neck—slowly, one kiss at a time. And when she began unbuttoning his jeans, he let her, but he was hoping she would be willing to take her time. He could encourage that. Perhaps if he savored her, gently showed her how he felt, then maybe she would see that he was more than just the asshole rock star she’d built him up to be in her mind.

  He had to try.

  So he continued kissing her neck with tiny little nibbles, small pecks at her flesh, just enough to send shivers throughout her body. The way her breathing quickened and the way her fingers paused at the button on his jeans told him everything he needed to know. She was distracted, which meant he had her attention.

  Now that she was warm, her senses aroused, adjusted to the slower pace, it was time for Brian to tease her even more. Meeting her lips with his again, he moved his hand to the bottom of her blouse and let his fingers just tickle the flesh beneath. The way she drew in a tiny breath against his mouth didn’t escape his attention. Letting his fingers continue to brush her skin, he slid his hand underneath, up her belly until he reached the bottom of her bra. As he began moving his hand over the lacy fabric, he sucked on her lower lip, and she let out a tiny sound.

  It was working.

  When their tongues met again, this time it was deliberate and as his fingers gently drifted up the cup of her bra, he brought his other hand up her back. As he continued slowly kissing her, his hands worked their magic. Both of them wouldn’t fit under her blouse with room to move, though, so he lifted it up enough to undo the clasp at the back of her bra. Then he slid a finger underneath the elastic before bringing it around to the front. Once there, he moved it up the curvature of her breast until he felt the pebbly areola. The way she sucked in another breath told him she was responding to his careful attention.