Slow Burn

by Jamie Denton

  Maggie wreathed her arms around Cale’s waist, certain she’d never heard sweeter words. “Now you’re talkin’,” she murmured against his mouth, then parted her lips and welcomed him inside.

  Acute awareness powered her senses. The colors brighter, the scents more bold, as if she’d been struck by a surge of electrical intensity increasing the sexual energy around them. The warm and sweet taste of his mouth became hotter and more demanding as his tongue mated with hers. The gentle glide of his hands into her hair and down her back turned into an insistent quest to bring their bodies closer together.

  The warmth of the sun beat down on them through the latticed roof of the patio, adding even more heat to her already simmering body. She clung to him. Tasting. Touching. Wanting more. Needing him.

  Abruptly, he ended the kiss and lifted his head, his half-lidded gaze filled with sensual intent. “Not here,” he said, his voice ragged.

  The protest hovering on her lips stilled as the sound of voices drifted over the back fence. “Where?” she asked, not embarrassed in the least by the note of desperation in her voice.

  He snagged her hand and pulled her into the house, heading straight for the downstairs guest room. The cats lay twisted together on the full-sized bed beneath the rays of sunlight streaming through the windows, oblivious to the intrusion.

  With her hand still clasped in his, he approached the bed and nudged the mattress with his knee. “Scoot,” he ordered gently, ushering the lounging felines from the bed. The second the two black-and-white balls of fluff bolted from the room, Cale kicked the door shut with his foot and dragged her back into his arms. “No more interruptions,” he said as his mouth sought hers.

  The need to touch him, to explore that tempting landscape she’d fantasized about overcame her. With a gentle tug, she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, then slipped her good hand beneath the material.

  Encouraged by his low moan of pleasure, she smoothed her palm over his belly, loving the way the taut muscle danced in response to her touch. She continued upward to curl her fingers in the light furring of hair on his chest, cataloging and savoring the variety of textures of his body.

  He broke their kiss long enough to yank his shirt over his head and toss it aside to land in a heap somewhere behind her. A hushed gasp of delight escaped her at the sight of all that warm male flesh exposed just for her pleasure. He reached for her, but she urged him back against the wall, then plastered her body against his.

  She nipped and soothed, tasted and laved his tightened nipples, then slowly worked her way down to his washboard-lean belly. She breathed in the tantalizing scent of musk and man, then blew a steady stream of breath where her tongue had been, watching in amazement when gooseflesh puckered beneath the moistened skin.

  His large warm hands settled on her shoulders. As she wound a path with her tongue down his remarkable torso, she felt the press of his fingers in her flesh. Whether to hold her back or urge her downward, she couldn’t be sure, but when her tongue whorled the rim of his navel, she heard his sharp intake of breath followed by the thump of his head against the wall.

  Button by button, she unfastened the fly of his jeans, then boldly slipped her hand beneath the band of his black boxer-briefs. With him hot and heavy in her hand, she struggled to shed the remainder of his clothes, but the cast impeded her progress. She let out a frustrated whimper of need. If she didn’t taste him soon, if she didn’t feel the length of him against her tongue now, she’d surely go insane.

  Cale nearly came out of his skin at the sound of Maggie’s soft peal as she attempted to free him from the strict confines of his briefs. The weight of her cast pressed insistently against his side, so he let go of her shoulders long enough to shove the remaining garments past his hips. Warm breath brushed against his erection as she yanked the jeans down his legs and shoved them aside.

  “You are so beautiful.” The awe in her voice as she took him in her hand sent him teetering close to the brink. When she teased the tip of his erection with her thumbnail, seductively rubbing it across and back, his knees threatened to buckle.

  The slow burn of desire made him a willing casualty to her complete and utter control over him. She settled to her knees in front of him, and his breath stilled. The first feathery brush of her moist tongue against his penis nearly stopped his heart. When she gently drew him into her mouth, it was such an incredible combination of excruciating pain and wild pleasure, he knew he’d died, zipped past purgatory and shot straight into heaven.

  A part of him wanted to stop the exquisite torture, to guide her body up his and shed the clothes still hiding her lush curves from his view. The part of him dangerously close to losing control wouldn’t dream of putting an end to her selfless lovemaking.

  Nothing else mattered now except the moist warmth of her mouth teasing him, loving him, pushing him that much closer to fulfillment. His body tensed and shook. Blood roared in his ears and rushed through his veins. Breathing took a back seat to the primal need for the ultimate satisfaction.

  Still, he tried to rein in the need clawing at his belly, to pull back from her before he came. Heaven help him, she pushed his hands away and took him deeper inside.

  He closed his eyes, and the world exploded.

  His first cognizant thought was the sound of his own ragged breathing, followed by the dangerously erratic beat of his heart. Slowly, he opened his eyes as Maggie kissed and laved first his belly, then his chest and finally wound her arms around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers for a deep, tongue-tangling kiss.

  He slipped his hands over her denim-clad rump and lifted her, giving her no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist and hold on tight. Even through the material separating them, her nipples beaded and rubbed enticingly against his chest. But he wanted so much more. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him, his body buried within hers.

  With her still in his arms, he carried her to the bed where he planned to love her for the rest of the day.

  Maggie’s mind whirled and her body swam in a pool of desire as Cale set her to her feet, then gently lifted her arms and carefully removed her top. The ugly white cotton bra joined the shirt on the floor near their feet. She toed off her sneakers while he made short work of her jeans, sweeping them down her legs along with the plain white panties. He shoved them aside, then urged her to lift her foot so he could remove the socks covering her feet.

  She wanted him desperately.

  She needed him inside her.

  The tempo of her pulse accelerated when his work-roughened hands slid over her calves and up the back of her thighs to her bottom. She looked down at him still crouched in front of her while his hands gently massaged her backside, the tips of his long fingers inching slowly toward her dewy center.

  His breath drifted warm and sweet across moist curls, and she braced herself for the onslaught of passion his intimate kiss would bring. Yet, he hesitated, although his touch filled her with a delicious hunger.

  He placed a tender kiss on her abdomen and urged her thighs to part. Her entire body trembled in anticipation and she gripped the round, low post of the bed for support, else she’d end up in a puddle at his feet.

  She was powerless to prevent the whimper from escaping; sheer pleasure rolled through her body in gentle waves as his fingers found the core of her. Her whimper coalesced into a deep moan when he slid his fingers inside her, then slowly retreated to smooth the heated moisture with deliberate measured strokes over her feminine folds. Her body couldn’t be any more primed, but that didn’t stop him from continuing the sensual, intimate exploration designed to triple the need already stringing her body tight.

  His mouth brushed over her curls and she cried out in frustration when he failed to kiss her where she needed to feel the heat of his mouth the most. His low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Don’t be so impatient, sweet. We have all day and all night.”

  Her body flexed around his fingers at the rich, seductive soun
d of his velvety-smooth voice. “I want you inside me,” she whispered. “I need you.”

  Carefully, he stood and gathered her in his arms. “I…I need you, too.”

  Her heart gave a sharp tug at the unabashed affection shining in his gorgeous blue eyes. In that very instant she knew they were no longer thinking about physical needs and wants, and although he hadn’t said the words, she understood the force guiding them labored on another level entirely. A deeper, emotional one where walking away with her heart intact would take more courage than facing an unknown past and an uncertain future.

  But she was here, now, in the present. A present that included Cale because no matter how she tried, she could no longer imagine life without him by her side.

  “Make love to me, Cale.” Her voice cracked with powerful feelings that she suddenly had no desire to fight. She welcomed the warmth filling her heart and accepted the tenderness banked in his eyes for the simple reason that this very moment in time, with his arms wrapped around her, was all that really mattered.

  He answered her demand by lifting her in his arms and following her down onto the mattress. Lovingly, he smoothed the hair from her face, then dipped his head to capture her mouth in a kiss so hot and wet her toes curled.

  Delicious sensation zapped her nerve endings as his hands explored every contour of her body. The red-hot haze ignited into a fierce inferno, the flames licking her body when he palmed her breast then flicked his tongue over her taut nipple. He pulled the rosy tip into his mouth and her hips rocked in response to the need simmering in her belly.

  His hand slid along her rib cage, over her abdomen and finally, down between her thighs. She opened for him, trusting him to care for her, to give her what her body craved so desperately. Using his fingers, he strummed her body as if he held the finest instrument in his hands. He guided her to that place where light exploded and sensation traveled through her veins at warp speed. She came hard, her back arching off the bed, her hips seeking an even more intimate contact as her body clenched around his fingers.

  He leaned over her as she rode the glorious shockwaves of pleasure. He never allowed her body to cool, but instead pushed her toward the edge again. Tension built with rapid insistence and the muscles in her stomach tightened.

  “Look at me,” he insisted roughly. “I want to see your eyes this time when you come.”

  She lifted her gaze to his as a second orgasm tore through her body, making her cry out from sheer bliss.

  He emitted a low growl of satisfaction. “An opal.”

  “Hmm?” she murmured. She hoped he wasn’t looking for a more verbal response, since an incoherent groan was about all she had the strength to manage.

  He slid over her, settled his body between her thighs and entered her. She lifted her hips to meet his, pulling the long, hot length of him deep inside her body, and moaned as he filled her.

  His hips rocked against hers, burying himself inside her. “Your eyes,” he said, his voice strained. He rose above her, then took hold of her left leg and settled the quivering limb over his strong bicep. He rocked against her again, driving deeper still, heightening her senses beyond anything she ever imagined.

  “When you come, the color of your eyes reminds me of an opal.”

  Words escaped her as her concentration centered on the build-up of pressure and pleasure. Her body tightened around his thick shaft and she struggled for breath. She felt wild, primal and so hot she feared she’d spontaneously combust as he thrust into her again and again, harder and deeper with each loving stroke of his body.

  Tension built. Muscles strained. Bodies melded into one until she lost the sensation of where he ended and she began. Together they approached the precipice of satisfaction, falling together in complete and honest bliss, sated by the beauty of opening not just their bodies, but their hearts, as well.

  She had no idea how much time had passed, but the sun was casting long shadows over the bedroom walls. He held her against his side, his fingers making lazy circles on her hip.

  “Cale?”

  “Hmm,” he answered drowsily.

  She snuggled closer and draped her leg over his thighs. With her head nestled against his chest, she closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet, musky scent of their lovemaking.

  “Wow,” she whispered, seconds before she fell into a contented slumber.

  12

  HER FOOTSTEPS were as silent as snowfall on the ancient stone steps leading to her special place. The old abandoned cottage was her safe haven, away from spiteful laughter and hurtful taunts. A place where she could create a world in which she always belonged.

  She’d heard their whispers and had felt the sting of sudden silence whenever she’d walked by them. For weeks she’d even lied to herself, telling herself it didn’t matter what they thought of her.

  She understood in the larger scheme that their acceptance shouldn’t make a difference. Except, the awful gossip they whispered about her hurt. She wasn’t one of them, and they made sure she never forgot for a second her father had bought and paid her way into their elite society.

  Here, in the quiet, dusty rooms of the long-forgotten cottage on the grounds of the centuries-old converted abbey, she’d found a sense of peace. A place that belonged just to her and anywhere her imagination took her.

  She set her book bag on the dusty stone floor. The old wood chair groaned in protest as she situated herself at the plain oak table she’d set up in front of the window so she’d have plenty of light to work. The chair creaked again and she made a note to sneak some wood oil from the maintenance room for the chair. A lamp would be nice, she thought, but the cottage had never been converted to electricity.

  She shivered from the cold and damp, tugged her heavy sweater tighter around her and glanced longingly at the stone fireplace in the wall behind her. She imagined a fire blazing in the hearth, a thick oval rug covering the cold floor. Maybe even a cup of steaming cocoa at her elbow and a lazy cat curled on the wide ledge of the window. Extravagances she couldn’t afford herself, in case someone discovered her safe haven.

  She reached into the canvas book bag for her special binder, a plain denim-blue-covered notebook where she allowed herself to escape creatively at every opportunity. After opening the binder, she dug into her bag again for a pen. Cool, soft silk teased her fingertips. She reached deeper, found the square of fabric and retrieved the red silk handkerchief from the bag. As was her habit, she lifted the frayed material to her nose and breathed in the faint, lingering scent of a time filled with happier memories.

  She gasped as the hankie slipped from her fingers, fluttering slowly to the floor as if it were a feather floating on a gentle breeze.

  The monogrammed V caught her attention and she stared at it for a moment as an old ache filled her heart. With a determined sigh she reached for the handkerchief, but the more she stretched, the farther away it slipped. With horror, she watched as it disintegrated before her eyes…

  “OKAY, this is getting just a little too weird, even for me.”

  Cale glanced down at Maggie. She lay stretched out on the leather sofa, her head supported by his thigh as it had been for the past hour since they’d finished off the last of the greasy tacos Maggie had wanted for supper.

  “What’s weird?” he asked, lowering the volume on the action flick playing on TV.

  She frowned as she looked up at him, confusion banked in her gaze. “I know it’s impossible because Debbie told me these books weren’t being released for another week or two, but I swear I’ve already read this one.”

  The book in question was the latest Adam Lawrence spy thriller. His aunt always received advance reading copies of the latest novels prior to their scheduled release dates. She read each and every one of them, too, and prided herself on knowing which books her regular customers would enjoy. In Cale’s opinion, his aunt’s attention to the most minute detail was what had made Better Books & Collectibles one of Santa Monica’s premier shops on Montana Avenue.<
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  “Maybe you read about it somewhere,” he suggested. Growing up, there’d always been magazines about books around the house. Perhaps Maggie had flipped through one of the many trade magazines that usually cluttered his aunt’s coffee table.

  “Hmm, maybe.” She shrugged, but didn’t sound convinced.

  She returned her attention to the book, but he didn’t bother to kick up the volume on the movie since his ability to concentrate on the overdone plot had disintegrated long ago. In fact, he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on much of anything that didn’t include Maggie in one form or another.

  He toyed with the strands of her long, fiery-red hair spread over his lap. If he wasn’t careful, he could get used to this, he thought as he watched a police car on TV crash, then explode into a ball of flames.

  The blue digital clock on the DVD player showed half past eight. In less than ten hours, he would report to Trinity Station for his next twelve-hour shift. A stab of resentment pierced him, taking him by surprise. Every minute that ticked by was one less that he’d have with Maggie. He had it bad. Real bad.

  Face it, pal. You like having her around.

  He liked the sight of her wearing nothing but one of his button-down shirts she’d taken from his closet once they’d finally emerged from the guest room late in the afternoon. The thick cotton socks covering her delicate feet made her look even more adorable. Innocent, he mused, but quickly ditched that thought. There’d been nothing innocent about the way she’d made love to him or the way she’d responded to him.

  Would she sleep in his bed tonight? The first demanding pull of arousal settled low in his gut. Or would she prefer to maintain the status quo and retreat to the guest room?

  He decided he didn’t care where she slept, so long as it was beside him.

  Yeah? For how long?

  His conscience was really starting to bug him. No handy answer existed, but at least he could admit, if only to himself, that he liked being with her. A lot. Once they’d finally emerged from the guest room, there’d been no awkwardness between them, but instead a bond he had yet to fully define. The kind he suspected could quite easily become something rich and everlasting.