Burn Me Anthology

by Shantel Tessier

  Both of his hands were on my waist, his fingers digging into my sides, making me feel more than desired.

  Safe. I didn’t know him. Not really. But he made me feel cherished.

  Not wanting to ruin the moment with my overthinking, I let go and soared with him. I fought to deepen the kiss, standing on the tips of my toes, my hands tangled in his hair, gripping it tighter. Silently demanding more. His hands clenched my ass. His thick, muscular thigh nudged between my legs, and I moaned. It felt like fucking heaven.

  My back hit the driver’s side door of my car. His tongue lashed in and out of my mouth, mimicking the exact way I wanted him to take my body, and I gave more. He groaned, the sound full of need and sexy as sin. His thigh moved upward just right, raking against me, causing luscious sensations to rock through my body. I moaned loudly against his lips. My entire body trembled. My clit pulsated in time with the blood thrumming through my body.

  We broke the kiss for oxygen, and I dragged it into my lungs as his teeth skimmed the skin along my jaw.

  “Yes!” I hissed as I felt the small sting of pain with his teasing bites. “Mav, please,” I whimpered. “I need more,” I begged, unsure of what I was pleading for, only knowing I needed more.

  “Shit,” he croaked, suddenly pulling his body away from mine, and I felt the loss like a slap in the face.

  I staggered to stand on my own without having him for support. My breath was ragged. I wanted to cry out in pain at the loss of his touch and beg for his arms again.

  But he didn’t come back, and I didn’t go after him.

  For a long minute, we stood there, my fingers on my lips, which were raw and swollen from his assault. His hands fisted together at his sides. The only small conciliation I had was the way he was breathing and struggling to gain control.

  He opened his mouth, but I already knew what he was going to say. Maybe it was the jetlag, or maybe I was just being defensive, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  And I sure as hell didn’t want him to have the last word.

  Not when I knew his words were only going to leave me feeling rejected and alone. And weirdly vulnerable.

  How could a kiss feel more intimate than actual sex?

  “I’m…” He pulled in a deep gasp of air. “Shit, Princess, I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake,” he said. His words cut me open, like I knew they would. How can something that rocked my entire world on its foundation be a mistake to him? I wanted to believe he was lying, but I couldn’t. Not when it would lead to hope of more. I wasn’t stupid. I could see the regret reflecting in his beautiful eyes. And it killed.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” I shook my head. “If that’s all you have to offer, then I guess I’m not missing much after all,” I somehow spit out with a surprisingly steady tone.

  “What?” he growled, but I stood in place with an ice-cold mask on my face. I can do this.

  “Thanks for not wasting my time.”

  “You felt that,” he growled, taking a step toward me. My eyes widened. I wanted so badly for him to come back. My body already missed his heat and strength. But in the light of a new day it wouldn’t matter. He would still push me away.

  I knew it and he knew it.

  “All I felt was you shove your tongue down my throat.” I rolled my eyes, hoping to God he would believe me.

  “I heard you.” Had I been loud? Probably. My cheeks flushed as I looked around, thankful the parking lot was empty.

  “Look, it was just a kiss. Don’t get your panties in a twist. Been there, done that, big boy,” I lied, praying he bought it. I was humiliated enough. What I had shared with him was a hell of a lot more than a kiss. But if he could push me away, there was no way he felt it, and damn if that didn’t hurt the most.

  He took a step back, his hands in his hair, and I fought to act the part of the I-don’t-give-a-fuck princess he already thought I was.

  “See you around, Bridges,” I muttered, hopping into my car, unable to look him in the eye and praying he didn’t catch the way my hands shook.

  Chapter 4

  Maverick

  It was just a kiss.

  Her damn voice had been on freaking repeat all day.

  Just a kiss, his ass.

  His day off had been as uneventful as productive. He ran the errands he had put off the last couple of months. They needed to get done. Sure. It wasn’t like he was avoiding being home with a sexy little princess with hair so damn soft, he swore he could still feel it in his hands.

  Just a kiss. Her voice in his head made him growl. She’d felt it, like he had. There was no way a kiss like that, a magnetic attraction like they’d experienced, could be one-sided.

  Less than twenty-four hours later, he could still feel her lips on his. Her sweet taste coursed through his veins, fueling his need. I seriously need to get laid. But he couldn’t touch her. At the end of the day she was Gabe’s little sister. Not only that, but she was a decade younger than him.

  He couldn’t touch her. Not again, he reminded himself.

  Looking at her Jeep in the driveway, Gabe’s huge truck nowhere to be seen, he took a labored breath. He could do this. He could go into the house and NOT touch Sofia Blanco. Gabe was probably with whatever booty call he had. Not that Mav blamed him. If he had someone who could get his dick wet on the regular, he would be there instead of hanging out with family.

  Slipping out of his SUV, he walked into the quiet, well-lit house. The soft murmur of a TV playing in the background somewhere in the house made him think she was already in bed.

  Damn.

  Sofia and a bed, and all the damn possibilities that went with it.

  He was freaking pathetic! What was wrong with him? He should have hit up a bar, or dialed one of his own booty calls to solve his problem. He scratched the top of his freshly-cut hair as he headed to the kitchen, knowing that wouldn’t be the answer. He raised his eyes and stopped in his tracks at the sight before him.

  She was standing at the counter, her back to him, her long dark hair hanging loose in waves, and just like that, he was starving. Her creamy skin had a golden glow, highlighting how much of her flesh was showing, thanks to her outfit. He had always had a thing for women in lingerie. What man didn’t? But what she was wearing fell between classy and sexy.

  Like a wet dream, Sofia was in a blush pink satin pajama set. Tiny little shorts fell just above mid-thigh and hugged the curves of her ass just tight enough he knew she was bare underneath. Not even a thong could work beneath there without showing up somehow. Her top was in the same color, a creamy white lace at the edge and the bottom, all held up by two tiny straps at her shoulders. In the light, he could see she had freckles sprinkled over her skin, and all he could think about was licking each and every one before playing connect the dots with those freckles as he searched her delicious body for others.

  When she turned, the sight of her only improved.

  Braless.

  She was obviously not expecting him. At the first sight of him she jumped, and he bit back a groan. Her tits bounced, and the image of her pretty little body over his, riding him, flooded his mind. Shit.

  Gabe’s sister! he half-heartedly reminded himself yet again, but the thought quickly faded as he caught her shiver. Her skin was covered with goose bumps, and her perfect pointy nipples popped out, greeting him.

  “Hey.” He tore his eyes away from her tits, clearing his throat. When he looked at her face, his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. She was wearing thick, black, nerd-like glasses, which only made him hotter for her. Fuck, I’ve always had a thing for girls in glasses.

  “Hey.” She smiled, her eyes obviously appreciating the sight of him. He stood straighter, puffing his chest out, stifling a groan as she licked the tip of a chocolate-covered finger.

  He hid his body behind the kitchen island, so he wouldn’t scare her away with the way his dick was tenting up behind his pants.

  “Want some?” she offered, and he clenched his
hands on the dark granite of the kitchen island.

  Want some? Damn, that was a loaded question.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, Nutella toast!” she cleared up, gifting him with a smile he felt in his chest. Lifting a small plate, she showed him the two slices of toast with chocolate spread on it.

  “No, I’m good,” he lied as his stomach growled lowly, suddenly starving.

  “Not much of a sweet tooth?” she asked, her eyes glued to his chest, and he couldn’t help but grin.

  Just a kiss, my ass.

  “How was your day?” He ignored her sweet tooth question. It was too tempting to offer spreading her up with chocolatey hazelnut goodness, so he could have his merry way with her.

  “Good. I went to see my mom.”

  “How is she?”

  “Good. She asked about you,” she shared, and he nodded. “Her new place is nice,” she kept talking, and he just listened.

  “It’s a good size for her. I’ll see her Sunday.”

  “I guess the three of us will now, huh? That’s the routine, right?” she asked right before taking a bite. When some of the chocolate spread stayed on the edge of her lip, he gritted his teeth as he held on to the countertop to stop himself from moving toward her and licking it away.

  Nutella and Sofia. He had never thought of anything as decadent as that.

  “I’ll give her a call tomorrow,” he chimed in. It felt wrong talking about Mrs. Blanco with an erection.

  “She’ll like that.” She shrugged and took another bite, crumbs falling down her plentiful chest. “So, umm… I was thinking we should probably talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “I mean, we’re cool, right?” she asked, giving him an out.

  “Cool?” he repeated, his eyes pinned on her. Cool?

  “Yeah.” She shrugged nervously. “Look, yesterday was crazy, right?” she asked, but he didn’t say anything, He just watched her, that damn warmth in his chest growing. There was a blush on the apples of her cheeks, and even though her eyes were hidden behind her ugly but cute glasses, he could see the hungry desire radiating from them. “Case of mistaken identity and all that.”

  “What?”

  “I said, just chalk it up to mistaken identity. And it isn’t like we did anything bad. All we did was kiss. It’s not like we ran away and eloped, you know?”

  “Sofi—”

  “Even if it was an okay kiss.” The blush moved further south from her cheeks to her collarbone, and he clenched his jaw.

  “Okay kiss?” he repeated. “It was a hell of a lot better than just okay.”

  “Well…” She rolled her eyes, but he could see it. It was all for show. He smiled. She was so damn adorable he couldn’t be pissed at her. Right then, in the kitchen, he could see how he affected her.

  “I like the glasses,” he pointed out, and she simply squished her face up, making him laugh. Fuck, she was something else. He was hard and so damn horny he was close to going cross-eyed, but she could still make him laugh. “What? I’m serious.”

  “I only wear them at night,” she divulged on a shrug, making him smile.

  “They’re very….” —he tilted his head and grinned at her—“smart.”

  “Smart?” Her eyebrows shoot up, and he chuckled.

  “Come on, don’t you know that smart girls are sexy?”

  “Since when?” she asked, and he winked.

  “Always.” He was walking on thin ice. He shouldn’t have been flirting with her, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Whatever. You don’t have to tease me.”

  “Trust me, babe, if I were teasing you, you would be tied up to my bed, and there wouldn’t be any question of what was happening, and you sure as hell would like it.” When her eyes widened, he realized he had said the words out loud.

  She tried to act unamused, but he could see the interest twinkling back. “Does that work for you?”

  “Pretty much. What you see is what you get with me,” he offered the truth. He wanted her to know him, despite it being wrong.

  “Wow, an honest guy. How… refreshing,” she retorted dryly, and he laughed at her attitude. He had never been attracted to a woman with an attitude, but hers called to his dick like a damn target.

  “You have a little something…” He pointed to her lip, and she wiped the Nutella away with the pad of her finger before licking it clean. That was all she had to do to have him break a sweat.

  He wanted her. He wanted her, and he was flirting with her like a damn idiot. He knew better. He couldn’t keep flirting with her.

  “I better go to sleep,” he gruffed, his face serious as he crossed his arms at his chest, afraid he would give in and touch her.

  “Oh.” Her face fell, her eyes flashed with disappointment, and he wanted to stay. He wanted to do anything in his power to wipe that look away. Hell, he wanted her to throw him a smile again. Fuck, he even wanted to suggest they go into the living room and watch a movie, or do anything she wanted so he could stay in her space. “Good night, then,” she said softly, faking a smile, disappointment still in her eyes.

  “Night.” His voice sounded too hoarse. Everything inside of him yelled to turn and reach out for her with every step he took, but he didn’t.

  “Mav?” she called out, and he only turned his head, hoping she wouldn’t catch sight of the very big bulge at the front of his shorts. “I like the haircut.” And he stopped in his tracks.

  “Thanks.” He gave her a chin lift, changing his mind about going to bed, and headed straight to the bathroom.

  He needed a fucking cold shower.

  Sofia

  Damn! Why did he have to be so damn hot?

  And sweet.

  And funny.

  His laugh alone made me squirm, ruining my panties in the process.

  God, I’m a freak! A slutty freak!

  Sitting at the dining table alone, I bit into my toast, letting the hazelnutty goodness hit the taste buds on my tongue. With a sigh, I stared toward the bathroom.

  I could hear the water running, and my mind ran with wild images of Maverick.

  Maverick Bridges.

  Naked.

  Water dripping and sluicing down his body.

  Without thinking, as if my feet had a mind of their own, I walked to the bathroom.

  It’s on the way to my room, I tried to justify, even as I stopped in front of the door. The door wasn’t closed all the way.

  Biting my lip, I wondered if I had lost my ever-loving mind. I needed to stop. I couldn’t walk in.

  I shouldn’t.

  But I didn’t stop. Nope. Because it was official. I was not only a slutty crazy woman, but a slutty peeping perv.

  The bathroom was filled with steam and a masculine scent clinging to the thick, warm air. Probably Maverick’s body wash. It was spicy and clean, so good my thighs clenched tightly, seeking some kind of relief. When a loud, deep groan echoed in the bathroom, my breath hitched in my throat.

  “Fuck,” he cursed in a tone so deep it made my clit pulse.

  The hand at my mouth moved from my collarbone. The tips of my fingers slid over the silky material of my pajamas. My breasts felt too heavy and full. Before I realized what I was doing, my fingers skimmed over my breast and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped as I took a step closer.

  Other than the pouring water, the bathroom went silent. My heart thundered in my ears. Get out! I yelled at myself, but my feet were nailed to the floor beneath me.

  The shower curtain slid open, then his handsome face peeked through. My eyes roamed down to the very big and very erect appendage between his thighs. One he was holding in his hand.

  Tightly.

  Thick and beautiful, a mushroom tip, red and angry. I licked my lips. What am I doing?!

  My eyes popped up to his face. His were stuck on my breasts. I felt them like a touch, and since I was a crazy, slutty pervert, I pulled on my nipple, my eyes hooding at the sensation. My breath hitched. I didn’
t take my eyes off him. A light sheen of sweat covered my skin, making my clothes stick to my body.

  He didn’t stop stroking himself, and it was the most erotic thing I’d ever witnessed. His hand caressed his erection from the base to the tip, his thumb skimming the angry-looking tip. His movements were achingly slow. Like he was daring me to tell him to stop. Or trying to get me to run.

  But I wouldn’t.

  No way in hell I could. I needed to keep watching him.

  So, I took his challenge and gave him one of my own.

  I pulled my nipple, twisting it gently before letting my hand move over the other. His free hand grabbed the curtain rod. His muscles flexed and strained under his beautiful sun-kissed skin.

  We didn’t say a word.

  Neither of us spoke. Not when he stepped out of the still running, steamy shower in all his naked glory. I couldn’t even breathe as he brushed past me. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave.

  But he didn’t.

  He closed the door, the lock clicking in place almost echoing through the bathroom. When he turned toward me, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He silently put his hands on my waist and lifted me up, my hands on his hot-to-the-touch chest as he sat me on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

  “What are—”

  “Shut it,” he ordered through his clenched jaw. I closed my mouth and opened my legs to give him space as he moved in between them. My body shook head to toe at the feel of his body pressed close.

  His wet and very naked body.

  His hands traced my shoulders from one end to the other until they found their way past my neck and into my hair.

  “What are you doing?” I breathed.

  “I told you to shut it.” His lips tugged at my earlobe before he took my now foggy glasses off, placing them on the other side of the counter.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, wondering if it was possible to have a heart attack at my age. My heart was beating way too fast, and blood roared in my ears.