Hot as Hell

by HelenKay Dimon

  “Noah.”

  He held up a hand to stop whatever she intended to say. “Don’t do this.”

  “Noah, please.”

  He could not handle this confrontation. Not now. Not on zero sleep, and when his insides were rubbed raw. “I can’t argue with you about this anymore.”

  “Then don’t.” Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes.

  Not crying. He could not tolerate seeing her cry. “You should go.”

  “I want to stay.”

  What the hell was happening here? “Your signals are all over the place. Whatever you want from me, I can’t give it to you.”

  She walked around the desk, to his safety zone, and brushed her palm down his arm.

  He felt the gentle touch from the inside out. “What are you doing?”

  “Talking to you.”

  “Do it from over there or by phone.” He rubbed his forehead. “Look, I don’t understand why you’re doing—”

  “Apologizing.”

  He shook his head to make sure he understood what she just said. “Did you just—”

  “I’m sorry.” She tugged on his arm until he turned to face her. “You’re right.”

  His head started spinning. “About?”

  “I abandoned you.”

  He had to be dreaming.

  She lifted her hand to his cheek. Without thinking about it, he leaned in to her touch. The feel of her skin against his both soothed and burned him.

  And her smell. That soft fragrance that scented her skin had played in his head every damn night since Utah. Now, with her standing just inches away, it filled his head until it possessed him.

  “I don’t understand.” The whispered admission came out before he could stop it.

  “That’s my fault.”

  “Since when are you taking the blame for anything that’s gone wrong between us?”

  Her eyes blinked shut. When they opened again, the pain and sadness were there for him to see.

  Since he walked out of the bathroom and saw her standing there, all he could think about was the hurt she inflicted on him. He gave her everything and she brushed it off and walked away. The roiling anger and frustration piled up inside him in the two weeks since they parted until he did not have room for anything else.

  “I deserved that.” She nodded her head when he started to talk. “No, I do. I was concerned with what I needed. I ignored your needs. I get that now.”

  “I only needed you. Ever.”

  “Past tense?”

  He could not walk down this road again only to have her turn around and leave him. “What do you want me to say, Lexy? I’ve never hid my feelings for you.”

  “Don’t do it now.”

  But now was the one time he had to resist her. Just as he started to explain, she kissed him. A soft brush of her lips over his, but the caress was enough to burn through his resistance. Instead of pushing her away as he vowed to do every night as he sat alone in his house during the last two weeks, he pulled her close.

  Fire raced through him as he grabbed her close and kissed her back. Lost in her scent and her mouth, he barely felt her arms come up to rest on his shoulders.

  As the kiss went on, love and sorrow poured through him. But the feelings were not his, they were hers. He lifted his head. “What are we doing?”

  “Starting over.” She brushed her thumb over his lips. “I love you.”

  In the past, those words meant everything. Now they raised skepticism. Made his chest ache with uncertainty. “As you once told me, loving each other has never been the issue.”

  A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth as she studied his face. “Let me ask you this.”

  “What?”

  “Can you try to let me in?”

  “You were in.” He said that over and over, but she refused to believe it.

  “I mean emotionally. Telling me everything and not just what you think I need to know or can handle. An actual full sharing of our lives and fears, hopes, and dreams.”

  “I thought we were.”

  “I’m about to punch you.”

  He choked out a laugh. “That’s romantic.”

  Her fingers speared into his hair in the way that always turned him weak and had him looking for a bed. Despite everything, this woman still held the power to bring him to his knees and make him reassess every promise he ever made to himself about staying in control.

  “You still hold back, Noah. You love me, but treat me like you could lose me at any minute.”

  “Gee, I wonder why,” he said in his driest tone.

  This time she pinched him. “I’ll take responsibility for my part of this.”

  “Which is?”

  “Running when I should have stayed and fought for you.”

  She had never admitted that before. For the first time, she owned up to her propensity in her personal life to deal with facts straight on rather than try to whitewash reality. “That sounds about right.”

  “But you have to accept your part.”

  “Which was?”

  “Pushing me into running.”

  His brain screamed out in denial. He wanted to explain for the hundredth time how his past did not matter, but he knew that was not true. He kept trying to sell the line, but no one bought it.

  Sure, the details of his past were irrelevant to his life now. But who he was stemmed from those experiences, and the way he learned to deal with it all was keeping him from being with Lexy. He needed to own part of that. Even though he would rather blame her for not moving on, he had to take a second and wonder if he had really progressed as far as he always thought.

  But there was a bigger issue at work here. “I can’t worry that you’ll walk out the door every single time I tick you off.”

  “I’d be walking a lot if that were the case.”

  “I’m serious.” Dead serious. He could not think of anything more important than this point.

  “So am I.” She kissed his chin. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

  The synapses in his brain continued to misfire as he struggled to keep up with her changing moods. “What?”

  “You agree to live a little in the gray area. To not compartmentalize your life so I’m here.” She pressed one hand against one shoulder and the opposite hand against the other. “And you’re here.”

  The knot across his shoulders eased a bit. “And in return?”

  “I’ll stay and fight.”

  A lightness flooded through him. He could not identify the feeling, but for the first time in days he felt the weight crushing him into the ground lift. “Why does there have to be a fight?”

  “Oh, with us there will be fighting.” She pretended to frown, but her mouth kicked up in a smile. “No question.”

  Despite having her in his arms, he still did not understand what the hell was going on. Not really. Something had changed and he could not figure it out. “So, now what?”

  “We start over.”

  “I have no idea what that means.” He didn’t. No clue.

  “See, this is one of those times where being a bit less black-and-white would help you.”

  “So would you speaking English.”

  “Do you love me?”

  There it was. She laid the gauntlet at his feet. He could play it safe and walk away before she did.

  But he fell into the happiness pulsing from her instead. “Yes.”

  “Can you forgive me for hurting you?”

  That one was harder. The very male part of her wanted to tell her to screw off and leave him alone. He promised himself that was what he would say if this opportunity ever arose again. But he did not count on the feel of her skin and the look of love in her eyes. He certainly did not realize his heart could heal with hope.

  “Never again, Lexy.”

  “Promise.” She said the word so fast that he almost didn’t catch it.

  But he believed her. Dope that he was, he let the happiness bubbling out of her infect him, too
. She finally understood that she had caused some damage.

  Now he had to take responsibility for his part of this mess. He roped his arms around her waist and pulled her so tight against him that she had to look up to see him. “Can you forgive me?”

  “If you’re willing to try to change and understand why I need you to.”

  Her parents and upbringing shaped her more than he realized until right that minute. He kept things close and quiet because he wanted to forget. She wanted openness because she never wanted to live in secret again. He got it now. And the fact they worked it out before it was too late sent all those doubts and all that anger rushing out of him.

  “We’re talking about a mutual thing.” He understood that now. It would take both of them working and changing to make this work. If they failed, he would lose everything. So he vowed not to fail.

  “A very mutual thing.” She nibbled on his neck and his doubts vanished.

  Laughter swelled inside of him. “Now, when you say start over…”

  Her kisses trailed up to ear. “Yeah?”

  “How much of a start are we talking about?”

  She pulled back and smiled up at him with all the wonder and love he ever wanted or needed. “I figure it will take us six months to plan the wedding.”

  He picked her up until her feet dangled off the floor. Then he kissed her. Packed in there was the promise of a life together. Together they were better than they were apart.

  “And time for therapy,” she said when they rose for air.

  “What?”

  “Just some counseling to help us start off right.”

  “You’re ruining my good mood.” But she wasn’t. If Lexy needed them to work through everything with someone else, he would do it.

  He doubted they would need much coaching. Now that they tasted life without each other, they’d fight to leave it behind forever.

  “What do I get in exchange for going to this counseling?”

  “A fiancée and a PR manager.”

  All the broken pieces inside him healed. “I like the way you multitask.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Tough talk for a man who’s still wearing his pants.”

  “Damn, I love you.”

  The confession earned him another kiss. “I love you, too.”

  His mind moved on to the makeup portion of the day. “Did you lock the door?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let’s try a little multisomething.”

  She laughed until he dragged her to the floor, then she moaned. Yeah, they were understanding each other just fine. He knew they would forever.

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  T am cupped her tea in both hands and inhaled the steam as she studied his face. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but it was taking more energy than she’d expected to withstand the gale force of this man’s sex appeal. Erin had not been kidding.

  For some reason, Tam had been expecting a generic male underwear model sort of good looks. Which was unfair. Erin was married to Connor, after all, and even Tam could appreciate his craggy, fierce good looks. Even in her most virulent, man-repelled moods.

  But still. She was utterly unprepared for…well, him.

  Lethal. It was the first word that came to mind, even though it embarrassed her. He was so solid, so hard looking. Dynamic, and yet calm and focused. Nothing soft about him, except for the gloss of that thick brush of black hair. She wanted to touch it, just to see if it really was as soft as mink. Gypsy dark eyes, inky brows and lashes. The planes and angles of his face were starkly masculine, arrogantly sensual, but that smile was pure temptation. She’d considered herself impervious to men’s lures, so why was she marveling at the lines carved into his cheeks when he grinned, or that blinding flash of teeth against his dark skin? Get a fucking grip, Steele. This is unacceptable.

  His face looked hard-used for a rich business consultant. There were bumps on his slightly crooked nose, a white diagonal scar sliced through one thick, slashing eyebrow, and subtler scars that only a trained eye accustomed to evaluating the effects of cosmetic surgery could catch. And the hands, of course. He’d fought, in his life. Fought hard. Won, more often than not, judging from his vibe.

  And what a vibe. It blasted out of him, full force. It was out of human range, a frequency that only a fucked-up freakoid with a weird, checkered past like hers could perceive. But so different from the danger waves that had throbbed out of the sicko madmen she’d had the misfortune to get close to before, like Novak, Georg, Drago Stengl. Their vibration had been a miasma of rot that made her tissues recoil.

  Not so with Janos. In him, the danger was blended like a cocktail with seductive, predatory male sexual energy that assaulted her at every level. It silently said, beneath the smooth veneer of perfect gentlemanly courtesy, that he wanted to fuck her, left, right, up, down, and sideways. And that it would be well worth her while.

  She didn’t doubt it. But she wasn’t going to listen, not even with her nerves jangling, her skin prickling, her heart thudding. Back off, boyo. This was business, and that was how it was going to stay.

  “You’re not what you try to appear,” she said. “You are charming and flirtatious and inscrutable, Mr. Janos, but tiny details betray you. Your hands should be soft, from handling nothing heavier than a pen and a computer mouse, but yours are scarred and callused. And your face. Your nose has been broken. Several times it wasn’t set. You can’t blame the martial arts club. If it happened during sparring, why would a rich, image conscious businessman neglect to get his nose set? Of course, he would not.”

  “I did not see the point of—”

  “So it happened when you were a boy,” she went on smoothly. “No one set your nose then, either, which implies poverty, neglect, or both. I’m thinking an urban environment, judging from your basic vibe. And those scars on your face, the tiny one above your lip, the one cutting through your eyebrow, the one on your forehead that you almost hide with your hair, it makes me wonder what other scars you hide with the beautiful six thousand Euro suit you’re wearing. You’ve had laser treatments, dermabrassion, but the ghosts always remain.”

  “I’m glad you like the suit,” he said blandly.

  “You’re no country boy,” she went on. “But you’re not from Rome. You don’t have the accent of the Roman periphery. Your Italian has a Roman cadence, but to my ear, it is a studied one, not a native one. You grew up somewhere else, speaking something else, and learned your perfect Italian later. And you grew up rough. Very rough.”

  He stared back at her, frozen into stillness. His eyes were chips of black, opaque glass. “Go on,” he said.

  She set down the teacup, threaded her fingers together and rode the swirling current deeper into wild speculation. She felt like she was drifting on a boat into a night-dark cave of mysteries, and only the currents of air, the echoes, the flutter of distant bats’ wings could hint at its true vastness. It was dangerous. And…exciting.

  She pondered his stark face for a moment, and went on. “You are a ladies’ man, and your charm is slick, practiced. You are accustomed to controlling women with sex, but unlike other men with that ability, your ego does not rest on it—although your looks and your body would entitle you to—”

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “I am not complimenting you,” she said, her voice impatient. “This is an analysis, Janos. Not flattery. Not flirting.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, after a brief, startled pause. “Please, continue to invade my pathetic defenses. By all means, cut deeper to reveal my wretched, naked, cringing inner self. Feel free.”

  She did not acknowledge his sarcasm. “Sex is a tool for you,” she said. “But when a tactic of seduction does not achieve its goal, you just change tactics without getting your pride hurt and try again, and again, and again. This suggests a lack of machismo not normal in a man from any culture I know—particularly
not one who professes to have grown up in Italy. Italian men aren’t known for their humility, or their self-control. This coolness, this calculation regarding sex is a trait I associate with high-end sex professionals.”

  His gaze flickered.

  She pounced. “Ah. I’ve hit a sore spot,” she murmured. “Have you ever been a gigolo, Mr. Janos? Do you have a more colorful past than you lead people to believe? Some dirty, dangerous secrets of your own?”

  He stared at her. His eyes burned.

  “Tell me something, Janos,” she whispered. “Can you make your cock hard on command?”

  His mouth was a hard, flat line. “Yes,” he said. “But in your vicinity, no effort is necessary.”

  “What a lovely sentiment. Should I be gratified?”

  “Reach under the table, and take the measure of your future gratification right now,” he said.

  “Oh, my.” She pretended to be scandalized. “The veneer of the perfect gentleman is cracking.”

  “You should not wonder at it, since you shattered it yourself with an ice pick. See what lurks beneath the veneer. Go on, feel it. It’s yours for the asking. I do not think you will be disappointed.”

  She stared at him, her heart pumping. The game had slipped out of her control and taken on its own life. She realized that she was tempted to do exactly as he invited. To grasp his cock, test his heat, the hardness. Feel the vital energy of him pulsing against her hand.

  Make sure to catch

  THE MANE ATTRACTION by Shelly Laurenston,

  out this month from Brava…

  S issy Mae turned over and buried her head back in the pillows, trying her best to block out the sunlight. Since she’d never been a morning person, Sissy always kept the blinds in her room at the Kingston Arms Hotel closed. Why she didn’t do that last night, she had no idea.

  Well, it didn’t matter. She was too exhausted to care at this point. Exhausted and in pain. Her throat was sore and raw, and her head throbbed. It felt like her brain was rattling around inside her skull.

  It had to have been that last sip of tequila. The one where she clearly remembered saying to herself, “Well, I shouldn’t waste it.”