Burn Me Once

by Clare Connelly

  Challenge accepted, Miss Douglas.

  I pace towards her, so close that we are almost but not quite touching.

  ‘I know that you love to go running in a way that I will never understand but will try to come to terms with. I know that you love Neil deGrasse Tyson. I know that you drink gin and tonic and live with Eliza and Cassie and that you think of them as sisters.’

  I’ve got her attention—if only because I’m moving infinitesimally closer with each sentence, closing what little gap remains between us.

  ‘I know that your parents are conservative and that you don’t want to disappoint them. I know that you feel about art the way I do about music. I know that you are brilliant and respected and intelligent, and as rare as any of my favourite Impressionist masterpieces.’

  She sucks in a breath and my eyes drop to her lips, to the way they’re parted, revealing her white teeth and warm mouth. But I cannot be derailed from my argument. Not yet.

  ‘I know that you always eat your burger before you touch your fries—that you never eat them both at the same time—and I know that you like coffee first thing in the morning, even before I’ve spoken to you. I know that watching you eat a peach is the sexiest damn thing in the world. I know that you sing in the shower and, I’m sorry to say it, that you have one of the worst singing voices I’ve ever heard. Seriously...you couldn’t find the right key even if it landed on your head.’

  ‘Insulting me probably isn’t what you want to do right now,’ she mutters belligerently.

  Her eyes jerk to mine angrily and I lift a hand to calm her, press it lightly to her arm. ‘I know that, regardless of that, hearing you sing is still one of the things that makes me the happiest man in the world.’

  Her eyes scrunch closed and I recognise the anguish on her features.

  ‘Yellow tulips are your favourite flower and you love New York. I know that the first words I spoke to you were a pop bloody song, and I remember everything about you from that night—what you were wearing, what we talked about—everything. Because that was the night that changed my life.’

  She makes a strangled noise of pain...or recognition. Something I take as encouragement.

  ‘I know that you’re a homebody, and that I’m asking you to sacrifice that to be with me—because I’m going to want you with me all the time.’

  Her brows draw together and I rush on.

  ‘But I’ll do anything to make you happy—which means cutting back on my commitments.’

  Her eyes widen with surprise.

  ‘I know every single thing about your body—your birthmarks, your freckles, and the ways I can touch you that drive you wild. I know that you’ve been hurt and that you’re scared out of your mind by what you feel for me.’

  She drops her eyes to the ground, and in that moment I am so angry at what that bastard did to her.

  But she doesn’t deny it now. Her shoulders slump as she accepts everything I’m saying. It’s a silent admission and it means everything to me. I begin to breathe again.

  I speak more quietly, like I’m taming a skittish horse. ‘I know you’re worried that I’m on the rebound, and that I’m going to wake up one morning and realise I’m still in love with my ex. And I know that I’m not. I know this because I know everything about you and I still want to know more. I know this because I was asleep my whole life until meeting you. I love you—I love you in the way that all those songs have been written about. I love you in the I-want-to-get-married-and-have-babies-and-be-with-you-for-ever-and-ever kind of way.’

  I can’t read her face. I don’t know what she’s thinking. All I know is that I hurt her and I have to fix it. I have to make her understand that I’m not Jeremy and that Sienna’s not a problem for us.

  I’m afraid again—afraid that she’s going to reject me and that this really will be it. I can’t keep forcing her to face up to what we are. If she doesn’t want this then I have to let her go.

  The future looks unimaginably odd without Ally in it. I can’t even contemplate that I might fail here.

  I try again, with desperation and need, and I lean closer, my lips almost buzzing hers.

  ‘I write songs about love and I still can’t find the right way to say this. To do this. Because it matters too much. There’s no euphemism or comparison I can make that does justice to how you make me feel. You give all my songs meaning.’

  Still she looks at me without giving anything away, so I move closer and link my fingers with hers, squeezing them.

  ‘I spent six years with Sienna and I never knew her like I know you. Time doesn’t matter. Nothing really does except the way we feel. I know this is it. The real deal. The thing you wait for and hope you’re going to be lucky enough to find. I love you.’

  She sobs and shakes her head, and her eyes look at me accusingly.

  ‘How dare you?’

  It’s not what I expect. Panic surges through me. But then she lifts up on tiptoe and mashes her lips against mine, anger in every movement of her mouth.

  ‘How dare you come here and be so perfect when all I want is to forget about you?’

  Hope flares.

  ‘Don’t forget about me.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she says.

  ‘Because you love me.’

  I know it, but more than I’ve ever needed anything I need to hear her say it.

  She lifts her hands and pushes at my chest. I think she’s going to shout at me, or push me away, but then she runs at me and takes me with her, back to the wall. She is kissing me and pushing at my jacket so that I laugh into her mouth.

  I want this. I want to fuck her.

  But it’s just another form of hiding.

  Fighting this with the sex thing is pointless. We know that works.

  I hold her at arm’s length.

  ‘You love me, right?’

  ‘Yeah. I love you.’

  She sounds so angry I can’t help but laugh.

  ‘Good.’ I nod. ‘Prove it.’

  She moves closer to kiss me, but I shake my head. ‘No.’ My eyes are determined. But every single nerve inside me is groaning and protesting my honourable intentions. ‘First we have dinner. We date.’

  ‘I don’t want to date,’ she says in disbelief—a disbelief I completely understand.

  ‘Yeah, well, we’re going to.’ I lean in and kiss her lightly. ‘I’m never going to give you a reason to doubt what you mean to me. That’s our new deal. Okay by you?’

  She stares at me, her eyes huge, her lips parted, her breath audible. A pulse point is jerking in the base of her throat and, damn it, good intentions or not, I want to reach over and run my teeth over it.

  She moves forward, pressing her hips to me so that I’m sure she can feel my rock-hard cock through the fabric of our clothes.

  I am desperate to drag her into my bed, but if I play my cards right I’ll have the rest of my life for that. Now is for sealing the deal. Now is for making sure she knows how much I love her and how much she loves me back, so that she can forget about that asswipe Jeremy and begin to see herself like I do.

  Brave. Smart. Kind. Good. One of a kind.

  ‘Deal,’ she purrs. ‘But don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you...’

  I relax. I smile at her and she smiles at me and we understand one another. Love is a gamble, but so is life, and my life has new meaning because I have found—unexpectedly, unquestionably—never-ending love.

  * * * * *

  If you loved this book, check out this other great read by Clare Connelly

  OFF LIMITS

  Keep reading for an excerpt from BOARDROOM SINS by J. Margot Critch.

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  Boardroom Sins

  by J. Margot Critch

  CHAPTER ONE

  BRETT COLLINS WAS BORED.

  He looked past his circle of friends as they talked among themselves, barely hearing what they were discussing, and he scanned the large room. He’d grown up in rooms like this, attending parties like this. As the only son of one of the most influential businessmen in Las Vegas, he’d gotten to know all the players at a young age. But as he sipped his glass of soda water, he almost sighed out loud. The same faces, the same discussions, the same deals.

  He was restless. He wanted—needed—a challenge. Something new.

  Collins/Fischer—the real estate development company he’d started with his friend Alex, the linchpin of their other operations—had seen great success in the past years, and they’d maintained a comfortable spot near the top. But he wanted more. He wanted to be number one. And as he looked across the room for inspiration, a sign of what would be next for him, he found nothing.

  Inherently, Brett hated schmoozing parties, preferring instead to meet with people in a less manufactured setting. But they did serve their purpose: talking to people, finding out the local gossip—who had been fired, who had been hired, who’d signed what deals, who was under indictment, who was sleeping with whom. And that was why he and The Brotherhood—his closest friends and business partners since college—had gone to Mayor Thompson’s party. To look for their next opportunity to strike, to make another splash on the local scene. At only thirty, they’d all done quite well for themselves, and while many in the room hated and feared them, were jealous of and intimidated by the business acumen of the group, they all still wanted a piece of them. Everyone in the room would benefit from a close relationship with the members of The Brotherhood.

  There was Alex, his business partner in real estate; Gabe, one of the top lawyers in the city; Rafael, a Las Vegas city councillor; and Alana, the only woman in their circle, who was a talented interior designer, but she’d become the manager of the group’s restaurants and exclusive club. Together they made up The Brotherhood—and together they planned to use their expertise and influence to run the city.

  Needless to say, they weren’t at the party for social purposes. They’d secured for themselves a quiet corner of the room, near the bar, to establish their game plan for the evening. Whom they each needed to talk to, what they hoped to accomplish and just when the hell they could get out of there. But Brett couldn’t manage to focus his tired mind. He’d had a rough couple of weeks, workwise, and it was all thanks to Rebecca Daniels, the devastatingly sexy CEO of Daniels International, a rival real estate development firm. She was a major threat currently, but he and Rebecca also had a fiery past.

  Brett turned back to his friends and took another drink from his glass. The soda water, infused with lime and basil, was refreshing but didn’t improve his mood. His friends were listing the important people they wanted to approach and make connections with, but Brett could find no one in attendance whom he was interested in seeing. He couldn’t deal with another stuffed shirt or old cohort of his father’s coming up to him and asking about the elder Collins, instead of expressing interest in Brett’s endeavors. Brett loved and respected his father, but even in his years of running his own successful empire, he’d found it difficult to blaze his own trail in the shadow of Garrett Collins, one of the city’s most influential men.

  “Did you see that the Heinrich brothers are here tonight?” Alana asked the group, gesturing to two men in the center of the room. “I might have to go introduce myself. They’re visiting from Sweden, looking to open a new hotel on the Strip, and I heard they may be looking for a design collaborator,” she said, turning on her most seductive smile, sauntering away and raising her hand in greeting.

  “And Mayor Thompson is finally free,” Rafael said. “I’d better go put in an appearance, seeing as I’m trying to secure his endorsement before I announce I’m running for mayor.” He stepped away, as well.

  Alex leaned in. “Brett, the guy from Permits is here and we need to talk to him. See if we can’t grease the wheels and get the paperwork quickly approved for the new subdivision.”

  Brett nodded without much interest.

  Alex didn’t miss it. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just tired, I guess. I haven’t slept much this week. This messing around with Daniels International is starting to get to me.” It all started a few months ago when the other company had outmaneuvered Brett and Alex in scooping up and securing a huge deal out from under them, costing Collins/Fischer a small fortune. Brett and Alex had responded by buying out one of Daniels’s key suppliers and raising the prices. He could only imagine the scrambling that had gone on at DI that day. But then Rebecca had countered by poaching one of their VPs and giving him a place at Daniels International. Escalation had been quick, vicious, and he’d racked his brain trying to figure out his next step. But it had to be big. Nobody screwed with Collins/Fischer. Brett had to end the feud, and quick.

  “You have to put it aside,” Alex told him. “We shouldn’t let this escalate too much. We need to focus on our own work and not worry about Rebecca Daniels or Daniels International.” Brett opened his mouth to speak, but Alex plowed over him. “I know you guys have history. But focus. What’s important now is our own success, not revenge.”

  “Whatever history I may or may not have with Rebecca Daniels has nothing to do with the business.”

  “You’ve been working day and ni
ght for the past couple of months. Why don’t you go on home? Get some sleep, go to the club and get laid, watch TV, whatever. I can handle things here. I’ll talk to the permits guy.”

  Sex and sleep—hell, even crashing in front of the television—definitely sounded better than smooth talking anyone in attendance at the party, but he couldn’t make himself leave and take a night off. If he wasn’t working, or thinking about work, it felt like he was wasting his time. Work provided the necessary distraction from his thoughts and darker urges. “I know you can handle it. But you know me. I don’t do well with downtime,” Brett returned, grimacing. Downtime led to boredom, and boredom led to cravings. He sipped his water again.

  “Yeah, but it isn’t healthy to spend every waking moment thinking about the business.”

  “Are you really giving me this lecture? You’re just like me.”

  Alex laughed, and Brett followed his friend’s gaze across the room, until it landed on a gorgeous blonde wearing a tight black dress. “Yeah, but I know how to take the night off to allow time for the finer things.” The blonde looked back and smiled, waving to Alex. “And that’s my cue,” he muttered and sauntered away to focus on the finer things, leaving Brett alone.

  Brett knocked back the rest of his water and put his glass on the bar. Maybe he should leave, see what he could get up to at Di Terrestres. He scanned the crowd one more time, hoping to find inspiration for the next big project, the one that would make him and his friends, The Sin City Brotherhood, legends of Las Vegas. He watched the door to the ballroom open, and a beautiful, glamorous woman entered the party. And his eyes connected with the one face that made his blood boil with anger and lust—the blast from the past who was currently working tirelessly to ruin his life. The woman who plucked his memories, tore at his chest and stiffened his posture, not to mention his dick—Rebecca Daniels.

  * * *

  Rebecca smoothed a hand down the front of her black silk dress and straightened the hem that hit several inches above her knees. She accepted a glass of champagne from a server balancing a tray on his fingertips, and she sipped from it. She’d been attending events like Mayor Thompson’s party for years, and they were like second nature to her. She felt at ease, able to mingle her way through the crowds, shift in and out of conversations. But that night, she wanted no more than to go home and crash in her bed. She’d had a long few weeks—an even longer few months since her father had passed away six months ago and she’d taken the helm of Daniels International. She’d had time for little else than work lately.