Bring On the Heat

by Eden Bradley

  She sipped at her wine and watched him eat, loving the way his lips wrapped around the fork. “So you’ve only lived in that house for a little over a year? It’s so beautiful.”

  “You can thank my interior decorator for that. I had a total bachelor pad in LA and I was tired of it by the time I was ready to move. I sold everything except my personal stuff and pretty much started from scratch out here. I want something…different in my life now than what I had. I know it sounds dumb, but I was leading a pretty useless existence out in LA. Hooking up with gold diggers, getting caught up in petty drama bullshit, and just barely escaping getting pulled into drugs.”

  “Sounds like you made a good choice moving out here.”

  He grinned. “Best choice I ever made, Mistress.”

  She took a sip of the excellent chardonnay and turned to watch the last of the sunset. She didn’t usually eat this much on a date because of nerves, but being with Ryan was easy. They’d always had this kind of underlying camaraderie. Talking to him was like talking to an old friend.

  An old friend she desperately wanted to fuck.

  He stood and came over to her side, then held out his hand. “Would you like to go watch the last of the sunset?”

  “Sure.”

  They took the stairs to the very top sundeck of the yacht and she sighed in delight. A white overstuffed futon was perfectly positioned so they could watch the last sliver of burning pink slide over the water and onto the other side of the planet. She didn’t object when he pulled her down next to him, and when he held her in his arms, she had to still a shiver of desire. Being here with him, like this, made Ryan seem more real somehow. She realized that she almost viewed the men that she pro-Dommed as possessions rather than people. The men she dated had been little more than glorified booty calls. Her refusal to get involved with any man who had a chance at her heart had kept her safe so far, but she couldn’t feel any distance between herself and Ryan, psychically or emotionally. Right now, her soul was wrapped around him like a blanket and vice versa.

  It was scary.

  It was wrong.

  It was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt.

  He looked down at her and the fading light on his strong features made anticipation flutter through her stomach. She wanted to kiss him more than she’d ever wanted to kiss anyone. The curve of his lips, the little indentation of a dimple near the left corner, and the memory of how full and soft they were had her lifting her hand to his face.

  She studied him then slowly leaned in and brushed her lips over his. Immediate tingles raced up her spine and she let out a little hum of appreciation. A low rumble of desire vibrated from his chest when she straddled him, looking down as he gripped her hips. His gaze was dark and wild, and she could feel his need radiating from his body in heated waves. Then he tilted his pelvis just the slightest bit, situating his hard cock between her legs.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in a low voice as he ran his hands from her hips up to her bare arms.

  Flushing, she looked away from his gaze to play with a button on his shirt. If she stayed up here with him much longer they’d end up having sex and she’d have to end things between them. She didn’t want that, at all, so she had to compromise between what her heart and her head wanted. Maybe she could have it all if she just took things slow with Ryan.

  “Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, she slid off his lap and sighed. “It’s getting late.”

  He pulled her next to him, cuddling her to his chest. “You could stay here.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t have a relationship right now.”

  “Why?”

  Stiffening, she tried to pull away but he held her closer. “I have my reasons, which are none of your business.”

  His grip tightened further and he didn’t let her wiggle away. “It is my business.”

  Giving him a small shove, she moved away when he released her and quickly stood. “Take me home.”

  Ryan wanted to punch something as anger tightened his muscles. He was so close to winning another night from her, so close, and she chose now to try to freeze him out. Just when he was sure that he’d started on the journey to win her heart. No, this was bullshit. He wasn’t letting her run away. “Emma, you have to know that I want you as more than as my Mistress. If you don’t want to have a relationship with me that’s fine, but at least tell me why. Please.”

  She paled and her eyes filled with tears that she probably wasn’t even aware of. “I can’t work and have a boyfriend, okay? If I love a man, the thought of pro-Domming for anyone seems so dirty and wrong. My clients deserve a Mistress who will see to their needs, not become disgusted by the thought of having to touch them.”

  “So you’re never going to allow a man into your life?”

  “Not until I either get a job or save up enough to go back to graduate school.” She gave him a small sneer and gestured to his yacht. “Unlike you, I have to work for a living.”

  That angered him further and he stood until they were almost nose to nose, or at least they would have been if she wasn’t so much smaller. He immediately reined his aggression back and tried to calm down. She was goading him, trying to drive him away, he was sure of it. Even now she leaned closer to remove the distance between them until they were touching from chest to thigh. Yes, she was pissed, but he could also see fear and longing in her expression.

  He was blowing this by pushing her too fast and what she said made sense. The thought of her touching another man, of pleasuring him even if it was just nonsexual play, made him want to beat every man who even dared to approach her. He had no choice but to accept it or lose her. He already viewed her as his woman, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to convince her he was the only man she’d ever need in her life. The urge to care for her, to protect her, to make sure she was always happy filled him until he thought he might go crazy and kidnap her until she agreed that they were meant to be.

  That sounded a little bit too much like a psycho, even to himself, so he took a deep breath and focused on the moment. Emma looked to be about two minutes from leaving him for good, so if he was going to convince her to give him another chance, just one more night, he had to do it now. Even if it meant swallowing his pride and pretending he wasn’t falling head over heels in love with her.

  Fuck, his life was complicated.

  “I understand. Why don’t we just slow things down a bit?”

  Hurt shone in her gaze even as she nodded. “Good idea.”

  “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  She flushed, but held his gaze. “I’ve got plans.”

  It took a great deal of effort to remain casual, but he managed even though jealousy spiked his blood at the thought that her plans might include doing a session with one of her clients at Kiss of Blue.

  “May I see you again?”

  The delicate tips of her fingers traced against the edge of his tattoo where it peeked through the open button of his shirt. He enjoyed her touch and liked it even more because he knew she did it without thinking. It was as if her body knew what it wanted while her mind was still conflicted so his seduction would have to be there.

  “You may.”

  “When?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  Unease gripped him as he wondered if she was just saying that to get him off her back. “Do you promise?”

  Her lips softened and she cupped her cheek with her small, sinfully soft hand. “I promise.”

  ~ * ~

  JINGLE BALL:

  MORE THE MERRIER BOOK #1

  by Cari Quinn

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ~ * ~

  ONE

  Wendy Stanton picked up a length of multi-colored garland an
d sighed. Red, blue and green garland wasn’t classy enough for Martin & Warner Real Estate’s annual Jingle Ball. The event was the biggest schmoozer they held all year and lots of rich, important guests would attend. They’d already decided the color scheme would be silver and blue, so the decoration she’d picked up on a whim would just have to go.

  She wrapped the garland around her neck and turned toward the full wall of glass behind her boss Des’s desk. She thrust out a hip and grabbed a long, narrow notepad, using it as a microphone. Then she rocked out, dirty Christmas style. She didn’t remember the lyrics to the song on the radio so she fudged them, making them up as she went along. Her husky voice wouldn’t win any awards, but she vamped it up, pushing a hand behind her head and wiggling her butt.

  Behind her, someone cleared their throat. Wendy spun around and dropped the notebook, her eyes going wide at her boss lounging in the doorway. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his snug, faded jeans, and he wore a gray silk shirt and striped tie that offset his golden skin.

  And he was smirking.

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert, Ms. Stanton.” His voice was as warm and rich as the java he walked over to dispense from his personal coffeemaker. He preferred an expensive Costa Rican blend, the best of the best. Just as he preferred top of the line in everything in his life, from clothes, to office space, to girlfriends. She still wondered how she’d slunk into his office almost a year ago when his secretary had quit on short notice.

  Des desperate was a mouth-watering sight to behold.

  Fine, he was mouth-watering regardless. He had the kind of spiky dark hair that always stuck up in all directions and his eyes were a bright blue-green she’d only ever seen in the waters of the Caribbean. And his body?

  Not. Going. There.

  “Song’s over,” she said with a shrug, picking up the notebook she’d dropped. Feigning calm around him wasn’t anything new, considering she’d had a crush on him pretty much since the first moment she’d stepped into his swanky office. He’d asked her what she considered her strongest skill and she’d been tempted to say sucking cock, just to see if she’d get a chance at his.

  Instead she’d gone with the safe answer of her one hundred words per minute typing speed.

  That she’d inquired about the job advertised in the window wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, with her hair held back by an assortment of bobby pins and paper clips—hey, she’d been out grocery shopping before she’d wandered past the office—hadn’t ruined her chances as she’d feared. He’d called to hire her the next day.

  They’d had a cordial, utterly frustrating relationship since.

  “So it is. But as it’s a radio station,” Des gestured with his coffee cup at the sleek wall unit currently playing another Christmas classic, “they keep playing them. Keep singing.”

  If she was anyone else, she’d probably hurry to obey the command in his tone. Though they were both barely thirty, Des and his best friend Cole Warner had one of the most successful real estate businesses in Eugene, New York, a decent-sized city just outside the one that never slept. They’d climbed far and fast, and that meant they weren’t strangers to making demands and ensuring they were met.

  She suspected that was true in the bedroom too. Not that she knew firsthand. Both men were nothing but professional to their secretaries. Unfortunately.

  It wasn’t as if she could tell Des she wasn’t a lawsuit waiting to happen. Nor was she trying to climb the corporate ladder, unless it led straight up to the eye-popping bulge in his pants. But that was just her fantasies talking. She wasn’t that girl.

  Those jewel-like blue-green eyes stared her down, and like a fool, she began to sing into the notebook. She had to look ridiculous with her garland and her steno microphone, but he leaned back against the wall and watched her, seemingly riveted.

  Yet again she didn’t know the words to the song, so she improvised. A smile began at the corners of his mouth, creeping inward until it turned into a full-blown grin. He set aside the coffee and clapped, the width of his hands catching her attention for the umpteenth time before her gaze skipped to his face.

  His smirk returned. Did he know what she was thinking?

  Forget that, did she know what she was thinking? He was her boss. He signed her paycheck and ponied up for the fancy health benefits that even allowed her to cover her ailing mom too. The extra expense was significant, but Des hadn’t blinked when she’d explained her mom’s heart condition and her search for affordable health care since her mom wasn’t old enough for Medicare. He shelled out a ton of extra dough each month, and she couldn’t afford to fuck that up just to…

  Fuck.

  “You’re a very creative lyricist, Wendy.” His smirk disappeared behind his coffee cup as he drank.

  And yes, she watched his throat move. And yes, she did get wet. Could’ve been due to her new thong. The satin panel tended to rub her just the right way.

  As right as her vibrator would need to rub her after work if she had any hopes of getting through the holidays without making a very big mistake. Otherwise she just might end up using her garland to bind Des to his desk chair so she could have her jolly way with him.

  “It’s more fun to make up the words.” She tugged off her rainbow garland and snatched a couple of strands of blue-and-silver. “Especially when I get drunk. You’d die if you heard some of what I come up with then.”

  “I’d like to.”

  She glanced at him, frowning, but he’d turned away to pour more coffee. The guy was a hardcore caffeine junkie, drinking the stuff like some men swigged beer. Though he might do that too. She didn’t know him outside of work.

  “I don’t drink that often.” Wincing at the unexpected loudness of her voice, she bit the inside of her cheek and wound the garland strands together to create a thick, glittery rope. She’d finished her dictation early and hoped to decorate a good portion of Des’s office before she had to get back on the phones when the other receptionist, Vanessa, went to lunch.

  The big party was tonight and they had a lot to do to make the place festive. The sprawling Victorian that served as the base for Martin & Warner had been remodeled to look like standard office space, but by this evening, the huge conference room would be set up for dancing, and the reception area would contain enough food for a small army. Van had worked there for three years and she’d set up her share of Christmas parties. Apparently Des and Cole spared no expense for the gathering.

  Noticing Des hadn’t replied, Wendy looked up to find him studying her silently while he mainlined his coffee. It was disconcerting to say the least, and she was tempted to start singing and dancing again to try to alleviate the odd tension in the room.

  “I imagine you don’t go out partying too often. You’re too responsible to leave your mom on her own all night long, aren’t you?”

  Rather than reply, she examined the garland she’d continued to twist until shards of blue and silver littered his pristine navy carpet.

  She’d probably told him too much about her personal life. But she’d only arrived in town last fall and hadn’t known a soul outside of her aunt. After Wendy’s dad had died unexpectedly last year, her mom hadn’t been the same so they’d moved from Chattanooga to be closer to Aunt Gert. Wendy had wanted her surviving parent to be near family, especially considering Noreen’s own heart problems.

  So they’d uprooted themselves and moved north—and Wendy had found herself confiding in her surprisingly compassionate boss. He’d listened without offering advice she didn’t want, and he’d helped as much as he could. Just offering them health insurance had alleviated the bulk of her stress.

  Her loneliness…well, that was a different story.

  “You’re the most responsible twenty-four year old I’ve ever met,” he continued, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you sure there’s not an eighty-year-old woman hiding in there?”

  His teasing defrosted her sudden freeze. “In this lingerie?” She gestu
red at herself, though he obviously couldn’t see what she meant. “Doubtful.”

  He chuckled and reached over to open a packet of sugar, stirring it into his coffee. Weird. Hadn’t he already drank half of it? Unless he was developing a sweet tooth.

  “Did Daniel Jenkins call?” he asked, and just like that, they were back to work.

  No more singing, drinking or lingerie talk. A good thing, she mused later on at her desk, giving her jingle bell earrings a twirl as she considered the reception area. The tree in corner was done up in silver and blue as requested, the boughs dripping with icicles and each branch weighed down with unique ornaments. There were four small trees in the place, along with a huge towering real fir in the conference room.

  That morning, a grinning Cole had dragged out the box of ornaments from the attic and unveiled them for Van, Des and Wendy. Van and Des had oohed and aahed then rolled their eyes behind his back, but Wendy had been genuinely impressed with the collection. Most were from the multi-pack boxes found at any retail outlet, with a few unusual ones that gave the trees character.

  She sighed and played with her earring again. She and her mom had been forced to leave a lot of their ornaments behind in Tennessee due to the cost of moving, though she’d saved some of her favorites. They were still tucked in tissue paper, waiting for her to get over her holiday blues long enough to unpack them and do up their tree right.

  Her mom needed that. She needed it.

  Until then, she’d vowed to enjoy decorating the office. She and Van had laughed throughout the afternoon, despite this Christmas being a lot different than others in her past. Back when she’d had two healthy parents and a hometown she loved. When she’d had friends and knew interested guys if she wanted to date…or more, if the urge struck.

  Something it was doing now. A lot.

  “Hey girl.” Van popped around the half-wall sectioning off Wendy’s cubicle and grinned. “You still here? I thought you’d be home getting ready by now.”