Burned (Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Harlequin)

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘It’s history.’ And finally it felt as if it was. I’d held the dream in my head for so long, held on to the emotions. I hadn’t allowed anyone to mention his name, because I’d been so embarrassed by how needy I’d been, but I could see I’d been too hard on myself. Life had felt tough and I’d latched on to the person who had made it easier. Accepting that felt like a step forward.

  I felt lighter. Stronger. More in control.

  I knew who I was and what I wanted and I wanted him. Not because I felt vulnerable or needed the attention but because he was still the hottest guy I’d ever met and that seemed like a good enough reason to me. And it didn’t matter what his reasons were, because I wasn’t planning on letting my emotions in on this date.

  I suppose we want different things at different times of our lives. At eighteen I’d been desperate for security. Now?

  His hand tightened on my arm. ‘Do you want me to take you home?’

  I knew if I said yes, he’d take me to the car, drive me back to Notting Hill and that would be the end of it.

  ‘No. I want you.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. But just for sex.’

  His eyes darkened. ‘Rosie—’

  ‘I just want to be clear about that. I don’t want anything else. I don’t expect you to prop me up when I feel low, I don’t expect you to hold me when I’m sad and I don’t expect you to fight my battles. But we have chemistry—we always have—and good sex has been thin on the ground.’ It had been nonexistent but I wasn’t ready to admit that. ‘I’m tired of dating guys I have nothing in common with in the hope we can have fun in bed. I’ll just take the fun in bed and forget the dating.’

  Hayley had done the same thing with Nico. Of course, that hadn’t quite turned out the way she’d planned but I wasn’t going to think about that now. I was different. It wouldn’t happen to me. For a start, I was already immune. If you had a large dose of something, you usually didn’t get it again. I’d already caught Hunter. I told myself I couldn’t catch him twice.

  ‘Can I use your shower?’ I picked up the bag I’d brought with me and followed his directions.

  ‘Help yourself to towels and anything else you need. I’ll make us something to eat.’

  It was a ridiculously intimate exchange for two people who up until a couple of weeks ago hadn’t seen each other for five years.

  I stripped off and stood under the water, aware of the water flowing over my naked skin. I couldn’t stop thinking of him and I stayed under the water longer than I intended. It felt symbolic, as if I were washing away the past. When I joined him in the kitchen, I could see he’d showered, too. His hair was still wet. His feet were bare.

  I was wearing my favourite pair of skinny jeans and a pink T-shirt. I wasn’t dressed up, but neither was he. On the other hand, Hunter looked good in anything. Hayley was right. He was gorgeous. Smoking hot, and if I had my way he wasn’t going to be wearing clothes for the rest of the night.

  It was time to get Hunter out of my system.

  Keen not to look too rabid and desperate, I slid onto a tall stool while he pulled a bottle out of the fridge.

  I’d expected it to be wine but it was champagne and I jumped slightly as he popped the cork and then watched, fascinated, as he poured it skilfully without spilling a single drop and handed me a glass. His fingers brushed mine and I shivered.

  ‘What are we celebrating?’

  ‘Our first date.’ His eyes gleamed and I grinned and raised the glass.

  ‘Sounds good to me. So if this is our first date, you’d better tell me about yourself. Tell me about Thailand.’ I sipped and felt the bubbles fizz in my mouth.

  Hayley and I only ever drank champagne at Christmas, usually when someone else had brought it, and we usually managed to lose half the contents over the floor when we poured.

  It tasted delicious.

  ‘Thailand was both brutal and brilliant.’ He cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them efficiently while I watched.

  He told me about his experiences training with the best and if anyone else had been talking, I would have been hanging on to every word because training in Thailand was a dream for me, but I was finding it impossible to concentrate. I tried focusing on his mouth but that didn’t work either, because all I could think of was how it felt when we kissed.

  I dragged my gaze from his mouth and watched him whisking the eggs. I didn’t think that could be erotic, but turned out I was wrong about that, too.

  There’s something about a man’s forearms I find really sexy, especially Hunter’s. They were strongly muscled and male. Dark hair dusted skin bronzed by his trip to the Far East. He was powerfully built and supremely fit, every inch of him hard and honed.

  As he reached for the salt, I saw the muscles in his shoulders flex. He must have felt me looking at him, because he glanced across and his gaze locked on mine.

  He stilled and I tried to look as if I’d been paying attention to every word but I hoped he hadn’t been in the middle of asking me a question, because I didn’t have a clue what he’d said.

  Slowly, he put the salt down.

  My heart was pounding like fists against a boxing bag.

  We both moved at the same time.

  I slid off the stool and he dropped the salt.

  We collided in the middle of the kitchen.

  I slammed him back and his shoulders crashed hard against the fridge as he ripped at my T-shirt, tearing it over my head.

  ‘Naked,’ he growled. ‘I need you naked.’

  I needed him naked, too, but I was beyond speaking.

  His mouth was hungry on mine. His fingers bit into my thighs as he pulled me against him. I could feel the hard, throbbing length of him and his hands were jammed in my hair.

  It was rough and crazy. We were locked together and my limbs felt as if they were melting. He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around him. He crossed the kitchen in a couple of strides and lowered me to the counter. My legs were still wrapped around him and I heard the raw rasp of his breathing as he struggled for control.

  He stood for a moment, his legs between mine, his hands on my thighs trapping me. Then he lifted his hand and stroked my damp hair back from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. For such a powerfully built man, he was incredibly gentle. That probably shouldn’t have surprised me, because martial arts is all about control and his control was absolute. And yes, that was sexy. There’s nothing as erotic as leashed power and Hunter was all about leashed power.

  I could tell he was fighting what he was feeling.

  His fingers lingered on my face and he tilted my chin so I was forced to look him in the eyes. My stomach swooped.

  I knew this was a turning point.

  I knew he’d paused because he wanted me to be sure. He wanted me to have a moment of calm in this stormy, crazy world we created together.

  Whether we carried on or not was my choice.

  And it was the easiest choice I’d ever made. This moment had been inevitable from the moment he’d walked back into my life.

  I lifted my hand and closed my fingers over his wrist, feeling strength and sinew. Then I turned my head and ran my tongue over his palm.

  I’ve no idea what signal he’d been waiting for, but clearly that was enough, because he lifted his other hand, cupped my face and lowered his forehead to mine.

  The anticipation was almost killing me.

  The ache in my pelvis was so intense I had to struggle not to wriggle on the counter. For several seconds he just looked at me, and I looked at him, wondering how long I could keep this up without ripping his clothes off.

  Just when I thought I was going to have to abandon dignity and beg, he slid his hand behind my head and brought his mouth down on mine.

  This tim
e there was less of the uncontrolled crazy and more of the deliberate. His kiss was slow, sure and insanely sexy, A strange weakness spread through me, the craving instant and total. If any man knew how to kiss, it was Hunter. I moaned and parted my lips against his, inviting more, offering more. Heat uncoiled deep inside me and spread through my body. My limbs felt shaky and useless. His grip on my face tightened, I felt the erotic slide of his tongue against mine and I lifted my hands to his arms, resting my hands on his rock-hard biceps.

  I’d never been with a guy as strong as Hunter. Not that it should make a difference, because it’s not as if he used that strength when we were having sex. On the contrary, he controlled it ruthlessly, held himself in check, but there was something about knowing he was doing that that was deeply sexy. He was all man, from the top of his glossy hair to the soles of his bare feet.

  He curved an arm round my back, holding me firmly, and the other slid to my breast.

  I wasn’t wearing a bra, because frankly, there wasn’t much point. The rough pads of his fingers grazed my nipple and sensation shot through me. Just a touch, a simple touch, and yet already I was desperate. The pleasure was dark and exciting, the intensity just a little scary.

  He kept his mouth on mine, explored my mouth with ruthless control, but I could feel that control slipping. I could feel the change in him, feel the ravenous hunger that made his kiss a little rougher, a little harder and I didn’t mind, because I felt the same way. Something happened when we were together. Something that, for me, had never happened with anyone else.

  Without lifting his mouth from mine he dropped his hands to the counter either side of me, caging me. I could feel him through the thick fabric of his jeans, rock-hard and ready. I heard myself moan and slid my hands round his back and under his shirt. My hands made contact with sleek male skin and rippling muscle. I ground myself into him, heard him curse softly and then he was lifting me off the counter and unzipping my jeans. It took a couple of attempts because his hands weren’t quite steady and my jeans were glued to me but somehow that made it all the more exciting. I sensed that he was right on the edge of control and I loved the fact it wasn’t just me who felt this way. And then I was naked, my jeans on the floor with the rest of my clothes, and he lifted me back onto the kitchen counter. I gasped as the cool surface touched my bare bottom. I was wondering what he had in mind when he straddled the stool in front of me. His eyes were dark, hooded and fixed on me. Holding my thighs apart with his hands, he finally broke eye contact and lowered his mouth to my inner thigh.

  The contrast between the cold of the surface and the heat of his mouth made me moan. I felt his tongue trace the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh. Everything he did was full of explicit promise and my insides reached melting point in two seconds flat. I needed him inside me, right then, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to oblige. Instead he proceeded to torture me with pleasure. He explored every single part of me except that one place that was desperate for his touch.

  ‘Hunter...’ I moaned his name, thinking that I might have to kill him if he didn’t put me out of my misery soon.

  His tongue trailed maddeningly close to that part of me and I tried to shift my hips but his hands clamped tight on my thighs, holding me trapped and still so that I was totally at his mercy.

  ‘Please—please...’ It was more of a moan than coherent speech but he must have got the message, because finally I felt his fingers part me, felt his tongue dip inside me, caressing with unerring accuracy and wicked skill until I was almost sobbing with the sheer overload of pleasure. I was so close, so close, my hunger for him wild and out of control, but he held me on the edge of it, refusing to give me what I needed.

  Through the pounding of blood in my ears I heard the scrape of the stool on the tiled floor as he stood up, a crash as it fell, but neither of us took any notice. I don’t think we would have noticed if the roof had fallen in, because the only thing that mattered to us right there and then was what we were doing to each other.

  His mouth was on mine and he was kissing me with raw, sensual demand. Finally he let go of my hips, but only so that he could pull a condom out of his pocket. I tried to help, but that simply slowed things down and I heard him curse softly as he gently pushed my fumbling fingers out of the way and dealt with it himself.

  His mouth was still on mine and he sank his hands beneath me, hauled me off the counter so that my legs were wrapped around his waist and sank into me with a deep thrust. I dug my nails hard into the thick muscle of his shoulders. I’d forgotten how big he was and just for a moment I wondered how this was all going to work, but I was so wet, so ready for him, it was as if we’d been designed to fit perfectly together. My body tightened around his and he groaned deep in his throat, an earthy primal sound that told me everything I needed to know about the way he was feeling. And I was feeling the same way. I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning in sensation, knowing I’d never, ever felt like this before, not even the first time we were together.

  He just stayed without moving and I could feel the thickness of him, the strength and power deep inside me. I rested my forehead against his and our eyes held. That connection was every bit as intimate as the merging of our bodies. I had no idea how he was managing to hold back, because I was ready to explode. I discovered that anticipation could be painful. That needing someone could drive me almost to screaming pitch. And then he withdrew and thrust deep again and after that, control ceased to exist for either of us. He filled me, drove into me, dominated me, until the world outside ceased to exist and the only thing that mattered was what we shared. His mouth was hot and skilled, each forceful thrust of his body sending me closer and closer to ecstasy. Sex between us had always been good but never, ever had it been like this. We climaxed together, the pleasure a relentless, overpowering rush that consumed us both and left us fighting for air.

  Holy crap.

  My arms were locked around his shoulders, now slick with sweat, and I felt the scrape of stubble as he dragged his mouth from mine and kissed my neck, his breathing rough and uneven.

  I closed my eyes, trying to find my sense of balance.

  A faint flicker of unease rippled beneath the soporific pleasure that followed the storm.

  I’d told myself this was just sex. But there was no ‘just’ anything when I was with Hunter. Everything was intense and exaggerated and the whole lethal mix of the man and my feelings threatened more than my equilibrium.

  I heard him inhale.

  ‘That was...’ He stopped midway through the sentence, only I knew in his case it was because he was struggling.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How long since—?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  I waited for him to say something but he didn’t. I waited for him to put me down, but he didn’t do that either. Instead he eased away from me, but only so that he could shift my position slightly and grab the champagne and glasses—with one hand. Don’t try this at home. Then he carried me out of the kitchen.

  It was a bit caveman.

  Still wrapped around him, I pressed my mouth to his face. ‘You Tarzan, me Jane.’

  ‘Hi, Jane. Want to get naked with me?’

  ‘I think we already did that bit. Where are we going?’

  ‘I’m going to show you my loincloth.’

  We were both laughing but even laughter didn’t lessen the sexual high, and then we were in his bedroom and he set me down on the bed, which was a relief because my legs felt so weak I wasn’t sure they’d hold me if he’d expected me to stand.

  Somehow he managed to put the champagne and the glasses down without spilling anything and turned to face me.

  ‘This time,’ he said slowly, ‘we’re going to do it properly.’

  I wondered what he thought we’d just done.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  His bedroom faced o
ver the river and I could see the London Eye in the distance. I imagined all the tourists in those glass pods training their binoculars on the Houses of Parliament and Buckingham Palace and catching sight of Hunter naked in his apartment. He was more impressive than any London landmark—but he didn’t offer two-for-one tickets, so you can forget any ideas about increasing visitor numbers.

  I sat on his bed, naked apart from the pink T-shirt, and he was still dressed.

  I believed in equality. ‘Take your clothes off.’

  That made him smile. ‘I hoped you might do it for me.’

  ‘That works for me. What did you mean when you said we were going to do it properly?’

  He topped up our glasses. ‘We’re going to take our time. We have five years to catch up on, Ninja.’

  Despite all my protests, the name made my insides melt.

  It was personal.

  It was ours.

  Something of the past that locked us together and made this more than a mindless sexual encounter. Nothing could change the fact we had history.

  He handed me a glass and I sat up on his bed and took it. I’m not much of a drinker generally, because I’m so serious about training. It didn’t take more than a few gulps before I could feel a warmth slowly spreading through my limbs. Or maybe it was being close to him.

  Keeping his eyes on me, he dragged off his shirt.

  My gaze slid upward to his shoulders, power-packed muscle. He’d always had a good body, but the years and intense training had added definition.

  His jeans were undone at the waist and a line of dark hair guided the eye downward.

  My mouth was dry and I took a mouthful of champagne and then put the glass down and shifted across the bed so I was eye level with the thick ridge of his erection, which was as big as the rest of him.