Turn Up the Heat

by Lori Foster

  “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I have to tell you it was okay. It wasn’t okay, Brian, so we can’t just pick up like you never left. I’m sorry if that’s what you came here looking for. All I can give you is tonight.”

  He watched her for a long moment, studying her eyes, then her mouth, before he finally nodded. “I’ll take tonight.”

  He gave her his hotel name and room number, and then he left, moving down the stairs to the street below. Eve closed the door, leaned against it and slid slowly to the floor.

  This wasn’t happening.

  * * *

  BRIAN LOOKED UP at the stars for a moment, at the crisp white flickering against that deep blackness. He hadn’t seen a Wyoming night sky in two years. There was no filter here. No haze of humid atmosphere to dull the light. But looking up at these stars felt like a memory, and so did hesitating outside Eve’s apartment before walking away.

  How many times had he done that? How many times had he stopped and wondered if he should go back, knock again, pretend he’d forgotten something and then...

  He turned to look back at her door and felt that horrible tug of need, but he walked away like he always had. Only, this time it wasn’t the end of the night.

  Jesus. This couldn’t be happening.

  As he walked toward his hotel, he was so deep in confusion that he knew he was scowling at the people he passed, but he didn’t give a damn.

  He hadn’t known how she’d react to his return. She had a right to be pissed. Of course she was hurt and angry. But he’d hoped that she might still greet him as a friend. He’d even hoped her initial shock would melt into something much warmer. But she’d been so cool to him when he’d turned to see her. Her eyes had swept over his face as if she were trying to place him.

  And he... Jesus, his heart was still pounding so hard he could barely hear the clop of horse hooves as the tourist stagecoach rolled past him and made its slow way around the square.

  Brian ignored it and slipped into the side door of his hotel.

  Seeing her had been like seeing cool running water on a torturously hot day. Relief. That was what she’d looked like. Relief, if he could get close enough. If he could touch her and end the gnawing ache that had lived inside him for two years. More than two years, actually. Since the moment their friendship had pulled him too deep. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but by the time he’d realized the danger, she’d felt like the only real thing in his life. His marriage had been a phantom.

  Shit. He’d had to try one last time. He’d been with Julia almost twenty years.

  They’d been opposites. At first, he’d believed the old adage that opposites attract. She’d made his world exciting. And he’d made hers safe. She could count on him, lean on him, and at first, that had been what she’d needed. But she’d loved drama and passion, and after ten years of steadiness, she’d left.

  They’d tried again. And again. When she’d left him in Jackson and gone back to Raleigh, he’d thought it was the end. Hell, he’d wanted it to be the end, even before he’d met Eve. But he’d tried one more time, because Julia had asked. For the first time, she’d volunteered to try therapy. She’d wanted one more shot. After twenty years of love and history, he’d owed her that.

  Leaving Jackson had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but it had been right. He and Julia had finally learned to speak to each other as adults, even about the stuff that hurt. Even about the most painful truth of all...that their marriage had been over for years. In the end, they’d walked away as friends.

  Which was more than he could say for himself and Eve.

  He’d hurt her badly. But he’d make it up to her. She’d forgive him. She had to, because what would he do if she didn’t?

  Brian let himself into his room. He tossed his jacket over the chair and walked immediately to the window to stare out toward her studio.

  She’d walk that same path soon. She’d skirt around the square and come up to his room and she’d be here.

  This couldn’t be happening, because it was a mistake. He didn’t want to touch her like this, with anger and finality between them. He wanted this to start the way it should have, with all the love and yearning he’d felt for her two years ago.

  He should’ve said no to her ridiculous idea. But his no wouldn’t have mattered, because his body didn’t care about the hows and whys. His body was tight and energized with the knowledge that she’d be here in minutes, and his cock swelled with the anticipation of touching her. Finally.

  Brian couldn’t count the number of times he’d fantasized about it. In prurient ways, certainly, but in smaller moments, too. In quiet moments, when she’d sneak past his distraction with some quiet joke that would catch him by surprise. He’d laugh then, at the unexpected humor, but also at the happiness she brought him, and he’d almost lean toward her. So many times. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss her.

  But he’d never let himself. He’d had to pay his dues. He hadn’t had a choice. And he didn’t have a choice now.

  He couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t possible.

  His hands shook. His heart pounded. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t what he wanted. But he needed it more than life.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE’D SHOWERED AND dressed for the party earlier, but Eve still stripped down and tried on ten different pairs of panties, hoping to find something that would make her feel sexy. It didn’t work. She didn’t own anything scandalous, and she wasn’t twenty anymore, so after a few long minutes of staring hopelessly at her not-quite-taut body, she pulled on a pair of black panties and a matching bra and left it at that. He could close his eyes and imagine something sexier, if that was what he wanted.

  She put on the only little black dress she owned, added the matching heels, then left before she could worry that she looked as if she was trying too hard. This was the one memory she’d have of him, and she’d write it the way she wanted, with his hands sliding soft black fabric off her shoulders.

  And that image was all it took. Her anger fell away and her pulse quickened. She was on her way to Brian’s hotel room. To his bed. To his arms.

  As soon as her heels touched the walk, she turned without hesitation and moved quickly toward the next street. He was only two blocks away. The cold hadn’t even started to sink in when she reached the hotel and stepped into the warmth created by the lobby’s fireplace.

  Eyes averted, she walked straight past the reception desk to the elevator, a little afraid she’d see someone she knew. If she did, what could she say? That she was on her way up to a party? A reunion? Wearing nothing but a little black dress and heels? Eve kept her head down, and nearly jumped into the elevator for the ride to the third floor.

  Would Brian try to talk her out of this? Would he hesitate? If he did, she’d just take off her dress.

  Her mouth went dry at even the thought of being so brazen, but when the elevator doors opened, she stepped determinedly off. She was done with being denied. Done with doing the right thing. Done being careful. Tonight she’d take what she wanted and she’d deal with the consequences tomorrow. But she had to keep moving. If she stopped, if she really thought this through... No. She wouldn’t give this up out of fear.

  She was determined to remember every second of this, but even walking down the hallway felt a little hazy and far away. When she found his door and raised a hand to knock, it was someone else’s hand in someone else’s dream. But when the door opened, there was no doubt whose fantasy this was, because Brian stood there, still angry, but softer somehow. His sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. His hair mussed as if he’d scrubbed his hand through it. He looked as he had so many times with her when he’d been working for hours and was losing the light he wanted.

  Eve’s mouth watered.

  She knew how to get r
id of his tension. She’d always been good at that, but this time, it wouldn’t be about making him laugh. This time she’d distract him with something different.

  His eyes slid down her body as he stepped aside to let her in. She set down her purse and watched him as he edged past her. She had no idea what to do now. She’d instigated this, but all those years of forcing herself never to touch him had trained her muscles. She couldn’t just reach out and press her hand to his chest. She couldn’t step into his arms. So she watched him.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  She whispered, “Thank you,” clutching her hands together as her thoughts dissolved into nervous chatter. She was filled with the truth of how much she wanted him and how much this scared her.

  The room was dim, but the single lamp he’d left on let her see him clearly enough. Despite her heels, he was still inches taller than her, and his wide shoulders made him seem even larger. She wanted to stroke her hands along those muscles. She wanted to clutch them.

  But she surprised herself. When he took a step toward her, she stepped back. That didn’t dissuade him, thank God. “Eve,” he whispered, moving closer, and suddenly the wall was at her back and his body was only a few inches away.

  Instead of touching her, his hands pressed to the wall on either side of her arms. His head ducked, but he didn’t kiss her. Instead, his mouth hovered near her temple. “This is a mistake,” he breathed.

  “I don’t care,” she answered, trembling with the awareness that he was right there. So close. But he didn’t move closer.

  “Eve,” he said again, that one syllable fraught with pain and doubt and helplessness. “Not like this.”

  She tipped her head up, forcing his mouth to brush over her cheek as she turned toward him. “Does it feel like a mistake?” she breathed against his parted lips.

  Brian groaned, and then he kissed her.

  She’d wanted to remember everything, but it was already too much. The taste of him, the heat as their lips parted, the stroke of his tongue, the way his hands clutched her shoulders. He was touching her and she needed every moment, but the only thing her brain registered was pleasure and the hard pulse of her heart beating in every part of her body.

  His tongue stroked hers, over and over. She couldn’t draw enough oxygen to feed her pounding heart, but she didn’t want to break away. She didn’t want this to stop. It was their first kiss, their first taste, and it was already as deep and dark as sex. She moaned into him, tipping her head so she could take him deeper, but he finally gentled the kiss and tasted her more slowly. Her bottom lip, then her top, then a faint kiss on her jaw.

  “God...Eve.” His mouth was at her neck now, kissing, tasting. His shuddering breath chased over her. “You smell so good. Your skin... Christ.”

  Yes. He smelled good, too. Pressed tight against her so she could breathe him in the way she’d always wanted. She was practically panting, and her own frantic need embarrassed her, but she couldn’t stop it. His hands were at her waist, sliding over her curves, and her own hands had finally found their place on his shoulders.

  He was hot and solid, and she stroked him as his mouth set her nerves on fire.

  Chemistry.

  She was more turned-on than she’d been in years. Wet already, and aching and so desperate for more that she moaned when his teeth caught a sensitive spot on her neck.

  His words whispered against her skin. “What the hell is this between us, Eve? You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this. How many times I’ve gotten off to this. You feel so fucking good.”

  She’d thought her nerves were already awake, but her whole body lit up with new brightness at his raw words. He’d thought about her. He’d come to fantasies of her. Joy seemed too innocent a response to that revelation, but it felt that simple, and that good.

  She reached for the top buttons of his shirt and tore them open so she could slide her hands against his bare skin. Joy. Yes. His breath went just as rough as hers.

  He drew back then, just enough that he could look down and watch as she unfastened the rest of the buttons and tugged his shirt free of his jeans. She spread her fingers over his hot chest and his breath broke. She’d always thought his chest hair would be crisp and a little rough, but it was soft under her fingertips. She brushed her mouth over his chest and hummed her satisfaction.

  Her own breath hitched when she felt him reach for the zipper at the nape of her neck. She stopped breathing altogether as he pulled it down and the air of the room touched her back.

  Then his hands, sliding beneath the fabric. Oh, God. God. They were really doing this. Undressing each other. Being together.

  She should have worn something more complicated, because it took only a few seconds and then he was sliding her dress down, just as she’d imagined. But suddenly it was so much. So fast. He was a photographer. He saw beauty every day. He worked with models. Artists. He examined every image with a critical eye. He’d see her the same way, and this moment meant so much that she couldn’t do it.

  But by the time she reached to hold on to her dress, it was already past her hips and falling to the floor.

  He whispered her name and his hands were on her naked hips and he kissed her again, more urgently this time, more deeply. And then his hands slid beneath her panties to clutch her ass, and she forgot her stupid fears. She forgot them because he was hard against her, pressing his hips to hers as his mouth devoured her. When he reached to unfasten her bra, she wasn’t nervous. She was eager and thrilled, because his hands were rough with excitement, and he groaned into her mouth as the bra dropped away and he cupped her breasts.

  This wasn’t about a fantasy for Brian any more than it was for Eve. This was about a need so deep that even fulfilling it hurt. An ache so overwhelming that his heart thundered beneath her hands. She didn’t feel scared anymore. She felt glorious and needed. Triumphant.

  Yes. Yes.

  She unbuttoned his jeans as he pushed her panties down, but she didn’t have a chance to do more. Before she could sneak her hand beneath his underwear, he’d slipped his fingers between her thighs.

  “Jesus,” he cursed as she bit back a cry. Even she was surprised at how wet she was, at how easily his fingers pushed deep inside her.

  She threw her head back at the wild shock of holding him inside her. She tipped her hips toward him, eager for more. “Yes,” she urged as he fucked her with his fingers. “Please.”

  She opened her eyes to find him looking down, watching as one hand teased her nipple and one worked at her pussy. She felt a distant shock at her own boldness as she arched her back and rocked her hips into his fingers, but it was worth it just to see him so undone. This cool, confident man transformed into a hungry animal, teeth bared, eyes narrowed and glinting, the sharp edges of his cheekbones flushed with need. For her. Just like she’d always wanted.

  He caught her watching him and slid his hand up from her breast to cradle the base of her skull and pull her in for a deep kiss. He turned her in the same motion.

  Eve gasped at the sudden vulnerability of not having the wall at her back. The air stirred across her skin, reminding her of how naked she was, but before she had time to adjust, Brian laid her on the bed. He kissed down her neck, over her chest, until his tongue circled her nipple. When he sucked, she cried out and grasped his hair to hold him close.

  Every sensation was a revelation. The draw of his mouth at her nipple, the slide of his hands down her sides... It all felt better than it should. Better than should be possible. And it was still too much. She couldn’t take it all in. The rough feel of his denim-clad legs between her knees, the slide of his hair between her fingers, even the faint scratch of his stubble against her breast. She wanted it all. She needed to remember it all.

  Raising her head, she watched his tongue circle the tight bud of her nipple, then watc
hed in tormented awe as his teeth scraped over her, so white against her pink flesh. He sucked again, harder this time, and Eve growled her approval at the small pain he drew out. His hands dug into her ribs as if he couldn’t stop himself from holding too tight.

  Yes, she wanted to say as he moved to torture her other nipple. Yes, more. More. More teeth. More sucking. More sweet, circling tongue. She twisted her fingers in his hair, so he could feel the bite of pain that his teeth pressed into her. His hand slid down to her hip and then between her legs.

  Now the yes was pulled from her throat on a dark cry as she pushed her hips toward him. He stroked her clit, lightly at first, then more insistently as she rocked against him. “Brian,” she moaned, as she had so many times in her solitary bed. “Brian, yes. Yes. That feels so good.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “I know it does. You’re so damn hot, Eve.”

  She whimpered when he pulled away from her, but then she realized he was standing between her knees to toe off his shoes and finish undressing, and she was happy to watch as his shoulders flexed and the muscles of his arms bunched. He slid his briefs off with his jeans and... Oh, God. Oh, God, his cock was thick and straight and hard for her, and she almost sobbed with need as he reached behind him to grab a condom from the dresser.

  She wanted to taste him, smell him, feel him in her mouth, but he was already setting his knee between her thighs. She scooted higher on the bed as he opened the condom.

  “Wait,” she breathed. “Wait. I want to...” Reaching for him, she curled her fingers around his shaft, nearly groaning with relief as he jerked in her grasp. “I want to touch you, Brian.”

  “No. I can’t....I can’t hold out.”

  “Please,” she whispered. “Let me touch you.” She stroked him, thrilling at how thick he was. He’d push inside her soon. She wanted that so damn much. But first, she wanted to feel the silkiness of his skin, the way it moved slightly with her stroking, the way he pushed toward her when she squeezed.