Red Hot Candy (22 All-New Delicious Romance Books by Best-Selling Authors about Alpha Males, Billionaires, Cowboys, and More for Your Summer Reading) (Red Hot Boxed Sets)

by Dani Dundee

  Then again… I’ve known him for all of two months. How do I decide what out of character is for him?

  I bet it has to do with the past he won’t tell me about. Why else would he avoid the topic every time I ask? Although doubting him makes me feel like a horrible person, I can’t help wondering. About his childhood. About the foster families and group homes where he lived.

  It never ceases to amaze me that he can laugh and love, that he is capable of feeling so much without ever having had a real family to call his own. Without the affection and acceptance that comes with it.

  Sometimes I sense the reason he doesn’t want to talk about it all is that he’s embarrassed. I couldn’t care less about what went before, except it seems to be hurting him, like a thorn lodged deep in his flesh, infected, festering.

  And, to be honest, deep inside of me, I’m scared shitless that he will decide he can’t do it. That he can’t go on living like nothing happened, that this brave, solid front he’s putting up is just that: a façade, and that he’s about to shatter behind it, go to pieces.

  Since I started working with the mom of Asher Devlin’s girlfriend at the National Runaway Safeline, I’ve heard horror stories about kids growing up in appalling conditions and about the terrible psychological scars they end up with. I wish I’d been there for him back then to keep him safe from harm, to surround him with love. All I want…

  If only I could shush the voice of doubt that tells me I’m not seeing the real Micah, but a facet of him. That he may wake up tomorrow and say he can’t love me. I imagine things and assume things, but truth is, I don’t really know anything about him – whereas he knows everything about me.

  I sigh. All I want is to be with him, but what if it isn’t enough for him?

  *

  “Seth not in?” I ask as Micah unlocks the door and flips on the lights, illuminating the small living room. Seth is his roommate, a nice guy all around, except I’d like us to be alone, to get Micah to talk.

  He shakes his head, snags my hand and pulls me inside, closing the door behind us.

  Good.

  Yet I’m worried. I fully expect him to drag me to the sofa, sit me down and tell me something awful – like, I don’t think I can do this anymore, Ev. We’re done, Ev. I don’t really love you.

  God.

  But instead, he backs me up against the door, grabs both my hands and slides them up until they are pressed over my head, against the polished wood. As my chest rises in a shallow, shocked breath, he presses his muscled body to me and crashes his mouth to mine, his tongue slipping between my parted lips.

  My body responds before I even know it, my eyes falling shut, my breasts tingling, my insides heating, one leg lifting to wrap around his. He tastes so good, feels so good that my mind goes blank like every time. In a tiny corner of my mind, red flags are wagging – we were supposed to talk, figure out the issue – but when he rubs his hard-on between my legs, all thought is gone in a flash of white-hot pleasure.

  “Say my name,” he whispers against my mouth, and it’s not the first time he’s asked this of me as we writhe together. “Say my name, Ev…”

  I blink and frown, breaking the kiss to pull back and take a good look at him. “Why?” Does he think I’m seeing someone else when I close my eyes?

  His lashes lower, hiding his eyes. His breath hitches.

  Alarm bells go off inside my head. What the hell is going on?

  But he buries his face in my neck, biting lightly, distracting me again. He releases my hands in favor of slipping them under my dress, lifting it off me, and I let him. He draws in an uneven breath, his gaze rolling over my yellow, lacy bra that does little to hide my pebbled nipples. It’s the way he looks at me, the blue of his eyes darkening to a midnight sky, that gets me every time.

  “Jesus, Ev,” he breathes, running his hands over my breasts, then underneath, cupping them in his large hands. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world.”

  My heart melts. These can’t be the words of a man about to break up with me, right? Though, what do I know about break-ups?

  Then he kneads my nipples with his thumbs, his eyes smoldering, and I moan, lost in sensation. I wonder what he’ll do – I can never predict his moods – and my knees buckle when he bends his head and kisses the mounds of my breasts. He lowers himself a little for better access, and I think he might go to his knees, taste me then and there.

  But he releases my breasts and instead rips my panties down and away, dropping them to the floor. Before I recover, he reaches for his fly, pulls it down and reaches inside his briefs.

  “I want to be inside you,” he murmurs. “Need to, Ev.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Please.”

  It’s going to be fast and hard. I like it when he loses control like that, when he can’t wait to enter me. He pulls out his cock, rock hard and flushed, glistening with precum and strokes it twice, before he looks into my eyes.

  Waiting for me to signal I want this, that I haven’t changed my mind.

  I’m not even sure I know how to say no to him – not sure why I’d ever want to – but it warms me that he always makes sure I’m on board with whatever he plans. Always makes sure I have as much pleasure as possible.

  Though right now I wish he’d hurry up. Toeing off my sandals, I grab his arm and press my mouth to his, lick his lips, and he gasps. He presses against my folds, pushes into me, slowly at first, then faster, slipping deep inside me.

  We both moan as he buries himself all the way, as I open up to receive him, my leg hooking higher on his thigh.

  Oh my God, he feels so good, stretching me, a burning rush of need hitting me low in my belly at the mounting pressure. My hips are already rolling of their own volition, and he grabs them to stop me, hissing.

  “Slow down, love,” he whispers, and I try.

  Then he lifts my other leg over his hip and grabs my ass, lifting me – entering me even deeper, and my eyes almost roll back in my head with the pleasure. I pant, my arms somehow finding their way around his neck, my legs tensing around his slim hips. His heart beats wildly against my own, his arms tense and his jaw clenches as he tries to regain control.

  But maybe what he needs to do is lose control. Let go. Because, the thought returns, we need to talk and he’s holding back, doing everything in his power to put the conversation off.

  And it’s working, oh God, it’s working…

  He steps back, still buried in me, and each movement makes his cock shift inside me. I catch my breath on a moan and hold on for dear life as he makes his slow way to the sofa.

  He manages to lay me down without pulling out of me and settles between my legs, his face screwed up in concentration. Sensations play over his beautiful face – need, pleasure, some discomfort. He’s so hard it has to hurt.

  “Too handsome to be a keeper…”

  “Are you sure being on the pill is safe?” he asks. Always careful, as if afraid one wrong step might end the world.

  As if his world ended many times before, and this is his last chance. His last life.

  “I’m sure.”

  He hikes my legs higher up and pushes into me, a groan escaping his clenched teeth. “Ev… Say my name, Ev…” He slides his hand down, between us, between my folds, and finds my clit. His thumb circles it, teases it.

  “I won’t,” I gasp. “Won’t say your name. I know who you are.”

  “Do you, really?”

  Before I can ask what the hell he means by that, even as I try to ignore the fact his question is the one I’ve been asking myself all day today, he presses down on my clit while sliding in and out of me, and my back arches off the couch. Pressure is building so fast I grab onto his shoulders not to drown.

  He rocks inside me, his head bowed, sweat gleaming on his brow, his blue eyes luminous behind lowered lashes.

  He takes my breath away.

  Micah…

  My orgasm slams into me, and I cry out, clenching around him, my leg muscles tighte
ning and my heels digging into the backs of his denim-clad thighs. Pleasure rips me up and I moan as I contract around his cock again and again.

  I slump bonelessly on the couch, trying to draw air into my lungs, my legs sliding down to rest on the cushions. His lips part on a shaky exhale as I relax. He’s still rock hard inside me, his stomach clenched so tight I can count his impressive abs, his arms shaking at my sides.

  “Hey. Come here.” I still have one arm around his neck and I pull him down until our noses touch. He shudders, his erection twitching inside me, and I have to bite on my lip to swallow a moan as echoes of pleasure ricochet inside my belly.

  “Ev…” His voice is raspier than usual, his eyes heavy-lidded.

  “You need to tell me what is on your mind.” I kiss his lips lightly, pull back when he bends his head, going after my mouth.

  “You are on my mind.”

  “I bet.” I lift my hips a little, tightening around his shaft, and he groans deep in his throat. “But you brought me here to talk.”

  “How do you know that’s what I brought you here for?”

  I smile at him. “Because you haven’t denied it.”

  “Damn.” He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth lifting.

  “I know you, Micah Owens.”

  Suddenly he raises himself off me and pulls out in one swift movement that has me gasping. “And I told you, you don’t know me.”

  My eyes narrow. If there’s one thing I learned in this past year is to fight for what I think is important, and he is the most important person in the world to me. I am a fighter, and many may be fooled by my small stature, my copper curls and big eyes.

  But Micah should have seen it coming. By the shock on his face as I push him back and straddle him, he didn’t.

  Well, tough. He should know me better by now.

  ***

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MICAH

  Talk. Christ, yeah we need to talk, but I can’t. Can’t risk it. Can’t tell her. I need a minute, need to lock myself up in the shower, cool down, think.

  But she doesn’t let me. Maybe I pushed her too far with my stupid shit these days, and even more so tonight, because in a flash she’s pushed me down on my back on the sagging couch and climbed on top of me.

  Whoa.

  Not that I mind Ev sitting on me. Especially when she starts tugging on my T-shirt, and I oblige in a daze, letting her pull it off me. I let it drop to the floor and her small hands wander down my chest, reaching the small peaks of my nipples, pinching them, then continuing down as I process the small pain that echoes in my aching cock.

  A shudder runs through me. My dick twitches, bobbing against my stomach, leaking as she drags down my jeans and briefs. With a determined expression on her small, heart-shaped face, she pulls everything down, but not off, leaving the material bunched around my knees.

  Wait, is she trapping me? Why, the little…

  She grabs my cock and guides it back between her pretty legs, into her slick warmth, and I moan her name, reaching for her. I grip her hips as she lowers herself on me, inch by torturous inch, and my mouth falls open, my jaw slack with the pleasure pooling in my groin.

  “Tell me,” she whispers. “Talk to me.”

  I blink at her, trying to force my brain to work. Fuck, no. Not like this. I’m not ready. I start to sit up, but she brushes her mouth over mine, leans over me until her luscious breasts are almost spilling out of her bra.

  Christ. My mouth goes dry and my heart races, out of control. My hips snap up, and she captures my groan with her soft lips.

  “Tell me what it is I don’t know about you,” she whispers, licking my mouth, her sweet scent flooding my senses, intoxicating. “What you think is so important you’re afraid to tell me.”

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

  “You don’t really want to know,” I say through clenched teeth, even if the words want out. The knowledge is crushing me.

  “Yes, I do,” she says and kisses me again. “I do want to know everything about you.”

  “Better off not knowing,” I say, or think, not sure which, my body and mind on overload. “Trust me, Ev, it’s better that way.”

  “I love you,” she says, and reaches back, unclasping her bra. Her soft tits spill out and sway in front of me, tipped with rosy nipples. I want to feel them, touch them. I try to sit up again, and again she pushes me back. She bends, sliding her tits over my chest, her nipples hard and dragging on my skin.

  My blood is boiling under my skin. My balls ache, the pressure reaching critical mass. I need to move, grab her, rock inside her until I come.

  “Why are you so worried now?” she whispers, her voice winding around me, warm and soft like toffee, binding me. Spell-binding me. “What happened?”

  “I want you,” I gasp as she rolls her hips, “to move in with me.”

  A pause, a beat of silence and stillness that makes me want to howl.

  Then her eyes soften. Her mouth curls into a tiny smile, and she finally starts moving. She’s riding me, her core rippling around my dick, milking it, and the pressure behind my balls snaps.

  I shout out her name as I come, my hips jerking, my grip on her bruising. My head falls back on the cushions, and I surrender. Pleasure rips through my body, races up my spine, swallows me down until I can’t breathe. I’m shaking and can’t seem to stop.

  Holy shit.

  Instead of chewing me out, she put me into a post-orgasmic coma, melted me, took my heart into her hands and now she’s waiting for me to speak.

  Dammit. There’s no way back. I have to tell her.

  I should have known she’d fight back, that she wouldn’t give up, that she’s strong. So much stronger and better than I ever was or hope to be. And dammit, she’s about to find that out for herself, so I pull her down and crush her to my chest, hold on tight, and just to put off the moment of truth just a while longer.

  *

  “Micah…” Ev squirms on my chest, then plants her hands on my pecs and sits up. “Did you mean it?”

  “Mean what?” I tug on her, trying to keep her there. She’s soft and warm and smells amazing. I love the way her copper hair is sticking up all over the place, the way her eyes glow. The way her round tits move softly with her movements.

  “That you want me to move in with you.”

  I swallow hard. “I do. Goddammit, I want it. But I swear to God, I’ll understand if you don’t.”

  “What?” She slaps my chest lightly and frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want to, silly?”

  I press my lips together. Here it comes. “Because…” I lick my lips. My heart is pounding, trying to break free of my chest. “Because you should fucking know who you’re moving in with. You might not wanna do it, when you find out.”

  “Seriously?” She tilts her head to the side, and damn, I shouldn’t get sidetracked by her glorious hair and lush tits, but hey, I’m a guy and I can’t help staring.

  Mine. She’s mine, unless I lose her with the truth. But she deserves to know.

  “What is it you’re worried about?” she whispers, soft again, sweet.

  It makes my chest go tight. “My past.”

  My goddamn past, haunting me when I’m happy. Especially when I’m happy. That’s when I’m most scared.

  “I know about your past.” She huffs. “Why should I have a problem with it?”

  My mouth is hanging open. I shut it. “What do you mean…? What the fuck do you know about it?”

  She shrugs, a light roll of rounded shoulders. “I know you grew up in foster care. And you have nightmares.”

  “What…?” Shit. My mouth is dry. I clear my throat. “What about the nightmares?”

  She leans forward, and my eyes follow the rolling movement of her tits. I’ve slipped out of her heat, but I’m growing hard again.

  “Micah…” She grips my chin, forces my eyes up to hers. “I know bad things happened to you, okay? And I am so angry.”

  “Angry.” Heat spreads up my
neck, and I am not even sure what the hell I’m feeling right now. “Why?”

  “I’m angry at those who hurt you when you were too young to defend yourself – defend your body and your heart.”

  Dammit, I really can’t breathe. I shove her off me none too gently and swing my legs off the couch, bent over, struggle to draw air.

  “Hey…” She sits up behind me. “Micah.”

  “I’m selfish, Ev.” I barely feel her hand drawing circles on my back. “I hurt people, too.”

  A moment of silence, and fuck, this isn’t getting any easier.

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “I put myself first.” I force the words out. “I’m not like you, Ev, giving everything up for others. You’re… special.” I rub a hand over my mouth. “I’m not.”

  “What are you talking about?” I can hear it in her voice. She’s starting to freak out. About damn time.

  And yet I wish I didn’t have to tell her.

  “I did bad things, Ev. In the group homes where I lived.”

  “Bad things.” Her voice is so low I can barely hear it. “Like what?”

  “Like…” Fuck. My hand shakes when I let it hang between my knees. I clench it into a fist to hide the tremors. “Once I hid under a bed while three bullies kicked another kid unconscious. In the third or fourth group home I was sent to,” I swallow hard, “fuck I can’t remember which, I punched a boy who was trying to take my blanket. There was no heating, it was so damn cold. I just punched him and broke his nose.”

  Jesus. Just remembering it all makes my teeth rattle.

  Ev’s hand stops moving on my back. It’s still there, resting between my shoulder blades, a warm center sending heat through my bones.

  “What else?” she asks, a sharp edge to her otherwise quiet voice.

  “Two orderlies in the first group home I stayed… They’d beat us up. One of those times, I caught quite a few punches in my ribs and fell down. I pretended to be out, let them beat the other kid up. A girl.” I try to swallow. This time I can’t, a knot in my throat. “They beat her senseless, and I saved myself. I let her down. I just saved myself, Ev…”