Hearts On Fire (Heart's Revenge Book 2)

by Jaimes, Cole

  “I would love that,” she says. “But before we do that, I…I just want to say thank you.”

  “Oh?”

  “For dinner, and for…for the gift you sent to me.” It looks like this is really hard for her to get out, but she perseveres. “You carved it yourself, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “It’s beautiful. No one’s ever made anything for me by hand like that before.”

  “It was my pleasure. It seemed to fit you. Wild and untamable.”

  She laughs quietly. “Is that how you see me?”

  “Yes. A little broken, too. Come on.”

  She doesn’t object to Bladerunner. She shifts around on the couch for a good twenty minutes, pulling at the hem of her dress before I realize she’s uncomfortable, though. That dress of hers is hot but it’s also super short. I don’t bother to pause the film. I get up and slip into my room, where I grab a t-shirt and a pair of my sweatpants, and then I head back to the couch and place them between us on the cushion. “You know. Just in case you feel like getting comfortable.”

  She gives me a skeptical look. “Comfortable? That’s super smooth, Callahan.”

  “If I were trying to put moves on you, Essie, I wouldn’t be trying to tempt you into a pair of sweatpants now, would I? I’d want you to stay in that ridiculously short dress so I could perv on your fantastic legs.”

  She thinks about this, scowling at me, though trying to hide a small smile, and then she scoops up the clothes and disappears into the bathroom to change. When she comes back, her hair’s been gathered into a messy bun and my oversized clothes are swamping her slender frame. She looks incredible.

  “Now I look like a homeless person,” she informs me.

  “If homeless people looked as good as you do right now, sweetheart, I’d have dated more of them by now.”

  She sits back down beside me, this time closer than before, and I make my move immediately. I’m not sitting here like a love struck teenager for another hour and half until the movie ends. No way. I throw my arm over her shoulders and I pull her to me, so that her head is resting against my shoulder. She doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t refuse to make contact. Fifteen minutes later, she’s nestled into my side, her hand resting on my stomach, and I’m doing my best not to start stroking my fingers against her ribcage.

  I can tell the very moment she starts to drift. She doesn’t mean to, I know that, but she clearly can’t fight the exhaustion that hits her as we sit quietly in the dark. That black and pink dress was designed to do one thing: excite and arouse. She wanted power over me. And now, in falling asleep, she’s failed. She’s given me power. She’s so vulnerable right now. I’m willing to bet she fought so hard to stay awake, to not give in, but she lost the battle.

  And so I watch the rest of the film, not really seeing the screen or paying attention as the story unfolds, only feeling the weight of her body pressed against mine and the slow up and down of her ribcage as she breathes deeply, and I find myself wishing that we could stay here like this forever.

  Things aren’t going to be this peaceful for long. Things will be stormy, and frustrating and hard, but right now everything just feels perfect.

  Essie wakes up when the credits roll. “Are you tired?” I whisper. “We can go to bed.”

  She sits up a little, stretching like a cat, and then gives me a sleepy, hesitant smile. She says nothing, but I can tell just by looking at her that she wants me to kiss her. She won’t make the first move this time, and yet she’s waiting to see what I will do. So I do what she won’t.

  The second my mouth is pressed up against hers, it’s like someone’s just flipped a light switch, sending a fierce current of energy racing through us, connecting us. She kisses me back, her hand moving behind my head, fingers curling in my hair, pulling me toward her, and she kisses me deeply.

  I don’t know how much time goes by—could be seconds, maybe minutes. Time becomes a lazy, hazy thing, and the two of us sink into the kiss, letting it consume us. We are aware of nothing but each other, affected by nothing but each other, blind to anything but each other. And then I realize she’s crying. A sobbing hiccup escapes her mouth, and I pull back. My hands, which were holding the sides of her face, are now wet.

  “Hey.” I use my thumbs to gently wipe away her tears. “What’s the matter?”

  She can only look at me and cry, though, and it doesn’t seem to matter how many times I wipe her cheeks, the tears still come. I pull her to me, and she turns her face into my neck and cries. I hold her, rubbing her back, whispering shhhh. I think about the things she’s told me, the things that I know about her. Her brother was the only person who ever looked out for her, the only person who had always been there for her. She thought she’d be able to count on him being there for her forever, and now he’s not.

  “Shhh. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here.”

  She buries her face into my chest and cries, shaking her head over and over, like she’s disagreeing with me, telling me that no, it won’t be okay. Never again will it be okay. Her sobs start to subside. Eventually her shoulders stop shaking, her breathing slowing and evening out. She clings to me a little longer, sniffing, and I just hold her because it’s what she needs. “I mean it, you know,” I whisper. “I am here, Essie. You don’t have to be alone.”

  She lifts her face to look at me, her eyes wide, and then she nods slowly. I tilt her chin back a little further and I kiss her again. It’s like the crying released something in her, because the second our lips touch she’s on me, her body pushing against mine, her hands frantically ripping at my clothes. Where our kiss a moment ago was like an intense, slow burn, this kiss is like wild fire, setting our souls alight.

  She’s in such a rush to get out of her own clothing that she almost rips the t-shirt I’ve loaned her as she’s pulling it off over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, and my sweatpants slide easily off her hips. And there she is, naked before me again. So fucking beautiful.

  “Fuck, Essie, you’re so beautiful. Your body is perfect. Are you going to let me destroy you? Are you going to let me fuck you hard enough that you’ll be finding bruises for days?”

  She looks a little defiant when she angles her head back, but she says, “If that’s what you want, then yes.”

  “Come here, then. Get on your knees for me.”

  She kneels on the couch next to me, bent at the waist, her head over my lap, and she unfastens my jeans. A second later I feel the silky warmth of her breath against my cock. Her tongue peeks out and flicks gently at the tip, and then boldly, she takes me in as far as she can all the way to the back of her throat.

  “Damn, Ess. Holy shit.” I reach out and cup her ass with one hand, squeezing, before sliding one finger into her pussy from behind. She groans while I’m deep in her throat, and the vibrations send a shiver shooting up my spine. She begins to bob her head up and down, and feel like I’m about explode. “Fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good at that. Suck me,” I growl, giving her hair a gentle tug. I let my head fall back against the couch as her lips tighten around me, pulling me in deep and then releasing me, her tongue swirling over my head, driving me close to the edge.

  My legs begin to shake as she sucks and licks faster, cupping my balls in one hand while she pumps the base of my shaft with the other. I’m on the verge of coming, but Essie must be able to tell. She stops all of a sudden, pulling her head back, and my eyes fly open.

  “Oooh, fuck. You’re playing with fire,” I say. She smirks a little as she straightens, brushing her hair behind her ears, and then she’s climbing up on me and straddling me, hands pressed against my shoulders, slowly lowering herself down onto my erect cock. She’s so wet and tight. She pauses for a second before allowing herself sit all the way down on my lap. I can’t help the groan that escapes from my throat, and she cries out, too.

  “You’re so big,” she pants.

  “Good. I can feel your pussy stretching for me, beautiful. You’re i
ncredible. Your body was made for me.” She begins to rock back and forth slowly, rotating her hips in languorous circles. I lean forward and kiss her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples, and all the while she moves with an increasing intensity. I bite down, and Essie hisses.

  “Ahhh! Fuck.” She shoots me a warning glance.

  “I told you. You’re going to be finding bruises, beautiful. That’s just the way it is. Unless you want to stop, of course?”

  “No way. I’ll kill you if you stop.” She gyrates against me, her pelvis grinding against mine, and she smiles. I’m assuming she’s smiling because she knows she’s in complete control here. I take deep breaths, slowing off the orgasm that’s about to rip through me, trying to keep it at bay for as long as possible, but she’s making that incredibly difficult. She grips my shoulders, her fingernails digging in, and I slap her thigh, close to the curve of her buttock. “Ahh!” She gives me another murderous look, but I can tell from the way her body reacts that she enjoys the pain. The skin across her breasts is flushed dark red, and her lips are so goddamn swollen.

  “You want me,” I tell her, grinning. “You want me so fucking bad.” Essie screws her eyes shut, biting her bottom lip, and I slap her again. “You need to fuck me now, Ess. You need to show me how badly you want me to come. I want to see those beautiful breasts of yours bouncing as you ride the living shit out of me.”

  She pants, her head tipping backward as she spreads her legs wider and sinks even further down onto my cock. The view from where I’m lying is spectacular. Every time she moves up, I see the pink lips of her pussy shaping themselves around my dick. When she slides down, that view is even better.

  I press the pad of my thumb against her swollen clit as she rocks up and down on me, and Essie gasps out loud. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come if you do that. You’regonnamakemecome, you’regonnamakemecome.”

  God damn fucking right I am. I prop myself up on one elbow so I can work her clit faster, and she wraps one arm around my neck, using me as leverage so she can fuck me harder. “Hold on.” I begin to thrust upwards into her, our bodies finding a perfect rhythm, and it’s obvious we’re at the point of no return. Essie lets go of my neck and leans back, her breasts so fucking perfect and biteable, and I’m dragging my hands over her body, growling deep in the base of my throat as we both come. Essie sounds like she’s on the verge of tears as I continue to push myself up into her.

  “Fuck, Essie, you get so tight when you come.” I feel the subtle slickness of her climax marking me, soaking me, running down in between my legs, and I can’t stand how ridiculously fucking hot that is. I pick her up off me and lay her out on the floor, and she doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t protest. I bury my tongue deep in her pussy, laving at her clit, and she squirms uselessly as I lick up the remnants of her orgasm. I undoubtedly end up getting a fair amount of my own come in my mouth too, but who gives a flying fuck. Together we taste sweet and fucking perfect and I love every second of it.

  “Come again for me, baby. Come on, come again.”

  She does. She grabs hold of my hair and grinds her pussy up into my mouth, and I can’t help but groan savagely as she screams. My scalp is tinging when she finally lets me go. “You come so well,” I tell her, planting a kiss on the inside of her thigh. “So, so fucking well. It drives me crazy.”

  “Only you make me feel this way,” she whispers. She swallows hard, drawing in a breathless gasp. “That’s not…coming like that’s not normal for me.” She sounds stunned. Lots of girls may pull the old, I’ve-never-come-like-that-before line when you fuck them, but I know Essie isn’t lying right now. I can spot a faker a mile away, and some things you just can’t fake. She definitely didn’t fake that she just squirted all over my cock.

  She clings onto my neck when I stoop down to pick her up off the floor. I carry her through to my bedroom and place her, naked, into my bed. I climb in next to her and hold her in my arms. “Be here when we wake up in the morning, Essie. Just be here, okay? Can you do that?”

  “I promise,” she says. “I promise I will.”

  Chapter Five

  Essie

  I break my promise.

  For once I’m glad I have to be up early for work. Sex with Aidan is one thing, but waking up in his arms is something completely different. Sleeping with someone, limbs entwined, is a totally different type of intimacy than sex. In this case, I get the feeling it would be soul-destroying.

  I wake up before the sun rises without the need of my alarm, thank god—at least that way I don’t rouse him. I have to get back into that insanely tight dress. It would be great to take a shower first, but I can’t risk it. Ugh.

  I knew I was going to have sex with him, of course. I’d prepared myself mentally for the intimacy, told myself I would be totally fine if I remained focused on why I was in his apartment, but hell if all of that didn’t go out of the window as soon as I walked through the damn door. And then I ended up breaking down and sobbing in his arms! What the fuck was that about? I don’t even know why that happened—one minute everything was fine, the movie had just ended. I was thinking we might end the night by going to bed, we were both obviously tired, and then he started to kiss me. It just felt so right. And in that moment, I realized how perfectly alone I’ve been for years now. My plotting and scheming to bring down the Callahan Corporation hasn’t exactly left much time for me to be forging lasting, meaningful or emotional relationships with people. Especially men. And now, the irony of the whole situation is that I feel so connected to him, the guy I’m planning on ruining.

  When Aidan told me he was there for me, he ruined me. It was as though he’d read my mind and witnessed the hollow pain and sadness that lives there, and said the most perfect thing he could have in that instant. When he kissed me again, it felt like time had stopped or simply ceased to exist, and it was only the two of us left alive in the whole world. The part of my brain responsible for rational thought ceased to exist, too. A primal, base part of me took over, and I think it surprised the both of us.

  Why do I love how his arms feel around me so much? I always hated that part with other guys, the ones whose beds I occasionally stayed in until morning. They would want to spoon or cuddle. Their very presence would feel oppressively heavy. It was no problem having them on top of me while we were fucking, but once that part was over, once they wanted to just lie there, an arm thrown over me, legs entwined with mine, it was too much. I couldn’t take it.

  With Aidan, it’s different. Maybe it’s because I feel safe with him. I don’t want to feel safe with him. I shouldn’t feel safe with him—and he sure as hell shouldn’t feel safe with me. Our situation gets more and more fucked up by the second.

  I yank my dress on, trying to erase the memory of Aidan’s skin, how clean and masculine and fresh it smelled. I have to get out of here. My damned dress is tight and uncomfortable and my hair is a complete mess. My eyes are probably still puffy from sleep. Aidan hasn’t come out of his bedroom yet. I know I should make a silent dash for the door, I can’t help but stop and peek in at him. He looks angelic, his face relaxed, the early morning sun throwing long shadows across his bare, sculpted chest. Soon he’ll wake up to find I am not here, that I broke my promise. Will that rattle him? Will that make him question us? Aidan stirs, rotating from his side to his back, turning his face into the pillow. His arm reaches out, as though he’s feeling for something, and that is my cue. I back away, find my shoes, and I wait until I’m out in the hallway to put them on.

  I stop home quickly to shower and change into something a little more appropriate for work. It feels as though my brain won’t function properly, and that feeling lingers all day. When Brandon shows up for another meeting with Alicia, I’m at my desk, trying to type up client report for another of Alicia’s clients, but it seems like every other word I write is misspelled.

  “Hey, you doing okay?” Brandon asks. “You look a little…”

  “Fucked?”

  “I w
as going to say frazzled, but I guess you could say that, yeah.” In his hand, he holds a lemon Pellegrino, unopened, which he offers to me. “Here, have this.”

  “What? Oh, no, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

  “Just take it,” he says with a smile. “Really. These things always make me feel better when I’m suffering the effects of a late night. They’re magic.”

  I take the can. My mouth does feel dry as all hell. The second the carbonated liquid hits my lips, I know Brandon’s just saved me from a painful afternoon of crashing and burning. I give him a broad grin. “Thanks. How are you doing?”

  He shrugs. “I guess I’m okay. Still alive and kicking, right? Hey, I…I actually want to…apologize about the last time I came in here,” he tells me, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  I raise my eyebrows. “For what?”

  His face reddens. “Well…y’know. I asked you if you wanted to go and get coffee some time. I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did mean to, but I realize that it was probably inappropriate and I shouldn’t be trying to get a date at my lawyer’s office. Especially not when I’m in the midst of a custody battle.” He laughs. “So, I just wanted to apologize. You’ve just been so nice to me and it’s appreciated. It means something.”

  “Thanks, Brandon. That’s…” I tip my head to one side, scanning my brain. “Nope, I don’t think anyone’s ever thanked me for being nice to them before.”

  He gives me a confused look. Bless him. He has no idea that the person he’s talking to has a lump of jet-black coal in her chest cavity where her heart belongs. “Well, I’m not exactly rescinding my offer, anyway. I’d still like to take you out.”

  Maybe I should go out on a date with Brandon. Maybe going out with a sweet, normal guy will help me not get so caught up with Aidan. Aidan’s not a love interest. I will not allow him to become a love interest. I almost say yes to the hopeful looking man standing in front of me right then and there, but I hold off. I don’t want to use him like that. I’ve done that with enough men as it is, but those guys were total douche bags. Brandon deserves better. “I’m actually sort of involved with someone right now,” I say.