Page 95 of Beneath the Burn

Woodenly, she slid off his lap and tagged the shirt.

He rose with her, never breaking contact, his leg against hers, a hand on her hip, and leaned against her backside as he slid up his zipper. She felt him all around her, as much a part of her as her own skin. Despite the descent in his mood, his nearness comforted her in ways she was growing alarmingly addicted to.

Shifting to face him, she startled when his breath rustled her hair from behind. He brushed a wayward strand off her shoulder and replaced it with his lips. Heat radiated from his body and kicked up her pulse. With a sigh, she let her head fall back to his chest.

He walked his fingers around her waist and tugged the shirt from her hand. “Thank you.” His whisper sent tingles dancing over her skin.

She turned as he raised the shirt over his head and shoved his arms through. The muscles in his shoulders and chest expanded and squeezed. A bead of sweat chased the crease between her breasts. Had the air vents stopped working?

His head emerged from the neck hole and his eyes instantly found hers. He was so powerfully attractive, she couldn’t look away. In fact, no one could. It wasn’t just his fame that drew people. It washim.

Wrinkles grooved his forehead. “What?”

She put her hand on his chest, stopping him from lowering his shirt. “Even if you weren’t famous, you’d still be the center of female attention.”

The wrinkles deepened and he shook his head.

“You’re telling me that before you had a recognizable face, you didn’t draw women’s eyes everywhere you went?”

He sighed, watching her finger trace the dip between his pecs. Yeah, she was touching him and he wasn’t flinching. But her relief was buried under insecurity.

Could she deal with that? Constantly competing with women better looking and lower maintenance than her? “I don’t have a chance in hell,” she mumbled.

He snapped his head up and glowered at her. “I only want your eyes, your attention.”

“Oh, you have that. Trust me. You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

He scowled and shoved his shirt down the perfectly sculpted proof, knocking her hand out of the way.

“Your sex appeal won’t hold my attention forever though.” She bit her lip, trammeled by the kind of hope she hadn’t entertained since she was a child.

His frown fell away to blank confusion.

“This will hold me.” She poked him on the chest. “You have the heart one expects to see at the center of a fire, bending and twisting like steel, but never breaking. If something happens to mine, yours would be stubborn enough to beat for both of us.”

His lips parted. Then her back hit the door under the weight of his body and their lips collided in a desperate fusion. He clinched his arms around her waist and palmed her ass, crushing their hips together.

The friction of their rubbing bodies, the heat from their lips, and the harmony of their breathy noises set her body ablaze in the clutch of his arms. His fingers slipped beneath her shirt and circled her tailbone. Hers pushed through his hair. The spiral in her womb returned as if it never left, winding her heart rate higher and higher.

A fist knocked on the door, vibrated against her spine. They flung apart and stared at one another, gasping.

Another knock, followed by Nathan’s muffled voice. “Charlee?”

Jay grinned, his eyes glimmering. “He’s like your dad, ready to beat my ass on our first date.”

“He’s nothing like my dad.” Her voice was sharper than it should’ve been.

His face fell. “Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Stop apologizing.” She wiped her tingling lips with the back of her hand. “I’ll tell you all about Craig Grosky. Then you’ll know. Okay?”

“Craig,” he mumbled to himself, rubbing his nape. A smirk slanted his mouth. He must have figured out her nicknames.

As she turned toward the door, he smacked her ass. The echo bounced through the room, the sting lingering for long delicious seconds.

His whisper caressed her ear. “We’re going to talk about that, too.”

She shivered, inhaled deeply, and opened the door.

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