K. Bromberg - Slow Burn

I refuse to glance over at him as he makes himself comfortable. He stretches his long legs out in front of us and reclines back on his elbows as I focus on everything around us but don’t really see anything. Besides the whispering of the wind through the grass and the squawk of a bird, a comfortable silence ensconces us. And I’m more than okay with that because right now he’s too damn close, and I’m strung so goddamn tight that I’d give anything to push away the words I know he’s going to speak. All I want to do is take him right here in this field. Climb on top of his body and lose myself in him so that he can help me clear everything momentarily from my head.

He loves me .

“We can sit here all day, you know,” he says while I remain silent, trying to figure where he’s headed with this.

“Mm-hmm. It’s nice. Is this why you brought me out here, to sit in an empty field and do nothing but relax?”

I keep my eyes focused ahead, but I know he’s smiling because I can hear it in his voice when he speaks next. “We could be doing a whole lot more than relaxing, but that’s up to you now, isn’t it?”

He loves me not .

I fight the urge to whip my head his way to figure out what he’s talking about. Hoping that fucking me into next week is what he’s talking about. “How’s that?” I ask with a whole lot of uninterest, which I really don’t feel.

I hear him shift, and he moves to sit cross-legged in front of me so that I have no option but to look at him. I can’t avoid him really, and hell if his proximity doesn’t have my nerve endings standing on end, begging for him to touch me.

He loves me .

“Let’s be completely clear on something,” he says, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he pauses to make sure that I am one hundred percent paying attention right now. And I most definitely am. “I’d really like to lay you down and take you every way possible right now.” I begin to talk, to tell him I’m game, but the warning look in his eyes stops me. “Fuck you so good and hard you feel it in your dreams so that even if you try to run afterward, you can’t forget me …”

I swear my body shudders at the challenge he issues, the wanton woman in me silently begging him to do just that.

“… and I will.” He chuckles, the sound strained with need. I watch with nonchalance as he reaches out between my legs, my eyes locked on the progress of his hands until they’re hidden by the hem of my skirt. Even though I know it’s coming, I still suck in a sharp breath when I feel his fingers rub ever so gently against my seam. The barrier of my panties makes the muted feeling almost more intense because it’s the hint of what he can do to me that has the ache unfurling and coiling so tight, my body tenses, my back arching, my mouth dropping open.

He loves me not .

“Sweet Haddie, did you get yourself off? Did you slide your fingers right here, part yourself, and think of me?” His voice is deep and mesmerizing, a seductive sound against the whisper of nature around us. My body hums from his words, desire swelling against the stroke of his finger.

His chuckle hits my ears, but I’m lost in thought because he withdraws his fingers now that my panties are damp with my arousal. “Ah, baby, you’re so ready, so desperate. I know you listened. I know you didn’t make yourself come. And I want to relieve that ache for you so damn bad”—his voice trails off as he inhales a steadying breath—“but not until you talk and tell me what’s going on here between us. I need answers, Haddie.”

He loves me .

And of course, the riot of desire coursing through me gets doused by those words. I break my gaze from his, looking down at a ladybug that has ventured onto the hem of my skirt. It’s so much easier to look there than it is to tell him I just can’t do this. “Becks …” His name is a familiar sigh on my lips, and I try again to find the words I need. “It’s complicated, and I just don’t have an answer for you right now.”

“Don’t or can’t?”

I clench my jaw at his words, cursing myself for walking into that one. I keep my eyes trained on the ladybug, uncomfortable and yet comforted by his presence all at the same time.

And I realize I have no more petals left.

Damn.

I need to pick another one to get the answer I want.

“Can’t, then,” he muses. “Okay, so what is it you want from me, Haddie?”

My eyes flash to his instantly, my nipples tighten, and my libido begins to hum with the silent temptation at my fingertips. “I want you to fuck me so hard, I have no choice but to remember who I am. Break me down so that I can find me again.” I’ve never spoken more honest words before, nor had I intended to reveal so much. I know they sound just about as crass as his comment moments before, but frankly, I’m not looking for romance right now. I’m looking for exactly what I said, but now that I’ve spoken, an uneasiness filters in with his silence.

I hear his shocked exhale at my blatant response. Confusion flits through his eyes, and he angles his head and stares so deep within me that when I begin to avert my eyes, he brings his hands up to the sides of my face and holds it so that I have no option but to look at him.

“Uh-huh. You think you can actually say something like that to me and I’m not going to make you explain what’s behind it? We’d better do some talking because you’re making me hard with a comment like that. And you keep making me go back on promises I’ve made to myself … and, City, if I can’t trust promises to myself, then I can’t make promises to anyone else….” He shifts some and adjusts himself within his shorts with a pained groan. “So either you start talking or you might just have to sit there silently while I take care of myself because fuck, woman, you’re not giving me many options at this point.”

Is he for real? He would really make me sit here and watch him get off rather than let me help him? He’s that goddamn stubborn?

We sit in silence as I try to hide the answers in my eyes and the desire apparent in my nipples pressing through the thin fabric of my tank top. He nods his head in measured acknowledgment—of what, I’m not sure—before a ghost of a smile traces over his mouth.

“Keep those eyes of yours looking at me like that, Montgomery, and you’re going to be in a whole world of hurt.”

“I am?” I snort, trying to play off the fact that every part of my body is angling toward him to be touched.

“Yup, it’s a bitch wanting something so bad, you’re weeping,” he says, his eyes flitting down to where he’s dampened my panties and then back up to mine, a cocky-as-hell smirk playing over his lips.

He wants to play this game? Bring it on. “Nah, I’m a ‘grab life by the balls’ kinda girl … so if I, uh, want something,” I say, repeating the same response he’s giving me, eyes trailing down to his erection pressing against the seam of his shorts and then back up, “I just take what I want.”

“And what is it you want?” He leans back on his hands, his arms bracing himself as he toys with me.

I work my tongue in my mouth as I fight my own smirk and the need coursing through me. “You.”

“Hmm,” he says. “Well, City, that there poses quite the problem because, one, I brought you here to talk. Just to talk.” He pushes himself up so that he leans forward, his face dangerously, temptingly close to mine. “And, two, since I brought you out here with only that intention, I didn’t bring a condom. No glove, no love.” He shrugs, a victorious smirk transforming his face from arrogant to playful.

And fuck the man is gorgeous in whatever role he’s playing. I sag inwardly at his statement, needing his touch like I need my next breath since he has me primed with his verbal-and-taunting foreplay. Then I realize that he could very well be playing me.