K. Bromberg - Slow Burn

“I don’t.” I lie without batting an eyelash since he’s the king of telling untruths.

He stares at me for a moment before taking another step toward me. I tell myself not to be affected, and then of course his cologne hits me, causing memories to surge to the forefront of my mind. “It seems you’ve gotten all hard on me, babe.”

And I can’t help it: My mind immediately flashes to last night. The word hard makes me think of the look on Becks’s face when he wanted to prove just how hard he was. I shake my head and exhale in exasperation, thinking about how different Becks and this man in front of me are.

But both dangerous .

He tilts his head down, smile still in place, and looks into my eyes. “Ahhh, she’s giving in. You know you can never stay mad at me. Resistance is futile, babe.”

And I’m so pissed because he’s right. I never can. Of course, I respect myself and all that shit, and would never allow myself to go back down that path with him again, but I swear to God, Dante can make me bend my rules like no one else can. I fight the smile that threatens to curl up one corner of my mouth, knowing it’s basically useless to even try. “Dante …” My voice trails off, my internal war waging within me, as I try to figure out what he wants this time. “Why are you here?”

His smoldering smirk surges to a megawatt smile because he knows he’s got me now. “I need a place to crash for a bit.” His eyes darken with an unexpected solemnity that throws me, but with him, you never know what’s the truth and what’s a game.

“And you see a vacancy sign on my porch or something?”

He blows out an audible breath. Used to taking without asking, he doesn’t like having to explain anything. “C’mon, babe, I know Ry moved out.” I raise my eyebrows, causing him to pause and explain. “It’s not like speculations over her wedding details weren’t the buzz all over TMZ last night or anything.” He rolls his eyes and flashes that smile at me again, but I stand my ground, arms crossed, impatient. “I just need a couple of days, a week or two at the most, so that I can straighten some shit out.”

There is something about the way he says it—something about the stress lining his face—that has me angling my head and looking past his tough exterior and wondering what he’s really doing in town. “So, you came here? You think you’re charming enough that I’m just going to forget all of the shit from before?”

“You suck.” I almost laugh at the grade school response coming from this big, bad rebel.

“No, actually I don’t.” I shrug, looking down at his crotch and then up to his eyes. “Sorry, but small objects like yours are a choking hazard.”

A half smile plays at one corner of his mouth. We stare at each other silently for a moment before he begs. “Please, Haddie?” His plea does me in, and I’m ready to consent, but he continues before I can reply. “You know me. Know my story. Thought you might take pity on me when so many others would turn me away.”

We stare at each other for a few moments as I try to decipher what he means. Because yes, I do know his story: only child raised by his mom, dad nonexistent, so what’s changed now? Does this have to do with his mom? His job? What? Frankly, it’s none of my damn business, but between the look in his eyes and the desperation in his voice, I begin to feel sorry about my initial desire to kick him in the nuts.

Hell, it’s still an option, but I’ll make sure he’s okay first. I shake my head in resignation and close my eyes for a moment, mentally chastising myself for the disorder and chaos I know I’m inviting into my life.

“No funny stuff, Dante. I mean it.”

He holds his hand up. “Scout’s honor,” he promises with a victorious smirk.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” I tell him, knowing full well the Boy Scouts kicked him out for inciting mutiny when he was in grade school.

He flashes a devil-may-care grin and steps over the threshold.

And so it begins , I think as he walks past me and into my house.

Chapter 5

BECKETT

I roll my truck to a stop, glad to finally be here and thankful traffic was nonexistent. I turn off the ignition, and say a silent thank-you to Howard Stern for allowing me to push the fucking thoughts out of my head, all the ones I’m not supposed to be thinking.

As I climb out of the truck and look at the trees around me, I take in the one place where I’ve always been able to clear my head, forget my worries, and just chill. So why, when I should be walking up the porch, cracking a cold one, and sitting by the pool, are my thoughts still stuck on her?

Haddie.

Sweet fucking Haddie, and that look on her face as I pulled her to the edge of the bed last night and stared at her: blond hair fanned out beneath her, cheeks red, lips parted, and pussy so goddamn wet and tasting like Heaven. Why do I keep remembering that look in her eyes—taunting, innocent, and weary—and wondering what put it there? Am I right to assume she wanted to feel to forget?

I shake my head and whistle at Rex to jump out of the truck before I slam the door. Her words run through my head over and over now that Howard Stern’s voice is no longer filling my ears. We said no strings . But there was no fucking we about it. She said no strings. She made it clear over and over that we were a one-night stand. No strings, my ass . I feel like she threw a goddamn lasso around me and pulled it tight.

No strings, yeah … but rope? She didn’t say a fucking thing about any rope.

I knew I should have done more to resist her advances last night, knew that one goddamn taste wouldn’t be enough. Shit, that’s why I’ve kept her at arm’s length this past year and a half. Haddie being sexy was a given, but getting tangled with her in the sheets was something I didn’t want to risk since she was Rylee’s best friend. And best friends dating best friends usually always turns ugly.

So I tried to play it safe. Lot of good that did me since I fell off the cliff last night and don’t even think I want to be rescued from the rope I’m dangling from.

I reach up and adjust my ball cap, and then I grab my bag out of the bed of the truck. This is the problem with pussy: When you want it you can’t get it, and when you don’t want it, you get it and then you can’t get it out of your fucking head.

And fuck if I can erase sweet goddamn Haddie’s from owning my thoughts.

“Hey, asshole?”

The voice shocks me from my thoughts. I snap my head up and look toward the porch. “What the fuck are you doing here, Walker?”

“Glad to see you too, dude,” my brother says as he leans over to get a sloppy kiss from Rex. He laughs and ruffles his fur before looking back up at me.

I look around to make sure I didn’t miss seeing my brother’s truck on the way in, but nope, it’s not here. “I didn’t know you were going to be up here.” I pull my bag over my shoulder and start walking toward the old ranch house.

“Yeah, well, it was last minute. Aubrey had a bachelorette party in Vegas.” He shrugs as he lifts the beer in his hand to his lips. “I figured I’d head out here for a couple of days while she was gone. Recharge. Relax. Become one with nature,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows as he repeats the motto our mom used to say when she hauled us off to this old house in Ojai. It has been in her family for years. We used to roll our eyes at the motto as kids, but understand it as adults.

“My truck’s behind the barn. I was letting Raul use it,” he explains, causing me to look over toward the barn to see if the caretaker is there to wave a greeting to, but he’s nowhere in sight. “What’s your excuse for coming up?”