Melt With You: Into The Fire Series Page 2

“Of course. We’ll be gone for two weeks. The house is all yours. You can stay there when we get back too.”

  I cast a smile her way and shook my head. “I might take you up on staying while y’all are gone, but I’m not crowding your house right after your honeymoon.”

  Ivy shrugged. “We’ve been living together for years. My God, it’s almost embarrassing it took us this long to get around to the wedding. Why don’t you just move out here anyway? You’re always saying you want a change of pace.”

  Home, as it was at the moment, was coastal North Carolina, where my mother was originally from, and where my father’s company had its base. Lately, I had found it smothering because all my father wanted was for me to join his company, and I refused. In fact, over the last year or more, I’d done the craziest thing ever. Or not, depending on how you looked at it. My father certainly thought it was ridiculous for me to train to become a hotshot firefighter.

  It was quite tempting to pull up stakes and move to Alaska. I would have a built-in best friend and settle into a life far from my father. Even though Ivy and I had only met over the past year, we’d bonded quickly. That was saying something for me because, with all the travel when I was little, I hadn’t had many opportunities to make friends. Ivy and I met at a function for the company she shared with Owen and connected instantly.

  Catching her eyes, I shrugged. “We’ll see. Meanwhile, tell me about Max.”

  Max, the driver who’d picked me up at the hotel, sent heat sliding through my veins and my belly spinning in flips. Max was way too handsome for his own good, and I was way too curious for mine.

  Even if it didn’t make a lick of sense because nothing would, or could, happen with Max, I was still curious. I’d sworn off men, and for a perfectly good reason. I had an unerring accuracy for being attracted to men who were assholes. One after another stomped on my heart, the most recent having been the most devastating.

  Ivy looked at me, her eyes taking on a gleam as a slight grin curled her lips. “Max is a hot one, isn’t he? He’s known Owen forever, since MIT, and—”

  She was cut off when Owen approached, sliding his arm around her waist and dipping his head to drop a kiss on her neck.

  My heart pinged. I was so happy for her. Owen loved Ivy to pieces.

  “We’re supposed to cut the cake,” he said with a sigh.

  Ivy pushed off the bar. “Now? Why are there so many rules about weddings?” she asked, looking to me as if I had the answer.

  I shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

  Owen chuckled. “I’m told if we don’t do it soon, they’ll need to move it back into the kitchen.”

  I followed them, meandering over to stand behind the guests surrounding the table where the cake was displayed, and I caught myself searching for Max. I wanted to know more about him, and that was bad, because when I got curious about a man, I tended to do stupid things. Just as I was telling myself it was a good thing he wasn’t around, all of a sudden, he strolled up beside me.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t keep from sneaking glances at him. He was obscenely handsome, with his midnight black hair and ice-blue eyes. I wanted to dive in and take a swim. He held a glass of scotch in his hand. Even his hands were sexy, strong, and slightly rugged, as if he’d worked with them. My mind flashed to a vision of his hands on my body, heat flooding through me in response.

  Needing to direct my thoughts elsewhere, I took a gulp of my martini. Big mistake. I felt a different kind of burn as the alcohol traveled down my throat, and I started coughing.

  “You okay?” Max asked.

  His voice was low and sent a shiver over my skin. I tried to say I was fine, but I just kept coughing. His hand slid down my spine. With my dress open at the top, his touch sent fire shimmering under the surface of my skin.

  My coughing outburst was drawing attention. He turned, guiding me away from the small crowd gathered around Ivy and Owen, and walked me back to the bar where Garrett was now serving drinks. Max paused at the corner of the bar, near the windows. His hand remained on my back, the heat of his touch filtering through the silk of my dress. After a few minutes, I finally managed to stop coughing.

  Glancing up, I found his blue-eyed gaze watching me. “Went down the wrong pipe?” he asked.

  With a sigh and another breath, I nodded, my eyes watering. I set my martini down, then reached over to snag a bar napkin and began dabbing at the lingering tears. “I’m not fit for company at things like this,” I said with a little laugh.

  Max was quiet for a beat and then his mouth hitched at the corner. Oh sweet hell, he should not smile. My belly felt funny and slivers of desire spun through my veins. He looked away, glancing over his shoulder toward the cake cutting. “I think we missed the fun.”

  I chuckled. “The most important part already happened.”

  “How long are you staying?” he asked, his gaze swinging back to me.

  His question took me off guard. “I’m at the hotel until tomorrow. You?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s beautiful here.”

  As I looked up at him, my body—my traitorous body—sent naughty thoughts through my mind. The view of Max was quite beautiful. Yet, I knew that wasn’t what he was talking about. I managed to keep those thoughts safely in my head, nodding politely. “It is.”

  Garrett joined us where we stood at the bar. I’d been here two days now, and met most everyone in Ivy and Owen’s circle. I’d quickly come to learn that the Hamilton family was comprised of beautiful people. Garrett was no exception with his glossy dark hair and blue eyes. His gaze was sharp and assessing as he looked between us.

  “Another drink?” he asked, his eyes flicking to my almost empty martini glass.

  “Yes, please,” I said quickly. I needed something to take the edge off. Having Max nearby made me restless and tingly all over.

  “You?” Garrett asked, his eyes shifting to Max.

  Max shook his head. “All set, but thanks. I’m the shuttle, so no more drinks for me.”

  Garrett chuckled as he prepped another pomegranate martini for me.

  The rest of the evening was a blur. I drank too many martinis, danced, and felt the burn of Max’s gaze on me every time our eyes collided. I wanted him. Badly.

  Even in my tipsy state, I kept reminding myself that whenever I wanted someone, it was usually a bad decision on my part. I didn’t do casual well. I never had.

  I tended to fall hard and fast, getting attached and confusing attraction for something else. My therapist, the one I saw after my last relationship blew up in my face, had gently pointed out that perhaps I was looking for the affection I’d never gotten from my father.

  I’d been looking high and low for love most of my life. With my mother gone, and a father who approached parenting as something to pencil in on his calendar and hand off to others, I’d craved it for too long. As such, I often misinterpreted cues and read far too much into small gestures.

  Max was particularly tempting with his dark hair and the strong lines of his face, but it was his eyes that held me captive. One look from those cool blue pools, and it felt as though he was undressing me, his gaze lighting little fires on my skin everywhere they landed.

  Somewhere along the way, I ended up in his arms out on the deck. Seeing as he was one of the groomsmen, and I was a bridesmaid, it only made sense we would dance at some point. Not many men enjoyed dancing, but Max surprised me. While he gave off a somber, controlled air, he danced like a dream, twirling me easily around the deck. When the music shifted into a slower song, he pulled me close, just when I was thinking I needed to make my escape.

  With the heat of desire sliding through my veins and the feel of his strong embrace, my body reassured my mind that it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy it for a few minutes. He smelled good, crisp, and musky, all at once. My head barely reached his shoulder, so I was pressed against Max’s chest, his scent consuming me. With one of his hands gripping mine and the other splayed on my lower back, his fingers tea
sing over my bottom, I could feel the moisture building between my thighs, the silk of my panties wet. This is such a bad idea.

  “So, Harlow, tell me what you do?” he murmured.

  A rather common question, and perfectly expected. Yet, these questions were loaded for me because they reminded me of how I let my father down, over and over again.

  I shoved those thoughts aside and replied, “I’m a hotshot firefighter. I finished my training last year.”

  Max’s steps stuttered slightly, and I couldn’t help but laugh, glancing up at him. “Did I surprise you?”

  His eyes canted down to mine, and my breath caught in my throat as butterflies spun in my belly. This man was too much.

  He was quiet for a beat, his gaze searching mine as a slow grin stretched across his face. “Yes, you surprised me.”

  Between his grin and the slightly rough edge to his voice, a shiver ran through me. I ordered my mind to ignore the crazy signals of my body.

  Manners, Harlow. Use your manners.

  “And what do you do?” I managed to ask.

  I felt the shrug of his shoulders, the motion making me aware of his muscled chest pressing against my breasts. My nipples tightened, giving me away. He appeared to be considering his words.

  “Business,” was all he finally said.

  I was just tipsy enough to be less than polite. “Vague much?”

  He smiled again, sending my belly into a series of flips. “I’d rather not think about work tonight.”

  The song ended and a more upbeat song began. When Max stepped back, I felt bereft. My body nearly followed him, like a magnet to his steel, but I managed to stop myself. Conveniently, Ginger Nash, Ivy’s sister-in-law, was approaching with two glasses in her hands.

  “Champagne?” she asked, pausing at my side.

  Ginger was funny and smart. Her brown hair was up in a twist, and her blue eyes were twinkling. She squeezed my arm as I accepted the proffered drink and took a gulp.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said with a wide smile. Ginger seemed to have decided we were best buddies, even though we’d only met days ago. She was easy to be around though, with her sly sense of humor and warmth.

  She glanced to Max, arching a brow. “Aren’t you handsome?”

  Max barely reacted, his lips quirking.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t flirting. Just making an observation. I’m happily married,” Ginger said dismissively.

  Max merely arched a brow this time, his eyes glinting with mirth.

  “It’s a wedding, though,” she continued. “Maybe you should find someone to sweep off her feet.”

  Max threw his head back with a laugh just as Cam Nash, Ivy’s brother and Ginger’s husband, approached. Cam was a totally nice guy, and quite dreamy. He’d retired from being a world-class skier and was now an instructor here at the lodge.

  Cam slipped his arm around Ginger’s shoulders, nodding in my direction and grinning at Max. “Ignore Ginger. She always wants to set everyone up.”

  Ginger nudged him with her elbow and took a sip of her champagne. “What’s wrong with being romantic?”

  Cam, who shared Ivy’s coloring with amber hair and eyes, cast a smile her way. “Nothing at all, but not everyone wants to be set up.”

  Unabashed, Ginger shrugged, her eyes bouncing from Max to me. “You two match. Just saying,” she offered with a wink.

  Chapter Three

  Max

  Later that night, I pulled up in front of Midnight Sun Lodges. Glancing over to Harlow, I found her sound asleep, and I took a moment to absorb her. Her hair was mussed from the evening of dancing and socializing. Her dark lashes curled against her cheeks, and her face was relaxed in sleep, the lines of tension gone.

  Harlow was all kinds of temptation. Right now, I needed to get her to her room.

  After parking the car in a space close to the front entrance, I rounded it and carefully lifted her into my arms. She didn’t even stiffen as I held her against my chest. She sighed softly, tucking her head against my shoulder, and my heart twisted sharply. I didn’t know why Harlow affected me this way.

  There was desire, but there was more under the surface. I had a burning curiosity about her. She’d shocked the hell out of me when she announced she was a firefighter. Ordering my body to behave, I carried her inside.

  I had to wake her up just long enough to find out her room number, which she mumbled against my shoulder, and was out like a light again by the time we got there. I laid her down on the bed, intending to make my exit, but then I looked back at her.

  Big mistake.

  Her dress had ridden up around her hips, a glimpse of blue silk teasing me between her thighs, and her hair fell in a tousle on the pillows. My eyes flicked to the valley between her breasts. Just as I brought my gaze back to her face, Harlow’s eyes opened and caught mine in the dim light of the hotel room.

  “Don’t go,” she murmured.

  She was tipsy, and I knew that. Yet, I couldn’t seem to refuse her. Not when her stare held mine, and she beckoned me with her hand.

  Next thing I knew, I’d kicked off my shoes and shrugged out of my jacket, telling myself I would stay until she fell asleep. She started to try to take her dress off, fumbling with the sleeves.

  Fuck me. This was some kind of penance I didn’t know I owed.

  When she got it twisted around her waist, I shackled the lust rampaging through me and helped her shimmy out of her dress. She was beyond tempting in a blue silk bra and matching panties. Reminding myself she was intoxicated, I quickly yanked the covers over her.

  Clinging to my restraint, I leaned against the headboard, on top of the covers, and listened as she mumbled something about hating hotels and sleeping alone. My heart gave another twist. Any kind of emotional baggage typically sent me running when it came to women, but sensing the vulnerability in Harlow only heightened my response to her. I’ll only stay until she falls asleep.

  I meant to leave.

  The following morning, I came awake slowly, startled to realize I’d fallen asleep. Harlow was curled up against me. My cock was hard, my body very aware of the delectable woman right there for the taking. I took a deep breath, grasping onto my control.

  There weren’t many situations where my control was tested, yet, just now, I nearly ached with need for her. The only problem was, Harlow was a close friend of Owen and Ivy’s, and I didn’t like things to be messy. Getting skin to skin with Harlow smacked of messy.

  There was that, and the fact that I wanted her more fiercely than I’d wanted anyone for as long as I could remember. The only woman who’d ever called to me like this had illuminated just how shallow the idea of love could be. That woman was the reason I treated relationships almost as professional as work.

  Sex was a transaction, but as much as I wanted Harlow, I couldn’t quite think of her like that. I carefully shifted, intending to roll out of bed and make my exit quietly. The moment I started to move, Harlow did as well, and I felt when she came awake. She bolted upright, her eyes flying wide open. She stared at me, her cheeks turning a delectable shade of pink.

  Her hair was a tangled mess, falling down and partially masking her breasts behind the blue silk of her bra. As I looked at her—because my eyes had a fucking mind of their own—I saw her nipples tighten, playing peekaboo with me through the dark locks of her hair.

  Fuck me.

  “Oh my God! What are you doing here?!” She gasped, snatching up the sheet and tucking it under her armpits.

  I swung my legs off the bed, relieved I was almost fully dressed.

  “Nothing happened, Harlow.”

  My cock strained against my fly. Down boy.

  Harlow stood, turning with the sheet and wrapping it around her. I almost burst out laughing, but she looked so damn mad, I bit my tongue.

  “Why are you here?” She stood before me, looking like a fucking queen in a bed sheet, her gaze shooting daggers, and her cheeks rosy red.

  �
�You fell asleep on the ride back. I carried you up, and you asked me to stay.”

  I raked a hand through my hair, leaning my elbows on my knees, which also bought me a moment to get my body under control. I didn’t usually have this problem. But then, I didn’t make it a habit to spend the night with women. I had sex, I went on dates, I even had a few long-term arrangements, but I never spent the night.

  I’d broken my own rule, and I hadn’t even gotten anything out of it.

  “I think you should go,” Harlow said, her voice tight.

  I managed to get my cock under control by keeping my mind firmly on the numbers on my latest balance sheet from a company we’d recently acquired. They’d done a piss-poor job of management, so the numbers were memorable.

  I stood, on the heels of a deep breath, and turned to face her again. Holy hell, she was fucking gorgeous. I’d noticed last night that she didn’t even bother with makeup, not even lipstick. Her plump, pink lips were twisted sideways as she worried the bottom corner with her teeth.

  My eyes were drawn there like a bee to honey, and my cock threatened to ignore my mind again. I shifted gears, keeping my eyes locked to hers and envisioning the lines of red numbers.

  “I’m leaving now.”

  Rounding the end of the bed, I slipped my shoes on, snagged my jacket off the back of a chair, and picked up my tie.

  “Thank you for the ride,” she said, her voice stilted.

  She seemed tense, and that only made matters worse. I would love to see all that tied-up energy let loose. I had a feeling Harlow would be wild in bed. Too bad she didn’t fit my requirements. First and foremost, I wanted her too much. She was also a friend of a friend, and I didn’t need the complications.

  “How much longer will you be in Diamond Creek?” I asked, pausing by the door.

  Harlow held my gaze. I was fairly certain she didn’t notice the sheet was pulled tight across her breasts, and that I could see the tight points of her nipples. I didn’t think she would appreciate me filling her in on that tidbit, so I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on hers.