Slow Burn

Chapter 1

My sensations are dulled by the alcohol. And I am so okay with that. Okay that I’ve had enough to drink so that for the first time in six months, the ache that hits me with the memories isn’t as sharp.

I look around and try to focus on everything—the abundant flowers, the welcome chill from the ocean breeze, the pair of high heels abandoned in the corner—but all I can think about is how beautiful and happy Rylee was tonight. And my mind keeps recalling what my sister, Lexi, looked like on her wedding day. The words she said to me, her laugh ringing out above the guests as Danny made his toast to her, the smile on her face as the future stretched ahead of them.

Stop it, Had. Don’t ruin a perfect night. You deserve to celebrate your best friend’s wedding without feeling guilty.

But I can’t stop thinking about that other wedding, although the details are starting to fade in my mind. And I so badly want to remember every little detail about her. I need to be able to tell my niece, Madelyn, about how her mom loved to stand in the rain because she wanted to catch it on her tongue, how she ate pizza backward because the crust was her favorite part, how she loved to face the opposite way on the swings so we could give each other high fives. There are so many things I fear I’ll forget.

And so many other memories from the past year that I wish I could.

“We’ll be back in the morning, miss, to pick up the tables and chairs and the lot.”

The caterer’s voice pulls me from my melancholy thoughts—thoughts that don’t belong after the sheer beauty of today’s wedding. I turn to look at him, words choking in my throat.

“Not a problem.” Becks’s voice startles me. I didn’t realize he was out here on the deck, but I’m so glad he answers because, between the alcohol and the memories, I’m in no shape to respond coherently. “The housekeeper, Grace, will be here at ten to let you in.”

I finish the rest of my drink as the caterer thanks Becks. Then I turn around on unsteady legs to face him as he steps out of the night’s shadows into the light of the full moon. And it must be a mixture of the heady emotions of the day and my lack of sobriety, but my breath catches when I meet his eyes.

It’s just Becks, boy-next-door handsome as usual … dirty blond hair spiked up at the ends, aqua blue eyes so light the night makes them seem transparent … so why in the hell are parts of my body suddenly on alert?

I dart my tongue out to my tingling lips as he leans a broad shoulder against the post of the trellis and stares at me, head angled to the side, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and bow tie hanging loosely around his neck. I hear the ice in his glass clink as he shifts to set it on the table beside him, but his eyes hold steadfast to mine.

“You okay?” That slow, even drawl of his breaks the silence. I nod my head, still not trusting my voice, still trying to figure out why all of a sudden there is this tension between us—this electric energy—that has never been there before. Sure we’ve flirted harmlessly since we met through our best friends, Rylee and Colton, but this is different. And I can’t quite put my finger on what’s changed, not sure if I even want to.

Maybe it’s the fact that right now, face shaded with darkness, he looks a little dangerous, a little mysterious, a lot more the bad-boy type I usually fall for. He’s always struck me as more of a good guy, a down-home country type. But somehow the mixture of moonlight and night shadows brings out another side of him I’ve never envisioned; he looks edgier, more the wilder type I waste my time on, get my heart broken by, have a hard time resisting. That has to be why I’m feeling a sudden attraction.

So if I know the reason, why is my drunk mind still wondering what he’d taste like? What his hands would feel like as they run up my inner thighs? How the slow, even tone of his voice would sound as he loses control?

The silence sparks between us, only interrupted by the distant roll of ocean waves. I draw in a breath and shake my head again. “I’m okay,” I say, and laugh, trying to avoid the questions I don’t want to answer. “Just drunk and enjoying the feeling.”

“Feeling is most definitely a good thing,” he says, straightening up his tall, athletic frame and taking a step toward me, “but, City, I think it’s best if I get you to bed before it starts to not be a good feeling.”

I smile softly at his use of the term of endearment. He gave me the nickname City the first night we met in Las Vegas, back before my life had been torn apart by Lexi’s death. It feels like a lifetime ago when in reality it has only been a year since the unexpected overnight trip with Rylee and Colton to the city of sin where the two of us flirted, first acknowledged the attraction we felt but have never acted on…. I close my eyes and remember the carefree feeling I had that night. I’d called him Country to tease him about that laid back demeanor of his, so opposite from everything I usually find appealing. And yet as he sat there in the Las Vegas nightclub, the club’s lights flashing over his face while he called me City in return, I caught myself wondering just what Beckett Daniels would kiss like.

The question floats through my mind again. Forget about it, Montgomery, I tell myself as I go to place my hand on the railing at my back and miss by a mile, causing him to chuckle, low and soft.

Chills light a path over my skin, and I can’t help the giggle that falls from my lips as my mind wanders to other things I’d rather be feeling right now. Other distractions I could use to shake the bittersweet emotions weighing me down.

Christ on a crutch! Why didn’t I think of it earlier? Going to bed—especially someone else’s—is most definitely a good idea.

That’ll fix it. Always has, these past six months. I’ll just go grab my keys and my cell, call Dylan or Pete and let them know I’m on my way over. I’ll let whoever is the first to answer know that I’m feeling a little sexually festive tonight. I’ll use one of them to try to forget; feel a little less, by feeling a whole lot more.

“Something funny?”

I cover my mouth with my hand but can’t stop myself from snickering. “Just feeling a little festive, is all.” And the giggle returns as I think of Lex and how she used to say that women are not sluts, just sexually festive. And tonight? God, tonight I just want to be that. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to care. I just want to escape a bit from my thoughts.

“Festive, huh?” he asks, eyes appraising me and full mouth tugging up at one corner.

“Yep!” I nod my head. “Time for this girl to carry this party to another location, Country.” I start to walk—well, stumble. Shit! How the hell am I going to drive? I keep walking, hand running across the wall to help steady myself.

“Nice try, Haddie. Did you forget that the limo brought you here? I have to drive you home.”

Crap! I try not to falter. “Well, I guess I’m taking your car, then,” I say as I keep walking away from him.

“That’s funny, but, uh, you’re in no shape to drive.” His voice calls out to me, and the amusement in it pisses me off. “You’re not going anywhere, festivities or not.”

“Like hell I am.” I toss over my shoulder and keep walking toward the house. Just leave me alone, I yell in my head. Don’t go all alpha on me now when all I want from you is slow and steady because I’m way too drunk and way too needy to see in him what I’m attracted to.

“Try me.” The arrogance in his voice sets me off. Pushes me to be bitchy and defiant so that I don’t make a huge mistake I don’t want to make. Do want to make. Fuck if I can think clearly enough to know what I want, but I do know that Beckett’s one of those guys you settle down with … and no way in hell do I want to settle down.

Ever.

The hurt comes flooding back, the memories riding shotgun right alongside them. I stop to steady my legs and remind myself not to repeat the mistakes my sister made.

I can hear him behind me, know he’s waiting for me to respond. “Neither of us is in any state to drive tonight. Festivities are over.” I hear his shoes step on something that crunches just behind me, and I squeeze my eyes shut to fight off the whirlwind of shit in my head. “C’mon, Montgomery. It was a perfect day, but I’m taking you to bed.”

I snort a laugh because even though his comment is innocent in nature since we both told Rylee we’d stay the night to oversee all of the postreception cleanup, Becks just hit the nail on the head. To bed is exactly where I want him to take me right now, his in particular. Wait! No, I don’t want that. Goddamn alcohol is making me wishy-washy. I hate wishy-washy.

He says my name again, and something in the way he says it causes my feet to falter. We stand there, my back to him, in a silent standoff. I don’t move, don’t turn around to face him, because I just want to run. Rewind time and get me back again. The carefree, careless me who has been drowning in grief these past few months.

His hand closes over my biceps, and I don’t know why I’m so angry at him, but I am. I don’t want to be touched gently. I don’t want to be coddled. I just want to leave so I can escape the memories today dredged up from deep within me, reopening the wounds I don’t think will ever heal.

I turn around, trying to shrug out of his grasp, but the movement makes me wobble on my heels. “Whoa!” I hear him say as one of my ankles gives out and I fall into him. His back is pressed against the wall, and I land solidly against him.

It’s not as if I haven’t been in this position with him tonight already. We danced so many times earlier during the reception, so why is it that this time, when my breasts rub against the firmness of his chest, the fight leaves me? The need fills me? I don’t even want to think about it, but it’s all I can focus on when our bodies touch from chest to thigh. It’s all my mind can grasp, because when I look up at him from beneath my lashes, my eyes catch sight of that magnificent mouth of his.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the sentimental aftermath of watching two people who really belong together get married. Maybe it’s because I felt closer to Lexi today than I have in a long while. I don’t know. What I do know is that I don’t give a fuck about mistakes or consequences. I just need to feel. Need to lose myself. And shit, it’s just Becks after all.

I don’t meet his eyes. Don’t want to know whether he wants this, because I do. I lean forward and press my lips to his, not giving him any time to react because damn if his lips aren’t the perfect combination of firm and soft. His body tenses as mine softens into him, and I slide my hands up his chest at the same time my tongue slips between his lips. I moan softly at the warmth of his mouth, the taste of the rum on his tongue, the feel of his breath catching. His strong palms slide slowly up my bare arms as we sink further into the kiss, when all of a sudden his fingers dig into my shoulders and he’s pushing me away. A shocked gasp falls from both of our mouths when our connection is broken.

“Haddie.” His voice is pained as he says my name, a contradictory plea and curse at the same time.

And my mind may be a little fuzzy and my body coiled so tight from his kiss, but that break in his voice tells me he more than enjoyed it. That he wants me just as badly as I want him.

I force myself to look up, meet the clouded shock in his eyes. “What? Don’t you want me, Becks?”

I feel his fingers tense on my shoulders, hear a strained chuckle deep in his throat. “Oh, there’s a whole lot of want here,” he says before closing his eyes momentarily. He works a swallow in his throat and then pushes me away. “I’m just trying to play it safe, Had.”

His rejection stings—the alcohol softening the blow—but I feel the hesitancy in his fingers before he removes them from my shoulders. And with desire coursing through me, lust fueling its fire, I use my need to forget as the match to light the flame.

I step into him, slide my hands up his crisp white shirt, and meet his eyes. “C’mon, how much safer can we be? I’m with you, aren’t I? You’re not going to hurt me … are you, Becks?” I may have drunk a lot tonight, but I know desire when I see it, and damn if it doesn’t look sexy on Becks.

His jaw clenches, head tilts ever so slightly to the side, and his body tenses as he stares at me through the moonlit night.

“Isn’t it normal for the best man and the maid of honor to hook up, anyway?”

“Haddie.” My name is a drawn-out sigh, and I can hear his frustration laced with desire. I can feel the heat of his breath hit my lips.

The way he says my name causes the fire within me to rage because now I know the answer to my question: how he sounds when he loses control. And if he thought he was going to push me away after hearing that, he’s got another think coming.

“No one wants to play it safe tonight…. Live a little,” I tell him, reaching out and running a fingernail up the hollow of his neck where his shirt is unbuttoned. I lean in closer and whisper, “Please, help me live a little.”

“Oh, I believe you live a whole lot.” He chuckles with a subtle shake of his head, but those blue eyes of his remain locked on mine, a war of unexpressed emotions between us. “That’s what I love about you.”

My need to have him escalates with his nonchalance. And fuck, this is frustrating. Can’t a girl just get laid here? I’m not used to having to convince guys to get what I want, so why in the hell is this so difficult?

“I didn’t say shit about love, Country.” I say the words playfully but taste his rejection on my lips. “I don’t need strings. I just need you to make me feel … help me lose myself for a bit.”

He leans his head forward so that we are eye to eye, his hands coming up to frame my face so that I can see the concern and unwanted desire dancing in them. “I didn’t know you wanted to be lost.”

“We all need to lose ourselves sometimes, don’t we?” My question hangs in the still of the night as his eyes search mine for answers I won’t give.

He shakes his head, and I can tell he’s trying to convince himself to step away. “I don’t want to complicate things,” he says with a clenched jaw as he lowers his hands slowly from my face and stands back. Physically distancing himself to emphasize his words, but they contradict the look in his eyes.

“No complications. I told you, Becks,” I say, trying to keep the desperation I suddenly feel from my voice, “no strings, just sex. A little release after this incredible day. C’mon, what guy would pass up that chance?”

He groans. “A guy who’s trying really hard to do the right thing here and play it safe.” He steps forward, and I think I’ve gotten to him. He places an arm around my shoulder and starts steering me into the house. “C’mon, festive Haddie, I’m gonna help you to your room.”

“You’re a buzz kill, Becks,” I whine like a petulant child, nearly stomping my four-inch heels.

“And you’re a lot drunk like me,” he says into the crown of my head, followed by a chaste kiss. “Hell, if I don’t want you, Had … hell, if I don’t doubt that sex with you would be incredible, but fuck, I don’t want to do anything we’d regret in the morning because we’re drunk. Don’t want there to be awkwardness every time we hang out together. And goddamm it if you’re not making it hard to do the respectable thing and walk away.” The heat of his breath on my scalp sends chills down my spine.

“Aha!” I shout out, feeling like my feet are a bit more steady, now that I know he’s not really rejecting me, but being the good guy I pegged him to be. “You do want me!”

He stops immediately and looks down at me as if I’m crazy, brow furrowed, eyes wide. He starts to say something and then stops and shakes his head, before sighing and starting to move again. I turn into his body so that I can look up at him as he steers us through the house to our respective rooms. I take in his strong jaw and tanned skin and wonder what he would taste like as I run my tongue up the line of his neck. The ache of sensations that at this point I can only imagine spiral through me, make me even more determined than ever to prove to Becks that I need this, need him, tonight, and that we can do this without complications.

Shit, every man needs a push now and again…. Guess I’d better start pushing.

He stops walking and raises his eyebrows with a lift of his chin toward the open door to my room. It’s now or never, Had. I press against him, the hum of my desire igniting instantly. “Please, Becks?” I lower the pitch of my voice even though it’s just the two of us. “All of the romance and nostalgia of tonight didn’t get to you? Didn’t make you need the comfort of a woman? Want to hear her moan, bury yourself in her, feel her heat?”

My God, my own damn words are turning me on. My attempt at seducing Becks is making my own need undeniable. I lean up and bring my lips to his ear. “Comfort me, Becks.”

“You’re making it so damn hard to be good.” He says it like a curse, and when I step back, his body instinctively moves forward. His reaction causes a part of the old me to spark to life, and I grab onto it. I hold it tight as I push the sappy, needy, emotional Haddie away. And I welcome the forward, balls-to-the-wall attitude that’s been drowned by my grief.

And God, it feels good, slipping back into her shoes, even if for just a bit.

“Hard. Hm,” I hum deep in my throat, “now, there’s a good word.”

I step backward into the room, my eyes still trained on him as he stands in the doorframe, hands gripping the sides. I know I’ve won him over, know it’ll just take my next move to get what I’ve been working toward. What I desperately need.

And as I stare at him so handsomely framed in the doorway, I wonder fleetingly what it is about this moment that has made me feel normal again. Allowed me to shed the guilt that’s burdened me and taken my carefree attitude with it. I push the civil war of thoughts that’s been a constant refrain as of late from my head. I don’t allow myself to think any more about it, because all I want to do is feel.

With our eyes locked, I pull down the zipper of my dress. “Hey, Becks?” His eyes widen at the coy tone to my voice. The dress falls and pools around my feet. “Fuck playing it safe.”