How Beauty Loved the Beast Read online

He wanted much more but even that meant a great deal to him. He’d been alone for so long it was a comfort to have somebody to share a bed with, to wake up next to, hell, to engage in simple rituals like brushing his teeth with. And they would have more on another day.

  Toned, flexible legs circled behind him, that towel skimming her upper thighs. He tried to keep his mouth closed and eyes from showing exactly how voracious she made him feel. Please, gods, may they have more. Soon.

  His toothbrush waved in front of his view. With a smug grin she handed it over. His fingers trembled as he took it. If she noticed she didn’t comment, but that grin said she knew exactly what he wanted. As she reached for the toothpaste, she bumped hips with him and hummed a little more until her own toothbrush was in her mouth.

  He tried not to stare as he started his own nightly sink rituals, but every little movement she made fascinated him. The way her eyes studied the room and seemed to approve of whatever she saw. The way her free hand, with its short nails and chipped polish, rested lightly against the copper sink. The way her shoulders bounced to the same rhythm as the brush moving in and out of her mouth, like she was still singing in her head.

  She caught him watching, and the motion of the brush slowed suggestively in and out. His mouth went dry. He faced the mirror. Turned back to find a devilish light in her eyes. The brush slid slowly in and out of her lips one more time before she finished in an arrhythmic rush.

  She was flirting again. He didn’t know why it surprised him so much. It wasn’t the first time she’d flirted with him. She’d just never been so blatantly sexual about it before.

  Why the change? Because now she might do that for him if he asked?

  His stomach dropped in anticipation, and once again he tried to wrap his brain around the idea that Jolie was his. Well, not his as in exclusively his—though hopefully that would one day be the case. But she was his to touch if he wanted to. His to hold. Maybe even his to throw on his bed and make love to.

  They took turns rinsing. She slid her palm across his hips as she passed on her way to the bed, still wearing nothing but a towel.

  He followed. Be civil. Be concerned about her feelings. Don’t jump on her like a lust-drunk teenager. “How are you doing?” he asked lamely.

  She reached his bed. “I could use a distraction,” she answered, her seductive smile almost eclipsing the lingering traces of tenseness. Her gaze dipped up and down his body, and he tried not to think about what she saw. The darkness in her expression deepened, as if somehow she was pleased, and she straightened her spine, bringing the round firmness of her breasts beneath the towel up on even better display. Staring back into his eyes, she said, “A look like that could give a girl the wrong impression.”

  She was quoting him from the morning they first met face-to-face when he’d stepped into the room wearing only a towel. He knew how this conversation started, but he’d be happy to change the way it ended. “You’re standing between me and my bed.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I guess you’ve got a decision to make. You can walk around me, or grab the towel and—”

  He didn’t wait for her to finish. With a flick of his wrist, the fabric dropped between them. She stood proudly, every bit of her clear skin and luscious curves exposed.

  “Now what’re you gonna do?” she asked.

  He picked her up and tossed her on his bed. She laughed. He gave himself a moment to enjoy the sight of her red hair and pale skin against the brown coffee of his sheets. Then he joined her.

  She pulled him to her, twining her arms around him.

  “I’m going to distract you,” he answered and kissed her. She was still damp and wicked hot as he pulled himself on top of her, pressing her body between his own and the bed.

  Her hands moved suddenly, leaving his back to cradle his jaw.

  He jerked back in surprise then suppressed a curse.

  She wrinkled her cute little nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She put her hands tentatively back on his face. He closed his eyes and felt the solid pressure of her fingers.

  The touch was so simple, so wonderful, and yet even such a small thing as her palms against the naked skin of his cheeks made him feel raw and exposed. It wasn’t vanity; it came from far deeper than that. It was a gut level drive to protect himself, coupled with years of reaffirmation. Pulling away had become instinct.

  But he didn’t want to pull away from her.

  “You’ve told me before,” she said in a soft voice, “that I can ask you anything I want. That it’s better to speak up than to stay silent. Is that still true?”

  He didn’t open his eyes as he nodded.

  “Then what did I do that startled you? Is it where I touched you? How? What happened?”

  Gods, it humiliated him that she had to ask such things, and it took him back to an awful place and time to try to answer.

  Don’t shut down. Don’t shut down...

  If he wanted her, he had to find the strength to give her these most damaged pieces of himself.

  Chapter Five

  Jolie silently pleaded with Hauk to answer her. They needed to be able to talk if they were going to make a relationship work, and she desperately wanted them to work.

  Hauk held himself above her, muscles clenched.

  She didn’t know what else she could say or how she could reassure him without touching his pride. That was too fragile right now to risk. Leaning up until her mouth was a hairsbreadth from his, she said a word that rarely crossed her lips as more than a polite custom: “Please.” She kissed him gently. “Please, Hauk, for me. I want you to talk to me.”

  His eyes opened, their confused shine taking her in with so much pain, so much need.

  “Please,” she whispered again.

  He swallowed and shook his head dismissively, but still he said, “Sudden movement. It just startled me. That shouldn’t—”

  She showed him her hands then cupped his jaw firmly, getting those eyes back on hers. “There is no should or shouldn’t. There’s just what is. Things may be different in the future, but I’m here with you in the now. I want you as you are right now. Not as you think you should be. Not as you want to be. As you are.”

  With a shuddering breath, his muscles began to unclench.

  She smoothed her thumb across his cheek and decided to push, just a little. “Can you give me one other piece of advice? I’ll take more if you’re willing to share, but please, at least one more thing.” She grinned softly. “I want to make you feel good, but I’d like some help.”

  A tiny smile and a blush turned his expression almost boyish. A sense of victory warmed her. He was going to keep talking.

  His fingers trailed, feather-soft, up her arm. “This?” he said, indicating the heavenly brush of his gentle touch. “I can’t feel it in a lot of places.” He ducked his head. “I don’t like it when sensation goes in and out. Reminds me that...well, you know.” He cleared his throat and straightened his spine. “It reminds me what a mess you have to face. I want better for you than that.”

  Jolie opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with a hand to her lips.

  “Don’t. Don’t say anything, please.” He shifted uncomfortably, and she quieted. She didn’t really know what she’d say, anyway. His looks didn’t bother her, but if their positions were reversed she wouldn’t want to discuss it, either.

  “As I was saying.” His hand stroked her arm, more firmly this time, with a smooth pressure that glided up her skin. “That I can feel almost everywhere. I think I would like that better.”

  His “I think” struck her. In many ways, he was going to have to relearn what he liked, what turned him on the most, what drove him to the edge the quickest and how to kindle a slow burn that lasted.

  And she would get to help him. The prospect made her insides quiver.

  She bit her lip and assessed him. “I can work with that.” Slowly sh
e dragged one leg up his side, keeping the contact tight and firm. “I’m pretty flexible, you know.” She kept going until she had one ankle beside his head.

  He gawked at her foot, and she could practically see all the blood required for heavy thinking exit his brain to move south.

  Good. “One of the nice things about dating a dancer,” she added.

  He reached for her foot. “Can we be done talking now?” His hands encircled her foot and caressed down to her ankle, starting fires of anticipation all through her.

  “I like that idea.”

  He kissed her heel. “I want to touch you everywhere.” His fingers stroked around and down her leg in a sensual examination as his lips and tongue made a slow journey up her calf. Each touch told her she was cherished.

  She relaxed back into the pillows. “I want to touch you, too.”

  A pause. “Yeah,” he finally answered, voice gruff. His eyes, dark as stormy waters, met hers briefly before he returned to his exploration, tickling the back of her knee with his tongue.

  She pressed her hand against the slant of his waist on the right side. He hesitated again, and she waited for him to continue touching her before she smoothed her hand up his back, touching him with the firm pressure he’d said he wanted.

  A cotton shirt separated her from his skin, but she could still feel the way it rippled and dimpled and then smoothed as she reached a rare place the fire hadn’t touched.

  She’d held Hauk in a brief hug before. She’d touched him clinically as they worked out. She’d never really felt his body. Touched it and concentrated on the pattern of it. It was a strange sensation, the way the surface changed at random, like the rolling waves of a solid lake instead of the smooth contours of most men’s skin. But she didn’t mind. It was fascinating. Unpredictable.

  But most importantly, it was Hauk.

  He kissed the crease of her hip, scraped his teeth along the bone. His teasing sent pleasure radiating through her, and she moaned and arched her back.

  Again careful not to startle him, she placed her hand on his head and stroked his scalp across the phoenix tattoo.

  His gaze caught and held hers, his features tense with both fear and lust. She’d make sure the latter prevailed.

  “Other leg,” he ordered.

  Grinning, she slowly switched legs, scraping her feet across his body. His breath grew shallow as his eyes glazed.

  His shaking fingers latched onto her thigh. He closed his eyes. “My left is worse...”

  She squeezed his waist, and he shut up. No warning was necessary. She knew his left side had received the most damage but didn’t care. As his hot mouth went to work on her other leg, she pressed against him, harder this time, as he would have even less sensation on this side.

  She needed him to feel her.

  His breathing picked up. He groaned then nuzzled his face against her inner thigh. “I can’t...I can’t...”

  “What is it?”

  He answered by pushing her leg down and flipping her over.

  * * *

  Too much. Gods, she was so perfect and too much.

  Hauk lay on top of her, face buried against her neck as he tried to get the wild reactions of his body back under control.

  His body was a weapon. He revealed his face to intimidate an opponent. He used his hands, his hips, his feet—all of it—to break and harm. It was all he’d physically done since the fire, each move carefully calculated for maximum control. Each maneuver designed to keep as much of him from touching his opponent as possible.

  He didn’t know what to do with the near uncontrollable desires rushing through him, urging him to fall on her like an animal when he’d worked so damn hard to prove he was still a man. She overwhelmed him completely, and he still had his fucking clothes on.

  “Jolie—”

  “If you apologize, I will scream at you.”

  Her response elicited a started laugh from him. He had been about to do just that.

  “There will be no apologies for the hottest thing that’s happened to me since the sheet game.” She lifted her head, twisting around so she could smile back at him. “No, this is better.” Her hand reached back to smack him on the hip. “Three hundred and sixty degrees of fun instead of such a limiting two-D experience.”

  “You are crazy, you know that?”

  Her grin simmered. “Crazy turned on. Crazy hot for you. Hoping like crazy you’ll keep going and get me off.”

  There was no turning that down. He just had to find ways to keep under control. He could do that. She was worth doing that. He moved to kiss her shoulder but stopped when he saw the mostly healed burn where she’d taken a torching for him. “How’s your neck?”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “Although don’t press too hard. It’s still a little sensitive. But you can touch it.”

  He examined the healing spot where, for just a few inches, her skin matched his, and his ardor got the cool-off it needed. He’d wrestled with guilt as he lay in the hospital. Mostly because she’d burned for him, placing herself between him and a flamethrower. But also because some insane part of him liked that she knew him this way, that they shared this, even just a little bit. It was terrible because he didn’t wish her any harm. If he could go back, he’d find a way to take the fire for her.

  But right here with this little patch of damaged skin, she knew him in a way that only somebody with a real burn could. He’d do his damnedest to make sure she never felt that again.

  After planting a soft kiss on the center of the burn, he moved his attention to her back. This was easier, kissing her without her hands roving over him. She couldn’t look at him, but he could explore her skin without a barrier between them, watch each shiver as it hit her and hear the sweet sounds coming from low in her throat that told him she liked the way he touched her.

  Plus, he had a perfect view of her ass.

  He kissed down the ridges of her spine as he stroked her curves with his palms. She smelled like the citrus of his soap, tasted of oranges and the faint salt of sweat. He wanted to know every part of her, how she felt, how she tasted, how she moved.

  She sighed his name, and his body began to ramp back up. He nipped her ass. She groaned. Added a “Please...”

  He flipped her back over.

  She reached for him. He caught her wrists in one hand to press them over her head. He would let her touch him, but not yet. He had to rein himself in too tightly. Her hands would push him over the edge too fast.

  He straddled one of her thighs. She stretched provocatively beneath him. Once again he marveled that she was here, in his bed, naked and wanting.

  She tugged against his hand with an impatient pout.

  “Not okay?” he asked, loosening his hold.

  She quit struggling. “You can pin me down anytime you want.” Her pout bent up into an evil smile. “Just remember, turnabout’s fair play.”

  He laughed. “If you can pin my hands in one of yours, I’ll submit.”

  She leaned as far up as his hold would let her. “What makes you think I’ll use my hands?”

  His breath caught. The bed at her condo was a sturdy metal four-poster, and his first thought on seeing it had been how well a pair of handcuffs would fit around them. Handcuffs for her. The image turned him on so much he felt a hint of his old confidence sliding through him. He could get back to the man he was, if she could stick by him long enough.

  He’d have to make sure she was happy enough to stay.

  “You still gotta catch me first,” he said. He palmed her hip with his free hand and dipped down to kiss her neck.

  “I have my ways,” she gasped, arching into him.

  He kissed down her sternum then up the curve of one breast. Her moans escalated as he tasted her again and again. When her sighs grew into pleading, he kissed her mouth and slid his hand down. “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.”

  “I want your hands on me.”

  “Like this?” He slid his fingers against her
sex, warm and wet from his efforts. The feel of her made him groan. Again he buried his face against her neck, trying to stop the sensation of her from drowning him.

  “Please, Hauk. Please. I need you.”

  Him. She needed him. He released her hands to cup her face.

  One of her hands slid to his back and the other tangled in the sheet, gripping as tight as the tension in her body.

  He caressed her sex, learning her intimately as he kissed her mouth. Her hips found the rhythm of his fingers and moved in time, driving her closer. He wanted to watch her as she came, but that meant she could watch him too. He didn’t want anything to interfere with her fantasy.

  He moved his hand from her cheek to cover her eyes. “Is this okay?”

  She laughed a gasping sound. “I trust you.”

  Another kiss. Still teasing her with his thumb, he pushed two fingers deep inside her. Her sweat-slicked skin quivered in the candlelight as her orgasm took her. Crying out, she clenched and pulsed around his fingers.

  One day it would be more than his fingers. One day it would be him, calling her name when they tipped over the edge together.

  He gasped at the glorious thought, gathered her close and cradled her trembling body. Mine. He wanted her all to himself every night, forever.

  Her arms wound around his neck. Her lips pushed soft kisses across his jaw. She was so sure of herself, so perfect in every way that mattered, and she let him touch her.

  “Thank you,” he murmured into her hair. “Thank you, thank you.”

  She pushed against his shoulder, pressing him onto his back with a joyful laugh. “Don’t thank me yet, babe.” She resettled against him then undulated her body against his. Her thigh slid between his legs, and she rubbed it against an erection he’d had five years of practice ignoring. She winked at him. “My Army man’s got a cannon in his pocket. I want to see it go off.” She dragged her hand firmly down his chest. “You gonna let me?”

  Oh, hell yes. She kissed his neck then licked down the curve to where his T-shirt began. Her hand continued its trek toward his cock.

  The first caress across the fabric of his pants made him jerk. “I’m afraid this isn’t going to—” he gulped, “—to last long.”