The Hotter You Burn Read Free

climb...the weeping willow where she’d experienced her first kiss...the tire swing her father had made during one of his rare moments of affection.
    â€œStop,” Beck commanded. “Now.”
    He sounded close, too close, but he didn’t sound winded. She clutched the pie closer—
try to take it from me, I dare you—
and glanced back. Crap! He was almost on her. She picked up the pace...until several burs lodged in her heels, causing sharp spikes of pain to slow her down. Any second now, Beck would overtake—
    Hard hands snaked around her waist, two hundred pounds of muscle bearing down on her. As she fell, the pie went flying.
    â€œNoooo!” she shouted.
    Impact emptied her lungs. Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped the droplets away with a shaky hand, a whimper escaping when she spotted the dark blueberry splatters now streaming across rock and dirt, the crust now sprinkled with dirt.
    â€œPie killer!” Hello, dark side. “If there’s any justice in the world, you will fry for this.”
    â€œReally?
That’s
what you say to me?” He sat on his haunches, freeing her from the bulk of his weight.
    â€œYou tackled me. I should sue you for everything you own.”
    â€œYes, please do so. Meanwhile, I’ll press charges for trespassing. Now tell me what you were doing with my pie.”
    My pie!
She’d stolen it fair and square. But the trespassing reminder sobered her. “If you think about things like a reasonable adult, you’ll see your crime is worse. Your actions led to the painful death of an innocent dessert.” Now she would go hungry for yet another night.
    Her stomach, the whore, grumbled in protest.
    â€œThe pie was going to die one way or another tonight. I just assumed my mouth would be the weapon of mass destruction, not a dirty little thief determined to blame someone else.”
    He stood, then surprised her by offering her a helping hand. A trick, surely. She declined by pushing to her feet under her own steam. Besides, she’d seen some of the places those hands had been. And, really, she didn’t need to know what they felt like. If they were callused and rough...hot enough to make her burn and quiver the way Tawny and countless others had.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” he asked.
    Why not tell him the truth? He had only to ask the townsfolk about her to hear a thousand stories detailing her reign of terror in high school. Perhaps some kind soul would even mention the time a poll was pinned to the corkboard in the town square: “If given a choice, who would you rather torture? The devil or Harlow Glass?”
    Harlow had won by a landslide.
    â€œI’m Harlow Glass, and I used to live here.”
    His gaze raked over her once, then again far more slowly. “I’m honored. Harlow Glass in the flesh. A sighting rarer than Bigfoot.”
    How did he know? It wasn’t as if he’d ever had a reason to look for her.
    And oh, wow. His voice. He’d pumped up the smoke, making it even better than before, captivating and temping, sending cascades of pleasure rippling through her.
    Danger! Danger!
She widened the distance between them.
    â€œOh, no, you don’t. We’re going back to the house.” He waved her forward.
    Stay strong.
“How cute. You made a funny.”
    His expression hardened, promising severe consequences if she refused him a second time, and yet his tenor softened, no longer quite so menacing. “My apologies for not being clear, sweetheart. You’re coming with me, and that’s that.”
    â€œNo, that’s not that. I have no desire to watch another mouth-to-mouth sesh with Tawny. Let’s just conclude our business here.”
    The smile he unveiled lacked any sort of humor, and yet it utterly devastated her senses, leaving her reeling. “You have two options. One—we discuss the theft and destruction of my pie within the privacy of my home,