Blazed(7)

But why the hell was I complaining? I'd wished him, so if he was going to send me down in a blaze of embarrassment and public humiliation, it was my own damned fault.





Three



OUR ROUTE LED us to Hyde Park, where skating seemed to be far less bizarre. Girls in daisy dukes and tank tops spun around skillfully with their bandana wearing boyfriends to the music pounding from portable CD players, swirling around us like we were no real obstacle. Masses of people called Blaze's name when they saw us, proving to me just how notorious the man was, and their curious frowns at our linked hands were a confirmation that this was not his usual means of association. Like I had any doubt. I shook my grip free and folded my hands securely under my arms, painfully aware that I didn't fit in wearing tattered grey slacks and a style-less work shirt.

Apparently sensing my insecurity, Blaze pointed at my shirt and shook his head authoritatively. "Off."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, not off as such. Undo the bottom buttons and tie it up like a bolero." Sparing a quick glance down, I rolled a foot away from him and turned my back on him. Revealing my midriff in public was possibly a bigger anxiety trigger than if he'd asked me to strip naked. At least all eyes would have been fixed on my chest that way. The way my body looked was a secret shame. "Come on, Emmeline. You'll burn up like that. I know that's your specialist area, but—"

I spun back around to him, hands on my hips. Would he ever let that go? "It's Emmy, not Emmeline, and I'm not doing shit to this outfit. Let me sweat or take me home."

"Interesting set of options," he murmured, trying not to laugh at the fact that I'd been unwittingly suggestive and had the blush to show that I knew it, "but seriously, whatever your beef is with your body, nobody cares what you look like here. Check it." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at a seriously overweight man wearing less clothes than decent. "You could be seriously disfigured and nobody would care with this guy hogging the vista." I froze, numbed by his unintentional perceptiveness.

He arched a brow at my expressionless face and took advantage of my stillness. "Okay, I'll just sort you out myself."

Before I had any time to object, he had the bottoms of my shirt tied off low enough to not reveal flesh and my sleeves rolled up. Surprised by his swiftness and embarrassed by the fight I'd put up over nothing, I stared at him, struggling to muster the smile he'd so easily caused before. If he sensed my inner turmoil about being so dangerously close to being exposed, he didn't give it away when he turned me back around and began to pluck the bobby pins from the French knot styled into my hair.

"So how long is this mane of yours?"

"Very. That's why it was tied up." He must have ignored the blatant vehemence in my voice too because he kept on pulling at the pins until there was nothing to stop it tumbling free. His fingers sifted through the strands of raven from root to the tips that ended at my waist.

"Jesus." Something in his tone made my stomach flip. It was carnal and raw— something that had no place being directed at me. I'd been object of enough men and women's affections to hear lust in a voice, but Christ, this was so primitive that I half expected his teeth to sink into me. "Why the hell don't you wear it down all the time?"

"It gets in the way," I whispered, scared to turn around and see if his face matched his silky growl, "you'd find out how much if you backed up enough for me to stop feeling like your prey." Immediately, he stepped back out of my personal space, but I could still feel his intensity permeating off him in waves. I was sure my brain was starting to bleed from how severely sexual he was, and I decided in that minute that, as popular and gorgeous as he was, I wouldn't grant him the privilege of being treated any differently from any other man who was drawn to me. If one night in my bed was what he was looking for, he'd get it without this charade.

"There are easier ways to score a lay than with disingenuous flattery and outlandish dates, you know." My fists clenched at my sides as he closed in on me, grabbing me by the hips to pull me right up against him. His hands so close to my bare skin made me sway— I wanted them lower, tensing and flexing, nails biting into my skin as I rode him... My head tipped back to catch a first time glimpse of the twining flecks of copper coursing through his irises. "Wow." Ugh, dammit...

"Cute," he laughed, "but I've got you pegged, Emmeline. You'd be surprised how much you give away without even knowing it, and trust me, I'm no enabler. If you think I brought you here as part of some juvenile mating ritual, you're wrong."

"So why did you bring me here?"

He frowned, slowly releasing me. "I don't know. I didn't even think about it. But I'm not an idiot— I know that if I took you home and screwed you now, I'd never see you again."

"So?"

Scowling, he ducked down and planted a quick kiss right on my lips. I jerked back in surprise, baffled by the passionless advance. "No. I'm not nearly done terrorising you."



HIS rejection didn't hurt as much as it should have, unlike my palms and knees after repeated impact with the concrete. An hour in the baking June evening sun proved that I wasn't half as graceful as he was and not nearly as reflexive. Every time I fell, he darted over to me to save me but ended up on the floor with me. While he laughed, I sulked, feeling like an uncoordinated no-hoper.

"We're not doing that again," I huffed, rolling my eyes at being carried around like a sleepy child. There was no denying that being that close to him was a treat for all the senses— he smelled divinely of shower gel, sweat and himself— but the blood soaking through the fabric of my slacks made me feel more idiotic than the rollerskates did. Pain didn't bother me, but it seemed to bother Blaze, who insisted on carrying me back to his silver bug car en route a pharmacy so he could clean me up when I winced uncontrollably with every step.

"Agreed," he nodded, "I should have guessed that you were too accident prone for something my seven year old nephew does quite capably."

"Don't mock me. I know people." Throwing his head back to laugh, Blaze set me down on the bonnet of his car and lifted my trouser legs to survey the damage. His laugh was almost as silken and seductive as his voice, a good distraction. "Is it bad?"

"You'll live. Though judging from the state of these kneecaps, you're no stranger to falling over."

"Occupational hazard. I'm a professional wino." He ripped the packet of an antiseptic wipe open and seemed to look up for signs of life when I didn't flinch.

"So you're kind of self-destructive?" What the hell kind of question was that to ask a woman he'd just met?

"I got in a car with a total stranger and you're only just realising this? Sure, I'm 'kind of' self-destructive like the Pope is 'kind of' Catholic."

He didn't answer until he'd finished cleaning my grazes. "What would it take to change that?" Why the hell do you care?

"Crack." As much as he tried, he just couldn't resist laughing at the dark joke, making it somehow clear that he knew I wasn't that kind of person.

"You always drink at Esme's?"

"Yup. The five of us— we're a coven. We call the corners every night and substitute the virgin's blood for red wine because we're strict vegetarians."

His brow arched with wry amusement. "Do you ever stop being 'on'?"

"No, I'm like a wind turbine. Or a solar powered calculator."

After removing the skates and replacing my shoes, he pulled me up to my feet and guided me to the passenger seat by the small of my back. In just ninety minutes, it had become like he'd been in my life forever. He was easy to be around, too easy. His little touches and secret smiles felt special and gifted to only me, and he was going to have to knock that right off. There was no space in my head for another man. Hunter, Chris, Daniel and Jonathan had my 'platonic penis' quota covered. "You never actually told me why you don't socialise with women."

Blaze looked at me like he'd known the question was coming and was glad I'd finally cracked. "Honestly? Without sounded conceited, it's impossible to find a woman out there who doesn't want me to fall in love with her and whisk her off to my ivory tower. Better to steer clear of temptation. I can't get attached."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't. And neither can you." He turned to me, catching me in a gaze so shimmering hot it was like watching magma bubble, and it burned right through my resistances to the truth inside me. I'd never felt so much like an open book to someone. "I told you, I've got you pegged. I don't know the why's, what's and who's, but I knew last night that when you looked at me, you wanted nothing more than to screw me senseless and send me packing. Not a single white picket fence in sight in that scorching hot f*cklust stare of yours."