A Twist Of Heat (H.E.A.T. Book 2.5) Read online

  She sighs, lowers her face so she is grinning at the floor and waits patiently. Gracefully. Serenely.

  This woman would let me lead her anywhere.

  For now, I am leading her home.

  She’s silent in the car on the drive from the city centre south. But I couldn’t be happier. I’m unsure where things will go with Lara, but I have faith that Haydee can help me open up to my daughter just like she’s helped me open up to her. There’s something about this creature beside me, something compelling and intriguing and addictive. But also so very calm. She soothes me. She evens me out. Balances the rough with the smooth.

  She’s the half of me that has been missing. Perfectly matched. Beautifully crafted. Made just for my pleasure.

  I let a small laugh out as I pull into my drive. I know her eyes are on me. What does she see?

  I turn and offer a wink, then slide out of the car and swiftly walk around to her side, opening her door and helping her alight from the vehicle. She knows to wait for me. She knows this is something I like to do. For her.

  I slip our hands together, fingers laced and lead her up to the back door.

  “Have you got your key?” I ask before we reach it.

  She nods her head.

  “Then unlock the door.”

  She fishes it out of her evening bag and with steady hands slips the key in the lock. She’s only used it when I’ve already been home and waiting. But this feels significant. Important. A stepping stone I didn’t even know I needed to take.

  “Open the door, pet,” I say and watch her smile.

  Haydee’s heart might be my woman, but her body is all my pet.

  “The code is 58214, “ I say and watch as she enters it into the alarm system. “Lock the door behind us,” I instruct and walk through the utility room into the kitchen.

  I glance around as I hear the click of the lock on the door. I haven’t had Haydee in our kitchen before. Or the den. Or the library. Or any of the guest bedrooms. I guess we’ll be christening the entire house before long, but this evening I want to feast on my woman.

  I turn back and slap my hand down on the large wooden bench in the centre of the kitchen. It’s an old country kitchen, with rough hewn tiles on the floor, shaker style cabinets, and a pot rack hanging directly above.

  “Up you get, sweet one,” I say, indicating the bench. “Stand up and strip for me.”

  She drops her handbag and slips out of her shoes. I allow it. Climbing up onto kitchen benches in high heels could be dangerous. Then, as if she’s a gymnast, she vaults up onto the bench and lands on her rear. The move is playful, not sensual. And that’s what I love about this girl. She has fun. She takes while I take. And it just makes me want to give her more.

  She’s up on her knees, and then is standing, before I’ve taken a seat at one of the bar stools that rim the serving bench off to one side. I pour myself a Scotch and lean back, elbows to the bench as Haydee begins to slip out of her dress before my eyes.

  The window over the sink is bare; I don’t bother with curtains in here, but if a neighbour should look over the fence they could get an eyeful.

  “Are you worried about the window?” I ask between sips of my drink.

  She shakes her head. It is darker in here than outside still, but I get up from my chair and switch on the light, bathing her near naked body in a warm yellow glow.

  “And now?” Another head shake. She trusts me.

  My neighbours work late on the weekends, I know no one is home.

  I smile at her and settle back in my seat as she pulls off first one stocking and then the other.

  “Leave the garters,” I say. “And raise your arms above your head, wrapping your hands around the rack.”

  Her chain glints in the lights. Her body glistens.

  “I’m going to tell you my fantasy,” I say, and she beams down at me. “It involves the body of a goddess and the soul of a saint. And a heart so big and beautiful it brings tears to your eyes. But that’s not the best part,” I add, placing my drink down on the counter and pushing up from my seat.

  I walk towards her, our eyes locked on each other.

  “My fantasy is stealing her away from the world. Keeping her for my very own.”

  I start undoing my bow tie, slipping out of my jacket.

  “Of worshipping her body and cradling her heart. Of soothing her soul.”

  My shirt comes undone and then my trousers.

  “She sings to me in her silence. She screams for me when she comes.”

  My shoes and socks are gone and I’m naked, worshipping before my goddess.

  “She lets me take and take some more,” I say, as I climb up on the bench with her. “She fills me up when I empty myself deep inside. She’s mine,” I whisper. “In every way.”

  I lean forward. I don’t touch her chain or her body, just move my lips until they are just above hers.

  “As I have been hers from the very first day.”

  And then I’m kissing her. My arms wrapped around her body, one hand up and securely holding the back of her neck, the other cupping her butt cheek. Our tongues dance as she sways on the pot rack, not releasing her grip until I say. My cocks rubs up against her body, pressing back into mine when she tries to get closer. Hungry little noises spill from her mouth as I lick and bite and suck on her lips, my tongue flicking out and diving in deep, tangling us together.

  I know the feelings now. I’m familiar with them. As though they are part of me somehow. I want inside her. I want under her skin like she is under mine. I want to live within her, bathe in her beauty, float free on her sighs.

  I want it all.

  “Tell me,” I breathe into her neck, my hands roaming down her body until I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist, like they had been back at the banquet. I know she’s remembering. Her head tips back looking for the stars and only sees brass pots and clattering utensils.

  “Tell me,” I repeat as I sink myself deep inside. Bliss. I start rocking, my eyes on her face, her breasts bouncing between our bodies, her gasps filling up the heated air and competing with the cooking equipment.

  “Tell me,” I urged, as my fingers dig into flesh and my cock impales her on long, hard thrusts.

  She bites her lip and then smiles at me.

  Little minx.

  I increase my pace, revel in her moans of ecstasy. She’s close. She thinks she’s in control. She draws me in, holds me prisoner, all with a soft pant, a pliant roll of her hips, a tight, wet welcoming.

  I am home.

  “Still won’t tell me, little pet?” I ask between small grunts of exertion. I give her everything.

  She shakes her head and then lets out a squeak, followed by a moan, when I circle my hips, surprising her with the change of angle, and then stealing her breath away with a purposeful thrust deep inside. I endeavour to reach the very heart of her with each long, hard pound of my cock inside.

  “Oh,” she manages and receives another limb quaking, body possessing thrust.

  “Tell me,” I demand, fucking her harder, letting our skin slap together in a rhythm as old as time, counterpoint to the rattle and sway of the pots and pans above our heads.

  I time the rhythm. Thrust of my cock, gasp of air as she takes me, circle of my hips. Rinse and repeat. She’s lost. She’s free. She’s taking me with her. She’s coated in sweat now, and I watch as she moans and writhes on top of me. She’s about to come, and I want her to say the fucking words.

  “Tell me,” I say, going perfectly still. She wriggles. I tilt my head to the side and raise my brow. I’m sweating, shaking, black spots dance before my eyes with the strain to hold back.

  I see the moment she releases she won’t get what she wants until I do.

  Her eyes meet mine, her smile is my undoing.

  Or so I thought, until she says the words.

  “I’m in love with you, Ethan.”

  Oh, fuck.

  I grab her hands from the rack, wrap them aroun
d my shoulders, feel her nails dig into flesh and then take her. My kiss is hard. My cock is pounding into her harder. And my careful hand around her throat promises protection and my kind of freedom.

  She comes, her mouth open, her eyes glazed, her scream silent. I release my hold of her neck and watch as oxygen rushes back in through gasping lips, watch as the imprint of my fingers turn from blue, to white, to red as blood flows back through her system.

  Fuck! I stare at the sensational sight as I come; my release goes on forever. I give her all of me, even as I take and take and take.

  “Haydee,” I say, clinging to her. Or she is to me? “Fuck, Haydee,” I add, and somehow manage to get us both down off our stage.

  I sink to the tiled floor with her wrapped around me, sitting chest to chest, knees on either side of my hips. I’m still buried inside her. I may never leave.

  “Wow,” she says, and the word is raspy.

  I chuckle and pull back, then check her neck again, feeling myself harden.

  She raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t say anything.

  “Are you all right?” I ask. She offers me her signature serene smile and nods her head.

  “I’m not finished with you,” I warn, making my cock jerk inside her to prove my point.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed,” she teases softly.

  “Must I gag you, Haydee?” I ask, with mock grimness.

  “Please, master,” she purrs in my lap.

  “Naughty pet,” I scold playfully and then move up to my knees, and push up from the floor.

  I’m not letting her go.

  I take her up to my bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat up. I realise she’s looking up at me. I glance down.

  “Beautiful,” she whispers and I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had a woman say that to me before.

  I’m fifty-one years old. I’m fit and athletic, well toned, but there’s grey threaded through my dark hair. I have tiny wrinkles around my eyes and I know I do not smile enough to have caused them. When I let my beard grow it is almost all silver. I don’t understand pop culture. And until recently I hadn’t spoken to my daughter in more than six years.

  And this woman thinks I’m beautiful.

  We stare at each other, no words needed. This moment will last our lifetime.

  I step into the shower, under the water, and then make love to my sweet pet, my goddess. I move slowly, I look deep in her eyes, I don’t break contact, I tell her every sweet thing I can think of, words tumbling out of my mouth as we gasp and moan and slide together.

  I watch her sleep again. I can’t help it. I’m in heaven. I lie down beside her, her body curved into mine, heated and sated and well used. I will guard her with my life.

  The phone ringing has me scrambling to answer it before she awakens. I made love to her twice more during the night unable to stop myself. I crave her even now. I know the next time I take her, she may be wrapped up in my chain, suspended from a light fixture, and begging for mercy. But tonight, was all about reverence.

  I put the cellphone to my ear and whisper, “Keen.” She sleeps on splendidly, a kitten curled up in my embrace.

  “Did I wake you?” Jason’s voice says, equally as quietly.

  “Haydee’s sleeping. I wore her out.” Old habits. What can I say?

  Jason chuckles down the other end of the line and then sobers.

  “They caught him. Samantha’s murderer. It was Nathaniel. His son helped cover it up.”

  I let that sink in. Then I pull my precious goddess closer and thank God for the gifts I’ve been given.

  “Lara?” I ask, once I’ve gotten myself under control again.

  “All on her. Hart is praising her name to whoever listens.”

  “Huh,” I say, a smile spreading over my lips and unbidden tears filling my eyes.

  Somehow Haydee senses my emotions. She sits up and cups a hand to my cheek, staring down at me with big, beautiful, dark soulful eyes.

  I smile back.

  “Just thought you’d want to know,” Jason says.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, my eyes on Haydee.

  “Don’t mention it.” A pause, then, “Take care of your lady.”

  The line goes dead and I know my friend knows.

  I’m in love with this woman.

  And I’ll never hear the end of his matchmaking skills.

  “Are you OK?” she whispers. I throw the phone to the side and reach up and cup her cheeks, staring into her eyes and losing myself willingly there.

  “I am now,” I whisper back, the words coming from somewhere deep inside me and meaning more, much more, than they ever should.

  She smiles. My heart is so full it threatens to explode.

  I’m twisted up in this woman, I realise. Tied to her as if it is I who wears the chain. Connected by something intangible, but immutable. Something larger than me, bigger than us. I have never felt so small in the face of such vastness. Never so insignificant, and yet at the same time never so full, so complete.

  Haydee heats up my days and burns through my nights. She is an hypnotic flame that ignites me. A fuel my body craves.

  She is everything.

  My secrets are hers to keep. My needs hers to satisfy. And in return I’ll keep her safe. I’ll protect her with my body, with my soul.

  And most miraculously, most importantly, I’ll protect her with all of my heart.

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  About The Author

  Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband and two young boys.

  She's tried her hand at being a paramedic, bank teller and medical sales representative, (not all necessarily in that order), but her love of writing keeps calling her back.

  She has a passion for all things supernatural, spiced up with a good dollop of romance - as long as they include strong characters, alpha males and capable females, and worlds which although make-believe are really quite believable in the end.

  There's nothing better than getting caught up in a compelling, intriguing and romantic book.

  When she's not writing or reading, she's out on her family boat at Lake Taupo, teaching her young boys to fish, showing them the beauty that surrounds them in nature and catching some delicious trout for dinner.

  Creating rich worlds with dynamic characters and unexpected twists that shock and awe has been pure bliss for this author. And just as well, because there's a lot more story yet to tell...

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