Harmony and High Heels

  “It’s not as weird as it sounds. It’s a great honor and obviously one that the network execs are paying attention to.” Harm downed her wine in one long swallow. “And it’s not a fight club. It’s a mixed martial arts baking competition. Sort of like Cupcake Wars, only instead of sending competitors home if they don’t win the round, they have to cage fight to move on.”

  “Like MMA cage fighting to knockout?” Now he was intrigued. He could totally see Harm winning that—and looking like a million bucks in some tiny bathing suit as she did.

  “Yes. And before you ask, I’ve only had to fight a couple times. But I was always ready.” It looked like she was talking to him again.

  “I have no doubt.” He grinned at her. “You’re totally going to be the next Food Network star. I can see it now.”

  “I will be if my mom gets the hell out of the way.” Harm emptied the bottle into her glass and then tossed it into the recycling bin.

  “Not that my mom was the best mother …” Or the most reliable, or even the most sober. “But wouldn’t most moms want their daughter to have this opportunity?”

  Harm’s face went flat. “You don’t know Livinia. Wicked witch, remember?”

  “She can’t be that bad.”

  “She is,” the three of them said in unison.

  “So, we’re back to sex tape or accidental boob pic?” Lyric turned to Heath. “I don’t think tonight’s going to be enough, though it should get the ball rolling. What do you think?”

  “What happened tonight?” Dalton could barely keep up. It was like watching a ping-pong match where everyone was playing in shorthand.

  “Well, Harmony?” Heath looked at her expectantly. “You want to fill Dalton in on what happened?”

  “There’s nothing to fill him in about.”

  “I’m not so sure I would agree. It was a hell of a three-ring circus for a little while.” Heath bit his top lip to keep from laughing.

  “Two hours to be exact.” Lyric nodded, but one look from Harm had her diving back behind her computer to hide.

  And that’s when he got it. “Wait a minute, are you the hot girl looking for a date tonight?” It had been all over his news feed when he’d been searching for the root of the SWAT problem. He’d even seen an aerial pic of a curvy girl in a gold bikini. He just hadn’t put it together. But now that he had, he couldn’t help grinning. “Looking for a date to make me jealous, huh?”

  “No.” It was way too fast and high pitched to be true.

  “Aww, that’s so sweet.” He pulled her in for another hug and felt her thaw ever so slightly, even as she dug her heel into the top of his foot. But he’d worn his steel-toed hiking boots for a reason. When trying to woo a woman like Five-Alarm Harm, a guy could never be too careful. “I like you too.”

  He kissed her hard on the mouth. He took the fact that she didn’t bite his tongue off as a good sign.

  “They’re not about to have sex in our kitchen are they?” Heath made gagging noises. “We might have to move if they do.”

  “Hopefully they’ll wait until after dinner. I’m hungry. That popcorn didn’t fill me up the way it usually does.” Lyric put a hand on her stomach. “Besides, there’s not a square inch of that countertop we haven’t already done it on.”

  Harm stepped back and made her own gagging noises. “I cook here, people.”

  “Babe, remember, what we do in private is private.” Heath’s face was turning a nice shade of red.

  “This from a man who just last year actually did have a sex tape that hit the tabloids.” Dalton couldn’t believe the man Heath had become since getting married. Lyric seemed to level him out.

  “Really?” Lyric turned to Heath. “Can I watch it?”

  “No, you can’t watch it.” Heath’s face was full-on maraschino.

  “Why not? It would be good to get a third-party look at your technique. I’m going to Google it.” She turned back to her laptop.

  Heath closed it. “I don’t need constructive criticism.”

  “Sure you do. There’s always room for improvement.” Lyric was dead serious.

  Heath looked at Dalton. “My wife is an astrophysicist and processes everything analytically. So when she says that everyone has room for improvement, she means—”

  “What’s the big deal?” Lyric looked around. “If I had a sex tape I’d let you see it and give me constructive criticism.”

  “Honey, if you have a sex tape, I’d better be in it with you.” Heath stood and gently pulled Lyric up with him. “We’re going out for dinner.”

  “What?” Harm practically vaulted the island to get to them.

  “We think it’s best.” Lyric put her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “Those individual meatloaves have put the fear of God into Heath. He still remembers the Ex-Lax chocolate chip cookie episode.”

  “He’d just broken your heart. Like I was gonna let that slide.” Harm tossed a dish towel over her left shoulder. “It’s not my fault Ex-Lax makes chocolate chews.”

  Dalton couldn’t help but wonder what they were having for dessert.

  “Have fun, you two.” Heath put his arm around Lyric as they walked toward the front door. “If you do get freaky in my kitchen, please use bleach and lots of it.”

  Harmony took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she watched them go. “Don’t think we’ll need the bleach.”

  “Why do you say that?” Dalton wasn’t playing hard to get so much as I’m-not-easy.

  “I know you’re into me, but I don’t know why you’re … oh.” Her voice fell away as her eyes fastened onto the front of his slacks. “I get it.”

  “Get what?” He was baffled.

  “I don’t know how to bring this up.” She never took her eyes from his zipper.

  “Bring what up?” He didn’t know how to react. He’d never had a woman stare at him like that when he was fully clothed before. It was disconcerting.

  “You know … your little problem.” She nodded at the front of his pants. “Want me to run across the street and borrow some of Elroy McTavish’s Viagra?”

  He felt himself blanche as things finally sunk in. “Oh, God no. No, no, no. I don’t have …” He couldn’t even get the word to come out of his mouth. “All of my parts are in perfect working order.”

  “Whew, thank God.” Harm fanned herself. “I was getting worried.” Her eyes scrunched up. “So what’s the problem then?”

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  * * *

  He was still trying to answer that question half an hour later, as they worked their way through meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a really delicious spinach salad. Because now that he’d gotten to know her better, now that he knew what made her tick, there really wasn’t a problem. In fact, if things went according to plan, he’d have her handcuffed to her bed in under an hour. Especially if they skipped the dessert she’d taken to calling Brownie Surprise.

  He didn’t mind the brownie part, but the surprise part made him wary as hell.

  Not wary enough to leave, though. Not now that she was finally letting him in a little. Normally, that was the last thing he wanted in a woman he was dating. He liked to keep things neat and compartmentalized—it helped him keep his eye on the ball, so to speak, when it came to the Wranglers.

  For his entire adult life, work had come first. Sure, he liked to play hard, and he definitely liked the rush of adrenaline that came with extreme sports. But when he was working, he was working. He gave it the same single-minded attention that he gave BASE jumping, where his life depended on his focus.

  But ever since Harmony had come along, that focus had eroded some. He thought about her when he was at work—even when she wasn’t handcuffed in his office. He wondered what she was up to, what she was thinking. What she would look like spread eagled on his bed. Oh, and of course, what diabolically evil thing she was going to do next to keep him on his toes.

  “I’d think all of this silence was you lost in yo
ur thoughts, but based on the way you inhaled your food, I’d say you were too busy chewing to make polite dinner conversation.” Her smile of satisfaction was a thing of beauty. She was a feeder, and it was obvious, despite whatever bad attitude she projected, that she liked watching other people enjoy her labor of love.

  “First time I’ve had homemade food in a very long time.” The last time must have been when his mother was around. She’d always made Thanksgiving dinner, even though drive-thrus provided his meals the rest of the year. Now he could afford to eat at the finest restaurants instead of off the value menu, but he still loved the taste of homemade mashed potatoes.

  Harmony brought over dessert—the pan of brownies, along with some fresh-cut strawberries and homemade whipped cream. “Can I get you some dessert? I didn’t think about the fact that you’re twice my size and eat like a football player when I dished up your meal.”

  “I eat like a football player when you’re cooking.” He grinned. “Everything you make is amazing. But I’m finished, thanks.” At least with food.

  “Are you sure?” She stood up and started toward the coffeepot on the counter, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap.

  “I’m positive. A brownie isn’t what I want.” He wanted her. All of her this time, and he aimed to have her.

  “Oh, really?” She shifted until she was straddling him, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “What exactly do you want then?”

  That was a loaded question if ever he’d heard one.

  He wanted so many things he didn’t even know where to start. Had wanted them from the minute he’d seen her raising hell in that biker bar. But right now what he wanted was a taste of her. To cover her mouth with his own, to slide his tongue deep, and to kiss her until her lips were swollen and her sex was wet.

  So that’s what he did. He cupped her face between his palms and lowered his mouth slowly, carefully, to hers. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t dying for a taste of her.

  He was trying to be sweet, trying to take it slow. But he should have known slow and sweet wasn’t Harmony’s game. Instead, she tangled her hands in his hair and yanked, hard. Any thoughts he had of sweetness abandoned him as she delved in, delved deep.

  It was hot and hard and so fucking sexy he could barely breathe. He opened his mouth wide and reveled in the way she took control. In the way she took what she wanted and gave so much pleasure in return.

  Her hands were tugging at his hair, her tongue sliding along his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. Need coursed through him, made his dick hard and his hands shake. Made him want more of her. Want all of her.

  And when she shifted, when she ground her sex against his cock, he knew that he was going to take control … and take whatever she would give him.

  Sliding his hands under her shirt, he pulled it off. Then nearly died when he saw the teeny tiny bra she was wearing, and the clear outline of nipple rings through the lacy cups. He should have known Harmony would have nipple rings. Should have known those gorgeous tattoos of hers were all over her body.

  Leaning down, he licked his way along the edges of her bra, stopping only to swirl his tongue along the ivy vines that twisted and twined their way from her back to her shoulder. She moaned a little, arched her back to give him better access. Thank God.

  With a groan of his own, he slid his tongue beneath the lace cups, getting closer and closer to her mouth with each circle of his tongue on her breast. She moaned again, then untangled her hands from his hair just long enough to reach behind her and unhook her bra.

  Then she pulled it off and dropped it to the ground behind her.

  And God, she was beautiful. So fucking beautiful that it nearly ripped him in two just to look at her. With the wild illustrations on her skin, the raspberry-pink nipples, and the scattering of freckles, she turned him on like no one ever had before.

  Lowering his head, he traced his tongue along the colorful edges of her tattoos as they bled one into the next. From the time he was little more than a kid, he’d had a thing for tattoos on female skin. He didn’t know what it was he found so sexy about a woman who decorated the most intimate and beautiful places on her body, but it revved him up like nothing else ever had.

  And Harmony. Shit. With all her tattoos, she looked like a pretty birthday package just waiting to be unwrapped. And he was the lucky man who was getting to do the honors.

  He moved lower, traced closer to her nipples. She shivered as he made patterns on her skin with his tongue, her hips arching against his while a low, keening cry came from between her lips. He nearly lost it at the sound, nearly reached between them, unzipped his pants and hers, then thrust into her, hard and fast.

  But she tasted too good to rush, felt too amazing against him to end it just that quickly. Not when her mouth was cold and tantalizingly sweet from a combination of the donuts and the strawberries and whipped cream.

  Keeping his mouth on hers—like he had the fucking willpower to break away—he reached behind Harmony to the table and grabbed a handful of strawberries. Then stood up and balanced her perfect little ass on the edge of the table.

  “Dalton?”

  Her beautiful blue eyes blinked open in confusion, and he didn’t do anything to reassure her, didn’t say anything to put her at ease. He wanted her off balance, wanted her watching him with those wary, cat eyes that made him hotter and harder than anything ever had.

  “Lie back,” he said, exerting pressure on her shoulders with his empty hand.

  “What, here?” she demanded breathlessly, even as she complied with the order he gave her.

  “Of course here.” He watched as she braced herself on her elbows, a move that had her pretty breasts jutting forward invitingly. “Haven’t you ever done it on a table before?”

  She smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  He would like to know, honestly, jealousy riding him hard at the thought of her with anyone else. But he didn’t have the right to call her on it—didn’t have the right to even be thinking like he was thinking. So instead of asking again, he murmured, “For once just relax and let me do all the work.”

  She didn’t argue, so he chose to take her long, lingering sigh as acquiescence and lifted one of the berries across her lips. Her mouth opened up automatically and she bit the pretty red berry in half, then giggled as some of its sweet juice ran down her chin.

  He licked it up with one long, slow swipe of his tongue, and she stopped laughing, her eyes darkening and her body growing tense. Good. He liked that she was a little on edge—it would make what came after all the sweeter.

  He picked up another couple of berries, and her mouth opened invitingly, but he merely shook his head. Holding them above her body he squeezed hard, then watched as all their lovely juice leaked out of his fist and ran in rivulets down her beautiful torso.

  Harmony gasped at the first touch of the cold juice on her breasts and her stomach. Gasped again as Dalton smeared the strawberry pulp around first one areole and then the second. Her nipples went pebble hard at the contact, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold berries or Dalton’s fingers or simply the anticipation of what was coming next.

  She wasn’t a virgin—she liked sex too much for that—but no other man had ever made her feel like this. No other man had made her so anxious and so excited all at the same time. That it was Dalton who did it—with his Armani suits and Rolex watches—only made it a bigger trip.

  As did the wicked gleam in Dalton’s eyes, the gleam that only seemed to come out when he was looking at her. It made him look even more handsome, even more dangerous. And knowing that she brought it out in him turned her on more than anything ever had.

  He kept his gazes pinned to hers as he bent his head to her breast, and she nearly sighed in delight. Only the desire to mess with him a little, to make him sweat, kept her from sighing in delight.

  But he didn’t stop there, and he didn’t ask for permission as he
unzipped her jeans, then roughly yanked them—and her panties—down her legs and off. She didn’t protest and she didn’t cover herself, not when he was giving her exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she needed.

  He groaned a little as he dropped the jeans to the floor, then he picked up more strawberries and once again crushed them in his palm, allowing the juice to drip over her abdomen, down to her mons and between her thighs. The contrast of the ice-cold strawberry juice and Dalton’s warm mouth had her writhing in seconds, begging for him to finish the game.

  He wasn’t willing to be rushed, however, and he took his time teasing her with little flicks of his tongue over her breasts, down her belly, over her sex. He followed these with more demanding nips and with tugs on her nipple rings that had her blood boiling and her hands fisting in his hair.

  “Come on,” she whimpered as she tried to pull him over her. “Do it already.”

  His laugh was low and taunting. “Baby, I’m just getting started. There won’t be anything to do for quite a while.”

  And then he set about teasing her, giving her no more time to talk or plead or even think. She could only feel, only revel in the sensations of unbelievable pleasure the feel of the strawberries and Dalton’s tongue brought to her.

  He leaned over her on the table, so that he was touching her in one long line from her shoulders to her toes. The roughness of his jeans scraped against the tender skin of her stomach and outer thigh, but she relished the contact. Embraced the burn that he was so carefully stoking inside of her.

  Raising himself up on one elbow, he picked up the loaded spoon from the whipped cream bowl and held it suspended over her. He didn’t move, didn’t flick it over her, didn’t do anything until he was sure he had her complete and total attention.

  Pushing up on her elbows, she looked at him warily. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked.

  He grinned and it was a scandalous, shameless thing. Her heart beat faster and then she was arching, her head falling back as he dropped the cool cream onto her lower abdomen.