Page 49 of Inflame

She sure fucking is. So hot, I think she could ignite into a million flames and obliterate me. I know the desire between us is toxic, but I can’t help but get pulled toward her. I’m entranced in her beauty and free spirit.

I get a whiff of vanilla, and the smell sends a signal to my cock, making it come to life. I need to step away before I show her just how badly I want her. I gather up the wrappers, take the last sip of the lemonade, and look for the nearest trash can.

The evening is warm with barely even a breeze. The air quality is definitely less fresh feeling than it is in Portland. I imagine in the heart of summer, it would feel stifling.

I hear commotion behind me, as I dispose of our snack containers.

“She’s in the fountain.”

“Oh, that looks refreshing.”

“Can I join you, sweet thang?”

I know exactly who they are talking to before I even look. I swing my body around. Fuck. Claire is lying on her back in the fountain, kicking her feet and looking backward up at the statues. Having the time of her life.

I run over and cut through a developing wall of spectators. They are hooting and hollering and cheering her on. I want to punch some of the young punks who are asking her to remove her clothes to cool off even more.

I am about to toe off my shoes when her strapless bra comes flying through the air, landing on my shoulder.You have got to be kidding me.I growl and forget about my damn shoes, leaping over the side into the cool water. She sees me trudging through toward her and rolls on her stomach. Her arms flap and flail as she tries to swim away—knowing I am going to grab her and get her out. Does she really think she can out swim me in less than ten inches of water? She looks like a drunk seahorse learning to move for the first time. Maybe she is just this bad in the water. There are only a couple of feet between her and the opposite edge, yet she is not even gaining any distance. I stand over her and laugh. She rolls to her back again.

“Fun time is over,” I say, reaching for her and pulling her up.

“I was just cooling off,” she says, pushing her bottom lip out. I want to kiss it. Bite it. Mark her.

I bend down and grab a hold of her under her knees, hoisting her up to my chest. The top of her dress is sliding down, and I hug her closer to me to keep the assholes from ogling her. I tuck her to me and use my hands as a shield. I carry her through the water, over the cement edge of the pool, and break through the gathering crowd.

“You’re my idol, sweetheart!”

“Encore!”

“Want to be my swim instructor?”

I glare at those making catcalls and saying the most asinine things. Boys can sound so stupid. I can tell that Claire is sobering up from the way she tucks her head into my neck to zone out all of the commotion.

My shoes slosh along the sidewalk as I carry her several blocks to our hotel. I don’t even think she could walk in wet heels if she wanted to—at least not without spraining an ankle.

“What were you thinking?” I ask softly, walking into the Bellagio. The legs of my pants dried off a bit, but my shirt is completely soaked like a sponge from the water dripping off the drenched princess in my arms. Her hair is a mop and her makeup is smeared around her eyes.

She is so beautiful. Wild and free.

She shrugs. “I guess Spontaneous Claire wanted to make an appearance tonight. She comes out when I least expect it.”

I chuckle into her hair. I can’t stop myself from smelling it. Her thighs are warm again, and I want to run my hands up her legs to feel the smoothness.

“I’m thankful I got to meet her again,” I say with reverence.

She tips up her head to stare into my eyes. “I’m sure you’ll see more of her. Let’s just hope the tattoo shops have curfews before she does something super reckless,” she jokes. “I’ve always wanted to get something cute done.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Anything in particular?”

She hums as she thinks. “I love sunflowers. Maybe one of those.”

I walk into the waiting elevator and we travel up to our floor. When I push open the door to the suite, Graham and Angie look up from the movie they are watching to see me holding a drenched Claire.

“Oh, no. Are you okay, Claire? Did you fall? You are soaked,” Angie says, assessing us.

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