Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel (6 page)

Harper felt her breath catch. Donavan’s blue eyes burned her alive. Harper didn’t pretend she wasn’t lurking. She walked around the bushes and faced him.

“Hi,” she said weakly.

His slow, sexy grin did strange things to her heart. “Miss Grant,” his deep voice shivered down her spine.

“Mister McClain.”

His probing eyes took in her waist length blue black hair that tumbled in glossy loose curls. He wanted to bury his hands in the luminous waves. The light makeup enhanced her fresh, creamy skin. The black mascara framed her beautiful green eyes to perfection. Her lips were a bubblegum pink gloss that made them look ripe and juicy. He wanted to bite her lower lip and sink his tongue deep inside her.

Donavan blinked hard. He backed away. He intended to go to the pool house, change his clothes and meet the guys up at the mansion. But he didn’t like the flash of masculine interest in Miguel’s eyes, not one bit. The photographer openly flirted and kept touching her shoulder. Donavan speared the photographer with a look that made it clear – one more touch, just one more and Donavan would break every finger of the offending hand.

Miguel scrambled away. He stood a respectful distance. He told Harper what he wanted. Donavan stood to the side, boldly watching. He dared Miguel to utter a word of protest. Go ahead and try. Miguel acted as if Donavan’s presence was perfectly natural. Harper made a shooing motion with her hand. Donavan raised a single eyebrow. He wasn’t going anywhere. Leave her alone with conquistador? Not bloody likely. Miguel checked his gear and lighting.

“Okay,” he said, “Just relax, we’ll be done before you know it.”

Harper nodded. She was nervous. Donavan could tell.

“Just relax,” Miguel said again.

She seemed ready to bolt. When she was terrified she cleared her throat, all raspy. It only happened a few times over the years. Once in English class she had to give an oral report on Shakespeare. Harper was so scared of public speaking, she rasped for five minutes until Donavan made funny faces at her from the back of the classroom. Harper ended up laughing and was able to give her presentation.

Harper shifted mechanically. She cleared her throat yet again. Donavan’s eyes locked with hers. The heat between them seemed to melt her on the spot. Harper untied the robe and let it drop. Donavan inhaled a sharp – holy God almighty in heaven – breath.

She was absolutely magnificent. A siren goddess sent to tempt and seduce. She held his gaze like a vixen, daring him to look away. He couldn’t if he tried. Donavan swallowed hard. His eyes hungrily devoured the round, ripe breasts. He could see her nipples harden in response to his burning gaze. Her skin blushed like peaches and cream, luscious, forbidden fruit he wanted to sink his teeth into. Her legs went on for miles, tall, curvy, voluptuous girl. Donavan was so aroused he could hardly breathe.

Miguel finished. “Beautiful Bella,” he said.

Harper smiled shyly but she never took her eyes off Donavan.

“Thank you Miguel, good evening Officer McClain.” Harper pranced past him. Her luscious ass made his mouth water. Donavan blinked. He realized she wasn’t going to the pool house to change. She was headed to the mansion! The single cops and firefighters would be all over her in seconds. Oh hell no! Donavan caught up to her in two strides.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to the house,” she said with sham innocence.

“Put some clothes on.”

“No.”

Donavan’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s just a bikini, besides I’ve worked with these guys for years.”

Donavan knew these men too. One look at her in the black lace bikini top with her juicy boobs and big squeezable ass she’d cause a riot. Harper kept walking.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

“No.”

“Girl, don’t make me ask again.”

Harper turned on him with hands on hips. “What are you going to do about it?”

Donavan picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He heard her gasp of outrage. “Put me down!” Her glorious hair brushed the back of his knees and calves. “Put me down now or so help me-” He threw her in the pool.

Harper came up swinging. She punched him in the chest. “You-You- Caveman! Neanderthal-” She was so furious it took her a second to realize he wasn’t listening. Donavan backed her up against the edge of the pool. He rested both arms on either side of her.

“God, woman,” he whispered. They were both breathing hard. Harper looked at the beads of moisture on his skin. She stepped into his arms and touched his chest. His muscles jumped beneath her gentle touch. The blond hair, so soft, the muscles beneath like rock. She instinctively kissed the warm skin over his heart and teased his nipple with her tongue. Donavan growled when she sucked and grazed his nipple with her teeth. His head swooped down, his tongue hot. She kissed him back with all the yearning in her heart. Donavan groaned. His hands slid around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed passionately, drowning in the heat of it, a long wet kiss that drove them both wild. Donavan’s hands cupped her breasts, squeezed, caressed until his hand slid under the black lace. Harper’s back arched. Her body trembled with sensations. Donavan rubbed her nipple with his thumb. His head lowered. He sucked the nipple hard, his tongue rubbed, licked and devoured her. Harper’s hands sank into his blond hair. Her own head fell back in surrender. She moaned his name. The sound sent a shock right through him. Donavan’s hands slid over her big butt and squeezed. He slowly thrust as he circled her hips with a drugging motion. Harper shivered. He loved the intoxicated look in her eyes. She was drunk on him and damn if he wasn’t going to make her crave more and more. Donavan cupped a breast with one hand and slid the other between her legs. He sucked the dusky peak as he slid two fingers deep inside her. Donavan’s violent shudder matched her own. She was hot and wet for him. He slid his fingers in and out, in and out. He licked her nipple with hot strokes of his tongue. A primitive moan escaped Harper’s throat. His hips moved in rhythm with the circular plunge of his fingers in drugging circular motions, in and out.

Harper felt herself come apart, the pleasure so blinding. She moaned as pulse after deep, dark pulse shook her body. When Harper could breathe again she spun him around and back him against the pool wall. Water lapped around them. She touched his chest with both hands. His heart thundered beneath her fingertips. His nipple hardened with her touch. She slid down the ripples of his six pack abs. His breath hissed when she slid her hands down his pants and stroked him.

Donavan groaned. “Harper, baby don’t, we have to stop, I can’t-”

One touch of her sweet, innocent hands on his throbbing shaft and he felt his blood roar. She looked him directly in the eye.

“I love you.”

He came harder than he’d ever come in his life.

“I love you, I love you,” she whispered over and over.

Even though the words scared the hell out of him he held her in his arms, shuddering in the aftermath.

“Tell me again,” he said gruffly.

“I love you!”

Donavan held her tight, closed his eyes and whispered her name as if she were something sacred. “
Harper…”

He never should have touched her. Donavan mumbled some lame excuse, got out of the pool and literally ran for the hills. So desperate to get away from her, he left his clothes and got in his squad car dripping wet. Donavan slammed the car into gear and drove as if all the demons of hell gave chase. With all the women in and out of his bed, he’d never known passion like that. Donavan slammed his fist on the steering wheel.

“Shit!” he muttered.

He called himself a few choice words as he broke the speed limit driving to nowhere. When he thought of her sweet hands…

Donavan groaned. The swift physical response he had robbed him of breath. His mind went blank with shock and white hot pleasure. In bed, Donavan was the one in control. He knew how to please a woman’s body. With the Kimbers of the world, he always held back a vital part of himself when he climaxed. What happened between him and Harper went beyond the sexual and physical. Donavan tried to put it in a context he could understand. Her innocent touch was so damn sweet, he craved her even now, craved the woman like air to breathe. Without conscious thought, he ended up at his dad’s place.  

Please, for once, just be sober
. He needed his father now.

Donavan let himself in through the greenhouse. He recalled happier times here with his mother. She loved burying her hands in soil, growing herbs, plants and flowers. Ironically, she enjoyed bringing things to life then single handedly killed her own family. Donavan shrugged off the memories. He was a grown man now. Cindy McClain could roast in hell.

He headed down the hall, up the rear spiral staircase. He walked barefoot with the black cotton pants plastered to his legs. He passed massive oil paintings of his ancestors who had to be rolling in their graves right about now. Because once again, Allister McClain was rip roaring drunk. He sat on the floor in the hallway in a pool of his own vomit. An empty bottle of brandy hung limp between his fingers. He spoke to imaginary ghosts of his past with slurred speech. Donavan sighed. He should have known. Before Allister could see him, Donavan turned on his heel and left. This is what happens to a man who loved and lost. Harper Grant could become an addiction every bit as potent as alcohol. Then she’d leave him. Somehow, someway she would disappear from his life and he’d end up like daddy dearest crying like a bitch, drinking, puking, and making a damn fool of himself. Deep down, he knew if she’d leave him so broken, he would not survive.

Donavan used to be so damn proud of his father. In his teen years, Allister embarrassed him with public exhibitions of intoxication that made him a laughing stock in town. The once powerful CEO was a joke and all because he loved a woman who left him. With grim determination, Donavan would surgically extricate himself from Harper Grant.

He never called her, even after their intimacy. He looked straight through her as if she didn’t exist. He ignored her completely. He didn’t even fight with her anymore, just steered clear. No matter how much he craved her and he did, he longed for that girl something fierce, still Donavan let her go. He did the one thing that would drive his point home – he asked her friend out on a date right in front of her. Emerson said yes.

Chapter 12

It felt like death. For several nights, Harper cried herself to sleep. Oh grow up damn it! She was used to rejection. Harper was in the foster care system when she was six years old. Five different families took her in but they promptly gave her back to the Department of Children and Family Services. She remembered their reasons vividly. She’s too tall, she doesn’t fit in, she’s a bit odd, and the girl is strange. The most common complaint – she has nightmares that disturb the peace of their home. Back then the rejection of strangers hurt. She kept hoping and praying that this time, this family would want her.   

Donavan’s rejection felt so absolute and final, the pain went deep, visceral. Harper immersed herself in work. She did 24 hour shifts back to back, went on medical help missions for the homeless in skid row. On her days off, she ran for miles – on the town square, through the park. It gave her peace. The emotional upheaval and turmoil of the last few days gave way to blessed numbness when she ran.

Donavan asked Emerson to dinner. How could he? After their intimacy, how could he do that to her? She reached the only conclusion that made sense. He doesn’t love me. She felt stupid, so stupid for loving him as much as she did. When it clearly wasn’t mutual. So she ran. She cut through the Mexican cemetery. Rows of decorated headstones, angel statues, flowers, wind chimes, sugar skulls and candles. Her arms pumping, legs flying, pony tail swinging, Harper ran down a winding, tree lined path.

That’s when she saw the scattered thumbtacks on the pavement, hundreds of them. Her legs trembled to a stop. She stood there in the middle of the cemetery staring at the gold tacks, the sharp tips. Her body quaked.

Colt Billings strolled from behind a tree, whistling a tune. He smiled when he saw the paleness of her face, the huge panicked green eyes, the way trapped air struggled to escape her bloodless lips.

“Hi-ya Raven.”

She looked at her biological father. Her feet rooted to the ground. Harper’s mind screamed at her to run but she couldn’t move an inch. Colt stroked her cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb. His touch made her skin crawl.

“Well lookie here, baby girl all grown up.”

He circled her slowly. “My, my, my,” he crooned, “Daddy’s not so little girl.”

Tears poured down her cheeks. Donavan! She needed Donavan. Her cell phone was in her pocket but she couldn’t move. Her limbs were frozen. Colt always had this effect on her. As far back as she could remember, he took pleasure in scaring the shit out of her.

The abuse was never sexual. Colt took pride in terrorizing her in far more sinister ways.

“Kneel!” he ordered.

Harper’s body automatically obeyed. This was his go to punishment. It started when she was two years old. If she pissed him off he made her kneel on thumb tacks. The sharp points pierced her knees and legs. Fear made her heart stall mid beat. Colt gripped her by the neck.

“I’ve missed our quality daddy daughter time,” he said.

Harper squeezed her eyes shut as he dug his nails into the base of her neck like claws. “Took me years to find you but ta-da! Daddy’s home. I came for you, little bit.”

Harper whispered “D-Donavan.” Please, please help me!

“Oh honey, I done heard all about you and lover boy. He don’t want you,” Colt sneered.

Harper bit down on her lip until it bled. Colt hissed in her ear. “What are you?”

“Ugly,” she whispered.

“What else?”

“Worthless.”

He gripped her chin so hard she felt his fingers to the bone. “You are unlovable baby girl, how many times I gotta tell ya?”

Harper nodded. He’s right, she knew that now.

“Get up.”

She obeyed.