HeartsAflameCollectionV Read online

  She stood stock still for a few moments after he finished, and then, slowly, he took a clean napkin from the pile on the counter and fastidiously wiped her hand.

  “You don't know where I've been,” he said with a wink. “Maybe you shouldn't go hand-feeding strange men, miss.”

  “I didn't go hand-feeding anyone,” Apple said, waking up enough to be indignant. “You're the one who made me into a... a dinner plate!”

  His eyes flared up at her words, and she realized that though he had dropped the napkin, he was still holding her hand. His thumb came up to stroke the sensitive inner skin of her palm, and he chuckled.

  “There are traditions,” he said softly, “all over the world, where people say that the best meals are eaten off the bodies of beautiful women...”

  Apple laughed shakily. “I... I suppose you never worry about finding beautiful women,” she said, her voice soft and husky.

  “Well, you might be surprised, but once in a very great while, they get brought to my kitchen, and I want nothing more than to feed them...”

  Apple shuddered at the soft, insinuating words, but the idea of herself as a beautiful woman was too much. She laughed shakily and drew her hand back. “Well, tough luck, 'cause right now all you have is kinda cute and still really hungry.”

  Instead of being frustrated, he simply laughed and took a step back, something that made a keen lance of disappoint pierce her heart. She scolded herself that handsome men weren't interested in dumpy little artists and returned to the plate of food he had prepared.

  She let him coach her through Japanese curry (delicious), Greek grape leaf rolls stuffed with rice (too bitter for her), and Vietnamese spring rolls (amazing). He knew where every ingredient came from, and he told her about them until her head spun with the distance that the food she ate had traveled and the spices that exploded on her tongue.

  Finally, she pushed the empty plate away and sighed. A part of her wished that she could simply sit in the kitchen forever with this man and simply listen to him talk. Instead, she knew that there was a gallery full of people who were likely looking for her, and that she had hidden herself away long enough.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much, that was amazing.”

  “I strive to please,” he said with quick little bow that managed to be just the right amount of courteous and ironic. “Least I could do for a lovely woman who showed up to brighten my night.”

  She laughed self-consciously. “You're going to have to quit that,” she said. “Seriously. Someone's going to take you seriously if you say stuff like that.”

  He raised a dark elegant eyebrow at her. “If I say that you're lovely and beautiful long enough, do you think you'll believe me?”

  “I think that if you keep saying that, I'm going to start saying what I think too.”

  “I'm absolutely terrified,” Bellaron said drily. “Go on then, gunslinger. Give me your best shot.”

  Apple put her hands on her hips, her chin tilted up and a wide grin on her face. The much needed food had given her back a lot of her bravado, and maybe she felt like teasing a little.

  “I want to talk about how good looking you are,” she said. “I want to talk about how big you are and how much I like that, and how I can see old scars on your hands and how hot that is. I want to talk about how I bet those hands know their way around a woman's body.”

  Apple was gratified when Bellaron looked surprised, and she waited for what he had to say.

  “I... you know, I don't know why I thought you were shy.”

  “Probably because I was starving. Now that I've gotten some of your amazing food in me, I could fight a dragon.”

  Bellaron laughed, and there was a hint of smoke to it that made a pleasurable tingle run up her spine. “I need to keep you fed then,” he said, his eyes falling deliberately to her red mouth. “Because I like you like this...”

  “Oh, I haven't even begun to warm up,” she said jauntily. “I want to talk about how kissable your mouth looks, and how gorgeous it looked when you were eating out of my hand. I've never done that before, you know, not really, it's just been you and a little goat that I fed at a petting zoo when I was eight.”

  “I find myself unaccountably jealous of a goat,” Bellaron commented. “Does it bother you to know that I make an excellent Indian goat curry?”

  “Not at all,” she responded smoothly. “And I like that too. I like that you know all about food. It's like, if you know your way around a kitchen, what else do you know your way around, you know?”

  Somehow, in the course of her words, she found herself closer to him than when she had started out, and by the time she finished speaking, she was mere inches away from him, looking up into his face. He towered over her, but instead of making her feel threatened, it thrilled her.

  “What do I know my way around...” he said, and there was just a touch of strain to his voice that drew her in even further. “Well, I don't like to go anywhere where I'm not very, very welcome...”

  “Welcome, huh? Well, let's see.”

  Carefully and slowly, she took his hand, marveling for a moment at how large it was. There were scars on it, the small nicks and cuts that she imagined every chef bore, but it was completely and utterly clean, the nails trimmed back to the quick. She stroked it for a moment, and then she placed it on the dip of her waist.

  “Is that an invitation?” he asked.

  She laughed, a soft gusty sound. “If I could be any clearer, I would be shouting it,” she said, and his hand drifted lower.

  She held her breath as he ran light fingers over the swell of her hip, sweeping down over the velvet of her dress and palming her thigh. Daring to be a little braver, she reached up and took a fistful of his tuxedo’s lapel, dragging him closer so she was pinned between his bulk and the table.

  “I like it close,” she said softly, glancing up at him. With their bodies pressed so close, she could feel how solid he was, and how muscular. He hissed softly with surprise when she shifted against him, and now she could feel his cock stir between his legs, pressing into her soft belly.

  “Do you?” he muttered thickly, and his fingers found the hem of her dress, tugging it aside so that he could slide the fabric up her legs. He had both hands on her thighs now, and she whimpered as he dragged his calloused palms up and up. He was amazingly warm pressed against her, and there was something wonderful and almost terrifying by how aroused she was so quickly. Something about this man lit her up like a night sky full of fireworks, and she braced herself against the table so she could fit herself to him more completely.

  “You feel so, so good,” she whispered. “I can't remember the last time I felt this good.”

  He laughed a touch raggedly, and when Apple looked up, she could see that there was a dazed look in his eyes as well.

  “I...” He swallowed. “Neither can I.”

  She might have scoffed at the idea of a man as handsome as Bellaron ever lacking for female company, but his hands came around the backs of her thighs and gave her round buttocks a gentle squeeze.

  “Harder,” she found herself whispering. “I’m not a porcelain doll.”

  That was all the encouragement he needed. His strong fingers kneaded into her soft flesh, and when she looked up again, his mouth crashed down on hers. They had been moving so slowly that it was as if his kiss shocked everything into bright and vivid color. Suddenly there were his hands on her rear, and his hot wet mouth covering her own. When she parted her lips, he swept his tongue inside, and eagerly, she sucked on it, wanting more and then more than that.

  With a muffled curse, he lifted her up on the table, setting her up on it so that she had to look down at him. She knew that she was likely as red as a cherry from their play, but when she looked down at the way his eyes were nearly black with desire, a red, red smile curled her lips.

  “You're a handsome thing,” she said softly, running one leg up his side, and he rewarded her with a deep growl in his chest.


  “You're gorgeous,” he said simply. “Tell me what you want.”

  In the middle of her haze, Apple woke up a little. She was an artist, and her language was metal and wood, clay and resin. Words were always more difficult, and for a moment, she was convinced that they would stick in her throat. Then she looked into his dark waiting face, and she felt her throat open.

  “I want you to touch me,” she said thickly. “Run... run your hands over my breasts, show me how much you like them.”

  Obediently, he cupped her generous breasts in his large hands, and when he squeezed, she moaned with pleasure. His clever fingers found her nipples through the thin fabric and her bra, and he rolled them until they rose up as taut as tender buds, all but showing through the cloth. Hissing with pleasure, Apple found her fingers laced into his hair, and when he made a sharp noise, she pulled.

  “Little witch,” he breathed, and she laughed and pulled harder.

  He leaned up for another kiss, but while her lips were occupied, his hand crept up her thigh again. With him standing between her knees, she was open and defenseless to his touch. The idea that she couldn't close her legs against him made her whimper with desire, and that was before his fingertips started to trace the line of her panties.

  “Lace,” he muttered. “Naughty girl.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” she asked huskily, and she got her response when he eased one finger under the elastic. He chuckled when he found her privates completely shaved, and then he moaned when he brushed against her wet slit.

  “You want me,” he murmured heatedly. “I could smell you before, but now I can feel it...”

  “Yes, yes,” she murmured. “Touch me, touch me please...”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and some part of her couldn't believe that she was doing this, spreading herself open for a man in a tuxedo on the night of her biggest gallery show. Another part of her seemed to wake up when she touched Bellaron, asking her what had taken so long, this was what she was meant for, and she spread her legs wider for his touch.

  He ran one blunt-tipped finger over her slit, stroking the folds with a delicate consideration before reaching to flicker over her clit. That gentle motion was nowhere near enough, and she found herself thrusting her hips up, desperate for more.

  “Please,” she said. “Inside, I like it inside!”

  With a strained chuckle, he did as she asked, and in a moment, his finger was sunk in her willing depths, thrusting in and out of her with a nearly insolent slowness. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, she pulled his hair, but there was nothing that she could do to make him speed his deliriously sensual moments.

  “Things take time,” he said, his voice more than slightly raw. “Things take time, and I won't be rushed, not with you, not like this.”

  He turned his hand so that he could flick his thumb over her clit with every stroke, and soon instead of urging him on, she was clinging to him instead. The powerful waves of pleasure that started low in her belly swept through her body, making her tense tighter and tighter. She was going to explode, she knew she was, it was going to happen...

  “Miss Muldoon? Miss Muldoon, are you here?

  The anxious voice of the gallery manager broke through her sensual haze, and even that might not have made pause if it wasn't getting louder and louder.

  With a muffled curse, Bellaron pulled away from her, and Apple managed to stifle her startled yelp of surprise. For a moment, she felt positively murderous toward the person who had interrupted, but common sense prevailed, and she dropped off of the table and hastily pulled her dress down. She thought she would be able to present a calm face, but then she looked over to see Bellaron sucking his fingers clean of her juices.

  “Bellaron!”

  “You taste wonderful,” he whispered, straightening her hair quickly with his clean hand. “Now look like we've been talking about molecular gastronomy.”

  She didn't even bother to ask what that was, but when the gallery manager entered the room, she thought that she looked demure enough. She apologized for going missing, but she had been so hungry, and the food was so delicious, after all. She batted her large brown eyes at the gallery manager, who said that there were many important people who wanted to speak to her, and Apple found herself being hurried back to the main gallery.

  She managed to sneak a quick look back at the kitchen, and the image of Bellaron, staring after her with eyes that were afire with lust and longing, was one she thought she would carry forever.

  Chapter Three

  After the night was over, and most of the equipment was put away, Bellaron plated up three last plates, filling them with the delicious odds and ends that were in some ways tastier for having been sitting for so long but would have been tossed out after the festivities. He stripped off the tuxedo jacket, and he was just beginning to roll up his sleeves when Bryan Hillman and Vicky Campbell came in.

  They were a striking pair, and though Bryan Hillman was a multimillionaire hero who could turn invisible at a moment's whim, it was obvious through his shy glances and soft smiles that he would never think himself grander than his wife. Vicky Campbell was tall and thin with black hair that she had recently cut fashionably short. Her green eyes snapped with life, and though her high heels made her tower over her rather slender husband, it was obvious to see that they were equals in every way.

  “I saw you in the gallery, but I didn't get a chance to come over to say hello,” said Vicky, taking a comfortable seat at the counter. She was a longtime veteran of events like this, and she knew that sometimes, the best eating occurred after everyone had gone.

  “Good event,” said Bryan comfortably. “People were raving about the food, thank you for handling it.”

  Bellaron tugged his tie loose and sat down at his own plate. He knew when Bryan asked to meet with him after the opening that it wasn't just for food.

  “You want me to meet him?” he said, frowning. If he wasn't careful, he would crush the edge of the table in his bare hand; carefully, he let go and sat with his hand resting on one thigh.

  “It's long past time,” Vicky pointed out. “You've been living in Colossal City for more than two years now. You need to meet him.”

  Bellaron frowned at her, and she only smiled serenely. He supposed that after some of the interviews she had run, aliens must be fairly old news.

  “We've gone on as we are just fine.”

  Bryan wiped his mouth with his napkin before speaking, shaking his head. “No, we've not. Last winter, when those things came out of the sewers, we could have used you then. And just a month ago, when that Ichor godling attacked the Third Ward, don't tell us that you were so pleased to handle that alone.”

  Bellaron found himself baring his teeth at Bryan, and he forced himself calm. He genuinely liked the other man. As a matter of fact, he owed a great deal of success to Bryan's patronage, but that sure as hell didn't mean that he was going do whatever he said.

  “I did just fine,” he said stubbornly.

  “You could be doing better, and that's what we're trying to say,” Vicky said, putting down her fork. When she looked at him with that clear and earnest expression, it was easy to see why people trusted her immediately. It was all genuine too, and he could find it in himself to envy Bryan mightily if a certain sweet-faced artist hadn't stolen into his kitchen that night.

  Bellaron sighed. “Fine. Arrange your meeting, but don't expect me to be impressed by the man.”

  “That's just fine, I'm not asking you to be best friends, I'm just asking you to talk,” Bryan said, smiling with relief. “Thank you. If there's anything I can do for you...”

  “The artist,” Bellaron said bluntly. “I couldn't get close to her, there were so many people who wanted to talk to her. Who is she?”

  “Her name's Apple Muldoon, and she's the artist in residence at the Hillman Center for the next month,” Bryan said proudly. “I caught a small display that she had at an art fair a few mont
hs ago, and I knew that she had to bring her work here.”

  “She dropped out of the art college here a few years ago,” supplied Vicky. “Independent, did a bunch of odd jobs until her art took off. It's still not paying the bills, I don't think, but tonight changed everything for her. They can't take the pieces yet, but nearly every piece sold.”

  Bellaron nodded thoughtfully. “Everything except the big wolf.”

  “Yes,” said Vicky with surprise. “How did you know?”

  Bellaron grinned, and if there was something sharp to his smile, neither Vicky or Bryan let it bother them.

  “I recognized it,” he said. “That's a hunter. That's something that stalks the forests and kills without a sound. It makes every human who looks at it realize that they're prey.”

  Vicky lifted a cool eyebrow. “Oh? And what does it make you think, Bellaron?”

  “I see a brother,” he retorted.

  He stood up abruptly, and both Vicky and Bryan, human to their core despite the alien company they kept, shivered. They could see the hunter in him, and a deep part of them responded to it.

  “”Bryan, I want that piece. I don't care how much it costs.”

  Bryan nodded, but when he looked at the tense lines of Bellaron's body, he knew that it wasn't all that the tall man wanted.

  Chapter Four

  Apple had fallen asleep in her makeup and her clothes the night before, and when she awoke around noon, her thoughts were still full of green eyes, clever fingers and a mouth that was made to pleasure her. The thoughts stayed with her as she showered and dressed, pulling on her favorite pair of paint-splattered jeans and a soft purple peasant top, and she blushed all over again to think about how bold she had been. She was no shrinking violet, but usually she waited a bit before she unleashed her inner vixen. Something about the chef she met at the gallery showing had changed all that, and when she remembered his hands on her flesh, she felt herself heat up all over again.