"I would like that," she said and moaned. She arched her hips. "I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, really I don't, but if you don't stop talking and get inside me I'm going to cold-blooded murder you!"

"Complaints can go in my-"

"Beck!"

His chuckle was a dark promise as he hooked his arms under her thighs and lifted her hips. With enough force to rattle the entire bed, he slammed all the way into her. The pleasure... It was almost more than he could bear, but he did it again and again, moving in and out of his woman. Because he had to, because he couldn't tolerate the thought of doing anything else.

The headboard banged against the wall. The pictures shook. He pounded harder, need driving him, obsession and addiction hanging on for the ride, a promise of more.

She gasped his name, writhing and thrashing.

"Let me watch you." He pressed his thumb against her sweet spot and, just like that, she erupted, screaming, trembling, squeezing his shaft from base to tip.

He slowed his thrusts, sinking in a mere inch at a time. "Nice and easy now." Sweat trickled down his temples as he plucked at her nipples.

"Beck," she gasped, the pleasure in her voice hitting his system with the strength of an entire bottle of whiskey. She hadn't yet come down from her climax, and the new pace drove her straight into another, her belly quivering, her core drenching him with electric heat. "It's...it's... Oh, oh! I can't stop. It's not stopping."

Her back arched, sending him deeper, and as he hit as far as he could go, his control finally snapped. Nice and easy? No longer possible. He hammered at her with everything he had.

A knock sounded at the door.

Had he locked it? He couldn't remember, just knew he would kill anyone who stepped through it.

He hammered, hammered, hammered, the bed rocking, rocking, the pictures banging, banging.

Another knock rang out. A woman's voice seeped through the cracks, "Harlow?"

The thought of getting caught must have thrilled a secret part of his naughty beauty because she shot straight into another climax, and this time she milked him hard enough to send him over the edge of pleasure...pleasure that consumed him from head to toe. He roared, pouring every drop of tension into the condom, his muscles clenching and unclenching, the fire in his veins at last cooling.

"Harlow. You've got another room to clean," the woman said.

Harlow gasped and scrambled out from under him. "I'm, uh, coming," she called.

"In more ways than one," he muttered. He removed the condom and tied it off. "I'll dress and we can head home." He wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel her breath against his skin, and share secrets into the darkest part of the night.

"No way. You heard her. I have to get back to work." She tugged on her clothing.

He gave a single shake of his head. "You're coming back to work for me."

"Sure. I'll continue my work on the character sketches, but I'll start after my shifts at the inn. I like standing on my own two feet, and besides that, I refuse to leave Dottie in the lurch."

He gnashed his molars. My fault. More work for her meant less time for him. "What about us? I'm in this thing one hundred percent."

She smoothed the wrinkles from her top, plucked the ponytail holder from the floor and combed back her hair, taming it in a knot on top of her head. "I am, too, but we're going to have to take it a day at a time."

What the h.e.l.l? He didn't like having his words thrown back at him. "Let's take it a week-a month-at a time."

She smiled at him, soft and sweet and a little sad, but she didn't back down. "I don't want to hurt you again, and I certainly don't want you to hurt me. We need to learn more about each other and actually, you know, date or something. I mean, we've slept together twice, but we've never even gone out."

"That's not true. We've been dating ever since you stole my pie." But he got where she was coming from. She'd shared bits and pieces about her past, but there was still so much he didn't know about her. Did she hope to have kids? Or would that be another wrench in their relationship?

"While you took all your randoms to dinner, you've never taken me anywhere. Like I'm an embarra.s.sment or something." A tremor in her voice.

He'd hurt her. However unintentionally, he'd hurt her. "I'm taking you out tonight. Don't make any other plans."

She sighed. "Doesn't have to be tonight. I'm not trying to rush you, Beck. Not anymore."

"Tonight," he insisted. "And every night after."

Another sad smile. "I'm not hogging all your spare time, and I'm not putting a label on us. Not officially."

"No label?" He exploded. "That's what you've been pushing for since day one."

"Girls are allowed to change their minds."

He was in her face a second later, practically breathing fire. "Do you plan to see other men?"

"No." Her glare was sharp enough to cut gla.s.s. "Will you see other women?"

"No," he said. "I told you I wouldn't. I have no desire for anyone else."

"Even though I won't be sleeping with you again? Not until we're labeled?"

He unveiled his slowest, wickedest grin. "Think to hold out on me, do you, baby? We'll see how long you last now that you know what it's like to be filled. We might have scratched an itch today, but you'll be begging for me soon enough."

She returned his grin, a woman who'd come to learn the power she held, making his gut twist. "Or you'll be begging for me."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

HARLOW EMERGED FROM the room, spotted Dottie leaning against the wall, fanning her flushed cheeks, and blushed. There wasn't time to issue a warning-cover your eyes...or not, yeah, probably not-before Beck came up behind Harlow wearing only a towel. He pushed something into her pocket.

"Your phone," he said, and nipped her earlobe. "As my girlfriend, it's your duty-no, your honor-to send me hourly-half-hourly-reports about your day. I'll be waiting. And yes, I just labeled you."

Tingles p.r.i.c.ked the back of her neck. "It's only a label if I accept it. And are you sure you want to know about the joys of scrubbing toilets?"

"More than anything. I'll prepare to be riveted."

Pulling away from him might have been the toughest thing she'd ever done, but she managed it.

"I want one of those," Dottie said as Harlow closed the door, ensuring Beck wouldn't overhear the rest. "I moved to the city for a few years and got married, but we divorced after only six months. If there's a trick to keeping a guy like that, you have to tell me."

"There's no trick." She hooked her arm through Dottie's and led her down the hall. "If being yourself isn't enough, the guy isn't worth your time." As Dottie's shoulders slumped with disappointment, Harlow said, "You're amazing. Never let anyone convince you otherwise. Now. Do you have a particular guy in mind?"

A blush stained Dottie's cheeks.

"You do! Who is it?"

The girl pressed her lips together in a firm line.

"You can trust me, you know," Harlow said. "I'm not going to use the information against you. I've learned my lesson about treating people that way, and I would honestly rather die as some zombie's dinner."

Dottie took a deep breath before admitting softly, "Daniel Porter."

"He's a good choice, though I happen to know he's a bit commitment-shy. But who knows? You could be the girl to win him over, and he is currently single." Jessie Kay had moved on, Brook Lynn said.

"He's also here," Dottie whispered with a dreamy sigh. "He came in about half an hour ago to rent a room...and requested your service."

"Why don't you do the cleaning?"

"I would, but he paid extra for you," the girl grumbled.

No way she'd go in there alone, leaving Dottie to fear the worst. "Well, I'll definitely need your help."

Dottie licked her lips, nodded reluctantly. They found a cleaning cart and pushed it to room twenty-five. A tremor rocked the girl as Harlow reached up and knocked.

"Remember, just be yourself," Harlow whispered. "You are a treasure, and you deserve to be treated that way."

Daniel pulled open the door a few seconds later, looking gorgeous in a black shirt and a faded pair of jeans. Dog tags hung at his neck, a tattoo peeked from the sleeve of his shirt, and his feet were bare. He was totally bad-boy hot, and Dottie certainly noticed, her tremors intensifying.

"We're here to clean your already-clean room," Harlow said with sa.s.s, and he moved back, allowing them to step inside.

He hadn't brought a bag, and he hadn't hung a single piece of clothing in the closet or disrupted the sheets or even used one of the towels in the bathroom.

"Wh-where would you like us to start, Mr. Porter?" Dottie's voice was low and sweet and layered with nerves.

"I'd like to speak with Harlow, if you don't mind. In private."

"Of course." Dottie hung her head and padded toward the door, but Harlow grabbed hold of her wrist and held her in place.

She'd just garnered the slightest bit of Dottie's trust. Being alone with Daniel would jeopardize such a fragile bond.

"Whatever you say to me," she said, "I'll just repeat to my partner, so save me the trouble and talk while we work."

Daniel sat at the desk while Harlow messed up his perfectly made bed in order to remake it. She claimed one side and Dottie, who wouldn't pull her gaze from the sheets, claimed the other.

"Last chance to hear what I've got to say without an audience," Daniel said.

"Talk," Harlow replied.

He gave a clipped nod. "Since Jessie Kay was hanging around the new guys so much, I had a few contacts look into them. Jase went to prison for manslaughter, West did a few stints in rehab and Beck has a juvenile record. He fought. A lot."

I know. He told me. "Almost everyone in town knows about Jase. He served his time, and he's a good guy. As for West and Beck..." Harlow walked to Daniel's chair, placed her hands on the arms and leaned into his face.

"If you're about to kiss me in thanks," he said, "don't. I like you as a friend. That's why I'm here."

Warm pleasure spread through her. Look at me. I bagged another friend. At this rate, I'll have the town in the palm of my hand by Christmas. "One, I'm into Beck. Two, Beck would never hurt me. If you start spreading rumors to the contrary, I might have to serve a little time in prison myself-for premeditated murder. I wouldn't like hurting you. We're friends, you just said so, but I'd do it nonetheless."

Daniel studied her for a long while before nodding his understanding.

"Thank you." She hugged him-she just couldn't help herself-before turning to Dottie, who was wide-eyed with surprise. "Finish up here, will you?"

"Y-yes."

In the hall, she texted Beck, the need to reach out to him-to torment him-too strong to deny.

What R U wearing??

His reply came a few seconds later.

Now that I'm talking 2 U? A smile.

Wish U were wearing ME??

Only more than anything ever.

GOOD! U can wish but U can't touch. Bet U'll B the 1st 2 cave.

Really?? Good luck resisting THIS.

A picture accompanied the text, and a blush crept over her cheeks. He'd actually sent her a picture of his bare b.u.t.t. Except another picture came in a few seconds later, only it was panned farther out, revealing the "crack" she'd previously seen was actually the line between his pressed-together knees.

His next text read, Dirty minded girl.

Grinning, she skipped to the next room. As she cleaned, she mentally checked out, operating on autopilot-dust, scrub, vacuum, make bed. Rinse/repeat with the next set of rooms. The only time she came alive was her break, when she texted Beck.

Her: This toilet is so big...so hard...

Beck: Yeah, baby. Yeah. Tell me more.

Her: It's so wet.

Beck: Now UR just being cruel. What's it wearing? Describe in minute detail.

She laughed. This man...oh, this man.

When she knocked on the door of her final room, she realized she'd worked twelve hours straight. A first for her, and it felt good. Look how far she'd come. From impoverished and down on her luck to making a living without help from anyone. She now had two jobs, one an outlet for her art, her greatest pa.s.sion. Well, maybe not her greatest. Not any longer. She had Beck...for the moment, at least.

The temporariness of their arrangement was the only wrench in a seemingly glorious future.

Tawny Ferguson opened up and glared all kinds of hatred at her. Scott Cameron-her cousin-stood behind her, grinning a big bad wolf grin.

You've got to be kidding me. "I just came to tell you I'm done for the day. Your room will have to wait."