Bring the Heat by Margot Radcliffe (13 ebook reader .txt) 📕

later after they’d “see how things went,” just an unequivocal agreement.

Her breath froze in her throat and she could feel her mouth suspended open in shock.

“Excuse me?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, I’d move to Colorado for you.”

“But you’re building a yacht company and Colorado is, like, the definition of landlocked.”

“So what?” he said. “Do you think I’m going run it like a floor manager or something? I hire people to do those things, Molly.”

A ripple of unease stiffened her spine at the reminder of his power and of just how different they were.

“I see,” she finally said, although she didn’t really. Starting a company to her meant being there overseeing what was happening, feeling the boats being built, the engine humming, the line of the vessel itself. But she supposed that’s why she was on this trip to explore yachts with him because she was more of a hands-on type of person.

“I don’t think you do, but we’ll put a pin in it for now,” he said, finally and blessedly, letting his gaze fall from hers as he leaned back in the chaise.

“I do a lot of hiking in my free time, Oliver,” she added. “You’re telling me you’d like that? Prada doesn’t make hiking boots.”

“Actually, they do, sweetheart, but I hear what you’re saying and I like being anywhere you are, so if you want to take a hike with me, we’re good. If you want to take a hike without me, we’d be good. But this does feel like you’re only proving my point that you’re already putting up roadblocks between us before we begin because you know once we do begin it’ll be amazing.”

He took a drink of his margarita, giving her a sideways glance.

“I’m a logistics person,” she pointed out. “And you and I don’t make logical sense.”

“Keep on going, Molly,” he laughed, truly amused by her. “You can trot out a million reasons a relationship between us wouldn’t work. Hell, maybe you’d be right about a lot of them.” He speared her with his bright green gaze again, gilded with gold from the sunset. “But I’ll be damned if I’d let a bunch of lame hypotheticals get in the way of something I want.”

The intensity of his tone and the magnitude of his words did damage to her equilibrium. And they’d only had one night together.

“They’re not hypotheticals if they’re real,” she informed. “I do like hiking.”

His margarita drained, he placed the glass on the table with a decisive click before turning to her, picking her straight up into his arms and depositing her on his lap.

“I like that you like hiking,” he told her, his hand going back to thread through her hair again, holding her neck steady as he held her eyes. “I like damn near everything I know about you, Molly. That’s why you’re the only person on this fucking boat with me. Regardless of how we move forward or don’t, I’d never try to pick you apart. I like you and if I’m in something I’m in it all the way, not just if it’s convenient to me. Being here is a risk for me and I’ve got my whole future riding on the next couple of months, but one thing I’ll always be sure about is that if you want me, you’ve got me.”

Whoa. Molly could barely breathe, definitely couldn’t think, and when she opened her mouth to reply with something essential and equally important, she didn’t get the chance because his lips closed over hers, demanding, and insistent, and oh, just lovely and sweet. Like he was a man trying to give her what she wanted but kept encountering resistance and was treading carefully.

Molly only knew that on day two of this trip she was already suspiciously happy to be back with her old friend. And as his tongue found hers, greeting and stroking and testing, she decided he was probably right that she was throwing up roadblocks. Oliver’s hands lifted up the hem of her shirt and found bare skin, and she sucked in a breath. His touch was molten fire, the salty sweet taste of alcohol on his tongue so intimate that she pressed farther in until the kiss was so lewd she was sure she was already ready for him.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” she whispered against his lips. “And maybe I’ll let it drop that I’ve moved on with a guy who owns a super yacht. I feel like he probably deserves that.”

His hands tightened on her ass. “And let him know I’m better at hiking, too.”

Molly couldn’t help it—she started giggling again, but that ended soon enough when Oliver captured her mouth in another soul-shattering kiss.

Yeah, a phone call was definitely in order.

CHAPTER SEVEN

OLIVER DIDN’T LOVE that Molly was currently speaking to her ex on the phone while he pretended to work, but he supposed he’d quite literally asked for it. That said, from his chair on the upper deck on the opposite side of the boat from her, he watched as she paced across the floor of the main deck and felt for the angst and heartbreak she was clearly working through.

Despite her discomfort he still liked looking at her—how the sun alighted on her sandy-blond hair, picking up the gold pieces, her lightly tanned skin brought out her big brown eyes, and her pink lips begged for him to kiss her. He’d been touching her basically nonstop and yet he still hadn’t gotten enough. She gripped the railing and he wondered what the hell that fucknut was saying to her, wanting to smooth the crease in between her eyes. He’d basically given up the pretense of working to watch her even though he should be devising a plan to keep her safe in case his parents ever found out about her, and he mostly had, but as things became more serious between them, the plan had to shift to how he could have her in his life and not let