Flashfire by Deborah Cooke Read Free Book Online

flourish. She’d bet it had something to do with this hot seat.
    Well, two could play that game.

    The firestorm was more infuriating than Lorenzo could have imagined.
    It had only just ignited, but already it burned with an insistence that drove every other thought from his mind. He could think only of Ms. Practicality, sitting there with her arms folded around herself. Everything about her said “prim.” Everything about her was a denial of pleasure and passion, the two things he found most important in life.
    The firestorm ensured that he wanted to change her view. He wanted to coax her to relax, make her smile, make her shiver. He wanted to peel off her jeans, unfasten that ponytail, and run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to see her naked. He wanted to caress her skin. He wanted to hear the sound of her laughter.
    Of her orgasm.
    The firestorm was messing with him by partnering him with a woman so vastly different from himself.
    And Lorenzo didn’t appreciate it.
    He very nearly screwed up the escape, he was so distracted by the simmer lit by her presence. The persistent lick of the firestorm’s flames drove every thought from his mind except the prospect of sex.
    Lots of it.
    He could only work with the heat of the firestorm by persuading himself that a brilliantly executed finale might earn her smile.
    Even Lorenzo didn’t truly believe that.
    It would take more than that to make Ms. Skeptical crack a smile.
    Unfortunately, his imagination was more than ready to conjure possibilities.
    None of which had anything to do with executing a flawless illusion.
    He silently cursed the firestorm.
    It made no difference.
    When Lorenzo strode down the aisle and found his destined mate still scowling—obviously doubtful of his skills—he nearly roared with frustration. His irritation only heightened his reaction, making him more aware of her. If anything, the firestorm burned hotter, taunting him.
    It was enough to tempt Lorenzo to take a real risk. He wanted to provoke a reaction from her.
    Any reaction would do. Lorenzo was sure that it was her composure that grated upon him. He was consumed with her and she was completely indifferent to him.
    The part of his mind that remained rational—instead of rapturous—recognized that this was a problem. He knew that a distraction could completely condemn his scheduled feat at the end of this week. If the firestorm continued to burn hotter with every passing moment, he’d be a disaster by the next morning.
    When Lorenzo invited questions with his usual aplomb, he knew with sudden conviction what he had to do. He had to satisfy the firestorm. Immediately. If not sooner. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake with this upcoming spectacle, the planned pinnacle of his career. He couldn’t afford to lose control of the variables at this precise moment in time.
    Perfection demanded the elimination of distractions.
    If Lorenzo was to be cursed with a firestorm, he wasn’t going to waste any more time than was necessary in seeing it satisfied. He knew all the stories. He knew that the firestorm only burned hotter and hotter the longer it remained unsated. He knew that it was supposed to be the mark of a
Pyr
meeting his destined mate. He knew that Erik argued in favor of creating a lasting partnership with the woman in question.
    Lorenzo didn’t care about any of that. His firestorm was an obstacle and a problem. The sooner it was satisfied, the better. It wasn’t as if he believed that this woman would go home from vacation pregnant with a baby dragon shifter. That was just
Pyr
superstition, perpetuated and buttressed by romantic idiots like Erik, leader of the
Pyr,
who encouraged the
Pyr
to make permanent relationships.
    He worked alone and always would.
    Lorenzo knew he would have been kinder if his apparent mate hadn’t been so determined to believe him a fraud. If she had been softer, more feminine, more alluring, more his type of woman—well, he might have been more