Burn for Me Read Online Free PDF

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    He slid his hand into her hair, tangling it around his fingers.
    We can’t do this anymore.
    She opened her mouth to say it, the words hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t force them out.
    Tate turned her around, his brown eyes boring into hers as he backed her up against the wall.
    Stroking one hand up her side, he slid it under her shirt and the heat of his hand on her flesh was a shocking, brutal pleasure. After three years, she should be used to this. She knew she should. It shouldn’t feel like she was cutting out a part of herself to think about pushing him away.
    Just do it.
    But then, as she tried to brace herself to do just that, he dipped his head and rubbed his cheek against hers. There was no deep, breath-stealing kiss. She might have been able to find the strength to stand against the want. She always wanted him and she had to find a way to live without that. The strength drained out of her legs and she had to brace her body against the wall just to stay upright.
    His gentleness was even harder to handle just then. If he had just pulled her against him, shown her all the heat and hunger that raged inside, then she might have been able to handle it.
    “What’s wrong, Ali?” he whispered, his lips moving against her skin. “You look so sad. I hate it when you’re sad.”
    She fisted her hands in his shirt and tried to force the words out.
    We need to end this .
    “It’s because of…” He paused and she heard him swallow, felt the uneven ragged motion of his chest. “Hell, I’ve been an ass the past week. I know I have. I’m sorry.”
    Don’t, she thought. Please don’t make this any harder .
    His arms came around her and he tucked her closer. “I’m trying not to be. It’s just—”
    His body spasmed.
    Ali felt her heart wrench in her chest as a harsh, ragged sob ripped out of him.
    You son of a bitch. Don’t do this to me now . Closing her eyes, she pressed her brow to his chest and then slid a hand up to cup his cheek. Under her hand, she felt the rough stubble rasp against her palm. “Tate, don’t.”
    “If you’re nice to me after I’ve been an asshole … hell.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “I don’t deserve it. I’m just ragged right now. But I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I’m sorry I’ve been doing it.”
    Taking it out on me . She wanted to laugh at the insanity of it. If only he would take some of his grief out on her. Maybe then she could help him with it. But all he ever did was bottle everything up. Battered, torn, she sagged against him even as she tried to find the strength to pull away.
    *   *   *
    Ali sighed against him and some of that tension faded out of her.
    A fear he couldn’t fully understand eased inside him and he pressed his lips to her neck. He breathed in the scent of her, almost drunk on it already. Warm and soft, she smelled like cookies and coffee and her. Soft, sweet Ali. Her body was the sweetest pleasure he’d ever known, and all he wanted to do was hold her, get lost in her.
    “Don’t give up on me. I’m trying.”
    Her hand curved around his neck.
    “Don’t give up on you.” She was quiet for a moment, then she slowly eased back, eyeing him with a look he couldn’t even begin to understand.
    It left a tightness in his chest, though and that fear came rushing back at him. He wanted to grab her back and hold her against him, but his mind was already processing what he’d just let slip out.
    What in the fuck was he thinking? Why had he said that?
    “Tate, giving up on you would imply we had something to give up on.” Smiling sadly, she shook her head and moved over to the fridge. “We don’t. We’re friends. Sometimes, we have sex.”
    Sex.
    No. He’d had sex before.
    What he had when he was with Ali was a lot more than sex.
    She pulled the fridge open and grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf. He stood there in silence as she poured a glass. “You’re asking me not to give up on a