IGNITING DESIRE - BURNING FOR YOU SERIES

The moment their eyes met, something dangerous ignited.

Callie Morgan had never believed in love at first sight. Lust? Sure. A fleeting pulse of attraction? Absolutely. But what roared to life inside her the moment she laid eyes on him was far more treacherous. It was raw, it was primal-and it was immediate.

He stood across the crowded lobby of the Carlton Hotel, dressed in a crisp black suit that molded to his tall, broad-shouldered frame like it had been stitched by sin itself. His hair was tousled to perfection, dark like espresso, and his jaw was the kind that made women stare too long and forget to breathe. But it was his eyes that undid her. Piercing and dark, like they held secrets no man had any business knowing. He wasn't smiling. He didn't need to. He looked at her like he already knew what she tasted like.

Callie blinked, tried to look away.

She couldn't.

The moment held. A beat too long.

She was here for work-her first luxury event as an independent event planner. The stakes were high, her nerves already rattled, and now this stranger-this devastatingly hot stranger-was looking at her like she was tonight's entertainment.

She sucked in a breath, turning her attention back to her clipboard, praying he didn't walk over.

He did.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice like velvet smoke, low and intimate. "Are you in charge of this event?"

Callie glanced up. Dear God, he smelled good-woodsy, clean, and expensive. She forced herself to stay professional, even as heat coiled in her belly. "Yes. I'm the event planner. Can I help you?"

"I hope so," he said with a smirk that curled the edge of his mouth in a way that was both maddening and irresistible. "I'm looking for the executive suite. I was told to check in here."

She flicked her eyes to his luggage-sleek black leather, monogrammed. "You must be a VIP guest. I can walk you over."

"Appreciated," he said smoothly. "I'm Jace."

Callie hesitated for a second. The name sounded familiar.

She froze. Jace Bennett.

Oh hell. Jace Bennett.

Billionaire investor. The man whose name was attached to half the building projects in the city. The client backed the company that hired her. Her stomach twisted.

And here she was, ogling him like he wasn't forbidden fruit dressed in Armani.

She extended her hand. "Callie Morgan. Welcome to Carlton."

His hand engulfed hers-warm, confident, a slow slide of heat-and lingered for just a second longer than necessary. Her pulse kicked.

He noticed.

"I like the way you say my name," he murmured.

She blinked. "I didn't say it."

"You did. In your head."

She laughed, nervous and breathy, and turned on her heel before she did something ridiculous like melt. "Follow me."

The walk to the elevator was short, but the silence was loaded. Every step next to him was like walking beside a storm about to crack open the sky. He didn't talk. He just watched her, and she felt it-every slow, sweeping glance that skimmed over the curve of her waist, the swing of her hips, the bare skin at the nape of her neck.

She tried to stay cool. Tried.

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside. The moment the doors shut behind them, the tension tripled.

He stepped closer. Not touching-never touching-but close enough she could feel the warmth of his body. Smell his cologne. Imagine things she had no business imagining.

"Is it always this hot in here?" he asked, voice low and lazy.

Her breath hitched. "It's the suit."

"Ah." He glanced down at himself. "Too much?"

"Only if you're trying to kill someone with it."

He chuckled, a sound rich and masculine. "Tell me, Callie, are you always this charming, or is it just me?"

She turned to him, brows raised. "Are you always this forward, or am I just lucky?"

His eyes darkened. "Depends on what kind of luck we're talking about."

The elevator dinged.

Thank God.

Callie practically fled the moment the doors opened, stepping out into the quiet luxury of the penthouse floor. She walked him to the double doors of the executive suite, her heels clicking on the marble.

"This is your room," she said, suddenly hyper-aware of how alone they were on this floor. "Everything's been prepared per your assistant's requests. If you need anything else-"

"I need something."

She looked up.

He was watching her again, gaze searing. Intimate.

"I need to know if you're single."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Callie," he said, voice dropping. "You've got this look in your eyes. The way you bite your lip when you're nervous? It's distracting as hell. And I'm trying to be a gentleman here. But you're not making it easy."

Her lips parted.

He took a step closer. "Tell me to back off. Tell me you're not interested. And I'll walk into that suite and shut the door."

She should've. God, she should have.

But her mouth was dry. Her heart raced. And the part of her that had been numb for far too long stirred with a hungry purr.

"I'm not dating anyone," she whispered.

That was all the invitation he needed.

His hand slid behind her neck, tilting her chin up, and his mouth found hers in a kiss that was all heat and danger and want. Her breath caught as his lips pressed into hers-soft at first, testing, teasing-then hungry, urgent. He kissed like a man who didn't play games. Like he already knew how to unravel her.

Callie moaned, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as his tongue swept into her mouth. Heat surged between her thighs. She forgot who he was, why she shouldn't be doing this. All she knew was the way his body felt against hers, hard and unrelenting. The way her skin sparked under his touch.

Then reality crashed down like ice water.

She pulled back, breathless. "Wait."

He froze, breathing hard, his hands still framing her face.

"I-I can't," she said, chest heaving. "This isn't... I'm not that girl. And you're-God, you're my client's investor."

His jaw tensed. But he didn't look angry. He looked intrigued.

"Then I guess we'll have to pretend this didn't happen."

She stared at him, heart pounding, lips swollen.

He turned, swiped his key card, and stepped inside the suite.

But before he shut the door, he looked over his shoulder. "But if I were just some guy... I'd already have you against this wall, making you scream my name."

The door clicked shut.

Callie stood there, trembling.

The forbidden spark had lit something inside her.

And now... it was only a matter of time before it burned out of control.

Callie barely slept that night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him-Jace Bennett. The way his hand had curled around her neck. The way his mouth had claimed hers like he owned it. Like he owned her.

It was madness. A kiss like that should've been forgettable. A stolen moment-heated, forbidden, but meaningless.

Except it hadn't been meaningless. And that was the problem.

Callie wrapped her robe tighter around her waist and stood at the window of her suite, the skyline glittering like spilled diamonds outside. She was still at the hotel-she had to be, with the event set to launch in less than thirty-six hours. Everything had to go perfectly.

Which meant she couldn't afford any distractions.

Especially not six-foot-two, dark-eyed, dangerously seductive distractions.

Still, her fingers drifted unconsciously to her lips.

God. That kiss had ruined her.

She needed coffee. Strong coffee.

The Carlton's executive lounge was quiet at seven in the morning, the soft hum of jazz filtering through the air as Callie poured herself a cup. Her hair was in a messy bun, oversized blazer draped over a fitted tank, her leggings tucked into ankle boots. She looked composed, professional.

She did not feel that way.

She'd barely taken her first sip when a voice wrapped around her like smoke.

"You always look this good before sunrise?"

Her breath caught. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. That voice-low, smooth, and sinful-was etched into her skin now.

She turned anyway.

Jace stood at the lounge's coffee bar, dressed down in dark jeans and a white Henley that clung to his body in all the wrong-or right-places. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd just stepped out of the shower. Her brain stalled at the image.

She swallowed hard. "I could ask you the same thing."

He smiled. Slow. Lethal. "I don't think I slept."

Join the club.

Callie gestured to the second carafe. "Coffee?"

"Only if you're pouring."

He stepped beside her, and she caught a whiff of his cologne-clean, masculine, understated. It wrapped around her, tugging at the part of her that had been aching since last night.

She handed him a cup.

Their fingers brushed.

Heat flared.

"You avoiding me?" he asked casually, though there was nothing casual about the way he looked at her.

"I'm working."

"So am I."

She raised a brow. "You're a billionaire. Your version of work probably involves people bringing you cocktails while you sign papers on a yacht."

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "You're not far off. Though lately, I spend more time in boardrooms than anywhere else. Still, this trip wasn't about business."

"Oh?" She sipped her coffee. "Then what brings you to L.A.?"

He tilted his head. "You."

She nearly choked.

"I beg your pardon?"

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I knew your company was running the Carlton gala. I've been following your work for a while now."

She blinked. "You're saying... you came here because of me?"

He nodded slowly, gaze never leaving hers. "I've seen what you do. How you take something ordinary and turn it into an experience. I wanted to see it up close. And, I admit"-he stepped even closer-"I was curious about the woman behind the elegance."

Her breath caught.

He wasn't just flirting. He wasn't even trying to be subtle. Jace Bennett didn't just want her-he'd targeted her.

And somehow... that made her even more breathless.

"You still think this is a good idea?" she asked, voice soft.

He took a sip of his coffee. "I think the best ideas are the dangerous ones."

She should have walked away. Should've reminded him that mixing business with pleasure never ended well. But instead, she lingered.

"Let's say I was tempted," she said, watching him over the rim of her mug. "Let's say I wanted to explore this... thing between us. What happens when the event is over? When the spotlight fades?"

His eyes darkened. "Then I'd still want you. With or without the spotlight."

Her stomach flipped.

This was dangerous. But God, it felt good.

She stepped back, trying to breathe. "I should get to work."

He nodded, no pressure in his posture, but that same intensity lingered in his gaze. "I'll be around."

She turned and walked away, but she felt him watching her, the weight of his desire brushing along her spine like a caress.

---

The day passed in a blur of final planning meetings and high-stakes decisions. By late afternoon, Callie was back on the ballroom floor, overseeing the floral arrangements and running last-minute checks on the lighting grid. The room was stunning-warm gold tones, cascading orchids, candles in glass columns lining the walkways. Romantic. Intimate.

Too intimate.

Especially when Jace strolled in mid-afternoon, talking with one of the hotel executives. His gaze found her instantly.

She tried to focus on the seating chart. On the lighting cues. On anything that wasn't him.

He approached the arch of candles she was inspecting, alone now, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder.

"You keep making this place more seductive every time I walk in," he said.

She turned, lips tight. "This is a professional venue. It's not supposed to be seductive."

"It's working on me anyway."

She sighed. "You're relentless."

"I know what I want."

"And if I say no?"

"I'll back off."

He meant it. She could see that.

But the problem was... she didn't want him to back off.

"I didn't say no," she said quietly.

Something shifted in his expression. A flicker of heat. A step closer.

"Then say when."

She swallowed. Hard.

"I'll text you."

That crooked smile returned. "Looking forward to it."

---

That night, her phone buzzed while she was in bed, a sheet wrapped around her and her hair still damp from a shower.

Jace: Still awake?

She stared at the screen, heartbeat loud in her ears.

Callie: Couldn't sleep. Again.

Jace: Same. Want company?

She hesitated.

Then typed:

Callie: What happens if I say yes?

His reply was instant.

Jace: Then I'll knock. And we won't sleep for a very different reason.

She didn't answer. Not right away.

She got up. Poured a glass of wine. Pacing her suite, thinking.

Wanting.

Finally, she typed one word.

Callie: Yes.

She barely had time to turn toward the door before a knock echoed across the room.

She opened it.

Jace stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes molten.

Neither of them said a word.

He stepped in.

The door clicked shut.

And the distance between them vanished.

His hands found her hips, mouth crashing into hers, and she moaned against him, clutching the front of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. He lifted her effortlessly, walking her back until she hit the bed, sinking into the mattress beneath him.

Their bodies tangled, breaths shallow, heat exploding between every kiss, every stroke, every needy grind.

But when his lips found her neck and she gasped, "Wait," he stopped.

She cupped his face, her voice trembling. "I just... I want this. But I want to feel it. All of it. Not rushed. Not just sex. I want... more."

He stared at her for a beat.

Then brushed his lips against her forehead.

"You'll get more," he whispered. "So much more."

And he kissed her again.

Not rushed.

Not just sex.

But the beginning of something far more tempting than either of them was ready to admit.

The air was heavy with silence-delicate, loaded, expectant.

Callie lay on her side beneath the soft, white hotel sheets, staring at the shape of Jace's back as he sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, broad shoulders etched in shadows from the low bedside light.

The kiss had lingered. The touches were teased. But they hadn't gone all the way-not yet.

And yet, it already felt like she'd let him deeper than she ever intended.

"You're quiet," she said softly, the words feeling louder in the stillness between them.

Jace turned his head slightly. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous habit."

He chuckled once but didn't turn all the way around. "Not as dangerous as last night."

Her lips curled despite the nerves still dancing in her chest. She tugged the sheets around her bare legs and sat up slightly. "Regrets?"

He glanced back at her then, eyes dark and unreadable. "Not even close."

She let out a breath. "Good. Because I was worried."

"About?"

"You. Me. Us." She paused. "This."

Jace stood slowly, walking toward the window, the city lights casting a golden halo around his frame. "There's an 'us' already?"

She bit her lip. "That's not what I meant."

"Then say what you mean."

She hesitated. "This thing between us... it's intense. And we barely know each other."

"I know enough," he said without turning around.

"What do you know?"

"That you're passionate. Fiercely talented. You take your work personally. You've got this fire that you try to hide under all that polish, but it's there." He paused. "And I know you taste like temptation."

Callie's stomach fluttered. "That's surface stuff."

He turned around now, slow and deliberate. "Then show me what's underneath."

She exhaled shakily. "Is that what this is, Jace? An exploration?"

He stepped closer. "No, Callie. This is combustion. I see it when I look at you. When you look at me. You're scared to get burned. But I promise you-there's heat worth chasing."

She stared up at him, her heart thudding against her ribs like it wanted to leap into his hands.

He was dangerous. She knew that.

But maybe danger wasn't something to avoid.

Maybe it was something to surrender to.

She stood and closed the distance between them, her hands sliding up his bare chest. "You want underneath the surface?" she asked, voice trembling.

He nodded, wordless.

"Then don't just undress me, Jace. Uncover me."

His lips crushed into hers like a vow.

---

The hours blurred after that.

Not rushed. Not frantic.

But slow.

Tender.

Exploratory.

They made it to the bed eventually, their clothes scattered like confessions across the floor. His mouth traced over her collarbone, her thighs, the curve of her back as if committing every inch to memory.

She gasped his name when his fingers found her, when his mouth replaced them and worshiped her like she was sacred and sinful all at once.

And when he slid inside her-slowly, deeply-it wasn't just her body that welcomed him.

It was something deeper.

Something she'd locked away for too long.

Jace moved with purpose, every thrust patient and intentional, drawing her cries from her lips like a song only he knew the rhythm of. She clung to him, fingernails scraping across his back, her breaths desperate, her body tightening around his.

And when she shattered beneath him, he followed with a low, guttural groan that seemed to come from the center of his soul.

They lay tangled together afterward, breathless and slick with sweat, limbs still intertwined.

No words.

No lies.

Just touch. And truth.

---

Sometime around 3 a.m., Callie stirred.

Jace was still awake, one arm cradling her against him, his chest rising and falling in that steady rhythm that had lulled her into this safe, impossible bubble.

"What are you thinking about now?" she asked.

He looked down, brushed a stray hair from her face. "You."

"That's vague."

"Fine." He smirked. "I was thinking about how wild it is that someone like you is still single."

She raised a brow. "Someone like me?"

"Smart. Sexy. Strong. Kind. Addictively stubborn." He paused. "Don't tell me I'm the only man who's noticed."

"You're not." She shifted slightly, fingers grazing his stomach. "But most didn't look past the surface."

"And I did?"

"You did."

He kissed her forehead. "Then I'm not going anywhere."

Those words hit her harder than she expected.

She wanted to believe him.

But promises made in bed rarely lasted past sunrise.

---

The following morning, Callie dressed quietly, her body still humming from his touch. She was due back on the ballroom floor in an hour. She didn't want to be late, didn't want to give anyone a reason to question her professionalism.

Jace watched her from the bed, propped on one elbow.

"You don't have to sneak out."

She laughed softly. "It's not sneaking out if I say goodbye."

He reached for her hand, pulling her down for a slow kiss. "Tonight?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Text me."

He smiled.

And for the first time in a long time, she walked away from a man's bed not feeling empty-but electrified.

---

Later that evening, as the first wave of guests began arriving in glittering gowns and tuxedos, Callie moved like a conductor guiding an invisible orchestra. The music was soft, the champagne flowed, and the atmosphere radiated opulence.

But her mind kept drifting to him.

Jace.

He hadn't texted.

Not a single word all day.

She tried not to let it bother her. Tried to focus.

But each passing hour stirred something uncertain inside her.

By midnight, most of the guests had filtered out. Callie stood near the stage, clipboard clutched in her hand, trying to process everything.

The night had gone perfectly.

And yet, she felt... unsteady.

"Looking for me?"

The voice was low, right behind her.

She turned sharply.

Jace stood there, dressed in a charcoal tux that made him look like sin personified. His hair slightly tousled, a single button undone at his collar.

He looked like every fantasy she'd ever tried to bury.

"Where've you been?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Meetings. Delays. I didn't want to text until I could see your face again."

Relief coursed through her like heat.

"Well?" she teased. "What do you think?"

He stepped closer, eyes devouring her. "You're breathtaking. And this event... it's more than I imagined."

"Thank you."

"But I wasn't talking about the room."

Her breath caught.

He leaned in, voice warm against her ear. "I want more nights. More mornings. More you."

Callie closed her eyes.

Because beneath the surface... She wanted the same thing.

She just wasn't sure what came next.

But as his hand brushed hers, and his fingers twined with her own, she realized something-

Whatever came next would be unforgettable.

And she was ready to burn for it.