Burning for You (17 page)

Joe unlocked the door and tossed his keys into their spot. He closed the door, twirled Taylor, and pressed her up against it, his hands immediately finding her breasts, and his lips her mouth.

She moaned immediately. “Good,” he mumbled, his fingers reaching for her hem so he could pull up her shirt and slide his hands over the bare skin of her stomach. “Oh God yes.”

He slipped under the bra, pebbled her nipple. “So perfect.”

“Last time we were in this position you made me …” she breathlessly told him, her words hardening him further.

“Well, you’ll come a lot tonight,” he promised.

“I thought you needed food.”

“I do.” He exposed her breasts and lowered his mouth to a peak, licked his tongue over it. “But real food can wait. I want to taste you.”

As he drew her nipple into her mouth, she trembled and went “oooh.” He throbbed, so hard it hurt more than the blows he’d taken tonight.

Brutus rubbed against his legs and then, not getting attention, bit him. “Hey.”

Joe drew back, used his leg to push the cat aside. Taylor stood pressed up against his doorway, mouth swollen and clothing bunched. Her half-lidded eyes opened. “You have a cat.”

“That monster right there. Brutus. Bad cat.” Brutus simply licked an orange paw.

“He’s sweet.” She pulled her shirt down. “A good break. Let’s get you some food.”

“I liked what I was eating,” he grumbled.

“It can wait until after you eat. Are you planning on stopping and running me off?”

He thought of his scarred skin. Manned up. “No. That was a mistake. Told you, I’ve been making a lot of them. But not tonight.”

“Then let’s eat. What do you have in this place?”

The kitchen was in the middle, with his bedroom behind. She pulled open the refrigerator door. “Is this roast beef good?”

“Yes. Bought it two days ago.”

“Perfect.” She grabbed that, some cheese, mayo, and the loaf of bread he also kept in the icebox. Then she made them both sandwiches.

“You know your way around a kitchen.” His turn to open the refrigerator door, and he pulled out two bottles of beer. He held one up, and she took it.

“Thanks.” She twisted the top off and took a swig. “I raid my mom’s so much that I’ve become a professional forager. I couldn’t believe she took extra days on me.”

“But she’s back now,” Joe said, between big bites.

“Yes. I’d missed my apartment. It’s not much, but it’s mine. My first real space that’s just mine, you know?”

“I’ve been here years. It’s small, but all I really need.”

“I noticed you had a very big TV.”

He grinned. “A guy has to have some vices. I like movies. I don’t even have cable, just Netflix. Really, that’s all I need.”

“So you’re a simple man.”

“Maybe?” He wasn’t sure what she meant. She tore some of the roast beef from her sandwich and dropped it on the ground for the cat. “He’s a monster.”

Brutus put two paws on her leg and stood up on hind legs to ask for more. Taylor gave him another morsel and then shooed him away. “He’s a good boy. Like his owner.”

“Honey, there’s nothing good about me. Except maybe what I’m going to do to you in a few minutes. Although, actually, that’s going to be great.”

“Promises, promises.” She winked at him, making him hard again. “We will see.”

He swallowed the last bit of his food, so ready for her. He reached across the small table and toyed with the fingers on her free hand. “You should know something. About me.” He hesitated. “For when we get naked. For we are getting naked.” He emphasized the last word.

Taylor’s plate was empty. “I already know.”

He frowned, stunned. “Know what?”

She steadily held his gaze. “Why you wear those long socks that hide your legs.”

He thumped against the chair back, breaking their connection. “Susie. She has a big mouth.”

“She told me your own burns are why the book is so important to you, that’s all. Now it all makes sense.”

His need to make love to her warred with self-preservation. “She shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t her place.”

“Joe.” Taylor leaned so she could grab his hand in hers. She squeezed. “You are more than your skin. I don’t have sex with people based on how they look. It’s the person inside. You matter. Hell, you’ll only be the third person ever.”

Warmth traveled from her touch. She didn’t let him go, but rose to her feet and tugged him after her. He followed. “I’m glad she told me, because if you stop because you’ve got cold feet, I am going to be very unhappy. And you don’t want me unhappy, do you? Not when you promised to make me happy?”

No, Joe didn’t want that. He wanted her writhing under him as he plunged into her. He wanted her to be different, as he already believed her to be. “Let’s make you happy.”

“Let’s.” She led him into his bedroom, and before he could kiss her, she pushed him backward so his knees connected with the mattress and he sat on his bed.

He hadn’t closed the blinds, so the room was awash with the glow from the streetlamps below. She leaned down to kiss him, and Joe shut his eyes and ceded control … for now. He let her kiss him, let her explore his mouth, and let her mate her tongue to his.

He moved his arm to reach for her, but she blocked his efforts and instead slid her lips down his neck. Her kisses on the sensitive skin of his neck created sweet torture. Then her hands grabbed for the polo waistband and up and off his shirt went, and he sat there with a bulge in his slacks and she stroked his entire hair-covered chest, and where her fingers weren’t, her lips were.

Then her fingers found the belt buckle, and he resisted the urge to grab her hand and make her stop. He’d always been the one to direct foreplay, but he wanted this. Wanted to see what she’d do. His desire to trust conflicted with his controlling nature, so he let her have free reign. The rasp of the zipper going down had him sucking in a fast inhale, and her hand reaching into his boxers had him gasping for air. She was kryptonite. As she circled him and ran a thumb over his wet tip, resistance became futile. He’d let her do anything she wanted.

He kicked off his dress shoes, lifted his hips so she could remove his pants. She slid the garment to his knees, meaning most of his scars were still hidden. She cupped his sac and then she trailed tickling fingers down his inner thighs, down legs he widened to allow better access. She dropped to her knees before him, and he scooted to the edge of the mattress as she brought him into her mouth.

The air whooshed from his lungs as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped him. So sweet. His need balled into a fist as she circled him with her tongue as if he were a delicious sugar treat. He held back, wanting, craving to thrust. “Must stop …” he said, words jagged.

“No,” she told him, her fingers making patterns on his inner thigh. Another hand cupped his balls, massaged, and his lower back arched as he couldn’t resist any longer and spilled himself in shattering release.

Taylor’s mouth kissed him through all of it, and he fell onto his back, spent. “Holy shit” was all he could say as his heart rate tried to recover from being shot to the stratosphere.

As he lay there, he’d never felt so vulnerable. He held himself still as she removed the rest of his clothes, exposing his skin. His breath hitched—waiting for the rejection or revulsion that didn’t come. He made himself trust, began to relax as she touched her way down his calves, caressing the scars and the skin that lacked sensitivity. He pushed onto his elbows and then up to a seated position. Croaked out her name, “Taylor.”

Her gaze locked onto his, held it without wavering as she rolled down the second sock and tossed it aside. Their eyes held as she kissed the inside of his calf, and Joe felt a tear threaten and bit his lip. Something inside him shifted. Cracked. She’d stripped him to his birthday suit, albeit now older and damaged, damage he knew she could see in the diluted light. She’d torn down every one of his walls. Before her, he was as open as day.

Normally he liked any sex pitch black, but that would mean he couldn’t see Taylor, whose expression held something he’d never seen on any woman’s face before. He fought back the worry and watched as she took a sip of the beer she’d brought in. “My turn,” she said.

Then standing in front of him, she swayed her hips to silent music, crossed her arms in front of her and peeled off her shirt. He would never look at pink and black stripes the same way again. The push-up made globes of her breasts and its lacy edges hinted at her areolae. He began to move, but she shook her head, so he stayed put and enjoyed the shimmy as she stripped off the black jeans until she wore only the sexy bra and matching thong.

He hardened, not embarrassed to let her see how hot and ready he was again. She took a fingertip and drew a line down his shaft. With that, he moved. Took control back. He stood, drew her to him and crushed his mouth onto hers until he’d made her limp like a cooked noodle. He then threw back his comforter, flipped her into his arms, and placed her onto another one of his indulgences—six-hundred-count sheets as soft as butter.

Kissing her was heaven, and it was his turn to once again sample her body. This time instead of his fingers, he placed his mouth at her core and drank her sweet essence, nectar he’d sampled from his finger after he’d left her house. He hadn’t been able to help himself. Now he slid his palms under her and lifted her to his lips and drank, drawing out wave after wave as she quaked and shattered. He drew back, placed two fingers against her slit to give her another shockwave. Her fingers had gripped the sheets, and he put the heel of one hand to her mound and then replaced his mouth with two fingers from his other hand, which he slid in and out until she came again.

Then he reached into the nightstand for a condom, from an unused box he’d had for what seemed like forever, and parting her legs, slid home.

As he entered her, Taylor’s only cognizant thought was “Finally.”

She wiggled to allow him deeper access, thrust her hands into that gorgeous, tempting hair. She clutched the strands, stroking both his head and his upper back as he went up on his elbows so he could push deep. His eyes had turned to a fathomless, deep blue gray, and she stared into them as she met him thrust for delicious thrust. His largeness stretched her, but her body accommodated and trembled as he rocked her world to another earthshaking orgasm, one whose heights were like nothing she’d experienced before. She clung to him, the intimate act sealing her fate. He’d claimed her, made her his.

Afterwards, they lay intertwined, and she could feel the scarred skin she’d touched earlier against her. She faced him and his hand found her breast and brought her nipple to a straining peak. He kissed her lips. “Good?” he asked between kisses.

“Great,” she said. “You fulfilled your promise.”

He slid a hand between her legs and circled, taking her wetness and making her even slicker. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

An exhausted Joe rolled into the firehouse at seven a.m. He’d had very little sleep.

Not that he minded. When he kissed her good-bye for the third time, this one out in the parking lot, he’d had no regrets. Neither had she.

They hadn’t made any specific plans except to touch base sometime Tuesday about the next few photo shoots. As he worked the next weekend, he would be out of the loop.

“Lieutenant, congrats! We heard you won.” Reid greeted as Joe entered the locker room. They all went on shift at the same time.

“I like how none of you losers bothered to show,” Joe replied, hanging up his personal clothes. He was already in his blue pants and shirt. Given the hot June day, most of his guys were in regulation shorts.

“We’ll be there at Guns ’N Hoses,” Chris promised. “Have we missed that yet?”

“No,” Joe conceded, shutting the locker.

Kyle tilted his head. “You look different.”

“You would too if you went three rounds last night.”

Kyle shook his head. “No, that’s not it. You’ve got bags under your eyes.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, you do. You either had a wicked case of insomnia or you got laid. Since that last one’s not possible …” Kyle’s eyes widened, and Joe knew he’d somehow given himself away. “You got laid.”

“What?” Reid whipped around. “You got some?”

Chris peered closer. “Yeah, you can tell he did. Who was she?”

“It’s the photographer. Has to be,” Reid said. “I knew you liked her. Spill the details.”

“As if,” Joe retorted.

“We were getting worried about you. Did you give her the pink panties?”

“Hell no.” Joe planted his hands on his hips, the memory of the little black and pink thong making his cheeks heat as part of him stirred. He better get them all moving before he embarrassed himself. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We’re still transitioning.”

Joe knew that. While they technically weren’t on the truck until eight a.m., the first hour was used for meetings, acclimation and checking equipment. Until eight, the previous crew was still on call.

“Was it good?”

The question of manhood demanded he answer. “It was great. Now get the hell out of here.”

“Our lieutenant’s in love.” Reid gave a whistle. “Hell is freezing over.”

“Ha-ha. Keep it up and you’ll be on bathroom duty for a month,” Joe threatened.

“Enjoy it while you can. You marry them, and it tapers off when the kids come,” Chris said. “Not that that’s going to happen to me.”

“The man’s engaged and thinks he’s an expert. And no one said anything about marriage.”

“But you know she’s thinking it,” Reid said. “All women do. Except maybe your sister Elaina.”

“You better not be having sex with my sister.”

Reid backpedalled. “No. No. Of course not.”

Uncertain, Joe rolled his eyes and strode toward the office that would be his for the next two days. He pulled out his cell and checked. Nothing. He’d told her to text him if she needed anything. Of course that had been hardly an hour ago. So why was he checking like some giddy high school boy?

“Joe.”

He paused. His boss was in the stationhouse and stood there with Lieutenant Mike Dexter, whose shift Joe was about to replace. “Hey, chief. Dex. What’s up?”