Flirting with Fire (Hot in Chicago #1) (15 page)

“You boys held it together in the Triangle of Death back in ’04. What are you doing now you’re stateside?”

“Fire Department. After Iraq, it’s a picnic.”

Retired Colonel Taylor laughed knowingly. “I can believe that. Good to meet you, Luke.”

“Sir.” Man-to-man nod.

“Bye, Dad. For real this time.” She shut the laptop definitively and went back to the desperate face holding. “That did not just happen. What a disaster.”

“Nah, he liked me.”

“Of course he did. You guys have a million things in common.” A frown puckered her brow. It bothered her that he and her father might be alike in any way.

Why, this just got better and better.

He led her by the hand to the sofa, a bland piece in an apartment that was sterile and impersonal in the way of these short-term accommodations. No photos, no plants on life support, no attempts to make it homey. That she hadn’t settled in or rented a more permanent solution frosted him a bit, but he warmed right up again when he remembered where they had been headed a few moments ago.

She sat down, her eyes wide, her mouth delectably mobile.

He sat beside her. “Now, where were we before we were so hilariously interrupted?”

“We were giving my father an eyeful of his only daughter about to be debauched.”

“By the big bad wolf . . .” With downright debauchery in mind, he pulled up the hem of her shirt all the way over her head, leaving her hair beautifully tousled.

“With my smoke-smudged hands . . .”

Which he now used to peel off her panties. Cute pink ones, like sexy shorts.

“On our nation’s birthday.”

He now put his filthy, un-American hands to the task of laying her flat against the cushions and opening her up to him.

“To life, liberty . . .”

“. . . and the pursuit of orgasms,” she picked up, flashing that naughty smile he adored.

Ah, finally she was getting into the holiday spirit. He kissed her breast, licking over the smoky smear he had imprinted there. He suckled, taking long, slow sips of her nipples, enjoying her gasps of pleasure, hoarding them for later fantasy time. Then he recalled that she liked a little roughness, and he nipped her.

“Luke,” she moaned, his name on her lips a prayer. Her hands found his hair and she held him fast, encouraging him to suck deeper. The quiver in his balls picked up.

Raising his head, he met her lusty gaze. “I thought about you all night, Kinsey. Couldn’t wait to see you like this. At my mercy, wild for me.” He applied an open-mouth kiss to her belly. “I rushed out this morning, floored it in my truck.” More kisses on her silky soft skin, the connection between them ratcheting up with every motion south on her body. “In my hurry to get here, I didn’t even eat. And I never leave the firehouse without fueling up.”

Her fretful glance slipped to the kitchenette. “You want me to make you something?” Asked in a tone of,
You’ve
got
to be shittin’ me.

“Yeah, I do.” He parted her legs and draped them over his shoulders. The view was spectacular, all pretty pink and juicy succulent. The scent of her arousal hiked his pleasure higher and his mouth watered with the need to take his fill. To bury his face in her heaven.

“I want you to make some of that honey so I can feed off your sweetness.”

She squirmed against the sofa, seeking relief. “This is all for you, Luke. I need your mouth on me. Now.”

Bending to his enviable task, he licked her already soaking seam. God, her taste. He could happily live and die here. Against his tongue, the pulse of her beat like a heart, and she made those sexy sounds he had enjoyed so much yesterday. He fed on the hot silk of her sex, every throb like an infusion of fire into his blood.

Around his ears, her thighs clenched, and he redoubled his efforts, licking her long, thrusting his tongue deep, nibbling when he realized she was close. Holding off would make it better for her, so he told his balls to behave. Little fuckers could wait their turn. His woman needed his A game.

He gave her his all. Loved her with his hungry mouth, tested her limits, tested his own. Because a woman as amazing as Kinsey would expect no less. Deserved no less.

And maybe he wanted to hear her beg.

Twenty seconds later, she screamed his name, followed by
pleasepleaseplease
and some very vulgar language. Achievement unlocked.

Finally, after taking her to the edge and pulling back too many times to count, he brought her home. The woman was so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if that yapper dog on the twelfth floor was climbing the walls.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

Not a peep.

“Kinsey?”

“Can’t move,” she finally gasped out. “Orgasm paralysis.”

He chuckled. Bonus points.

“Bedroom?” He scooped up her limp body and held her close. She buried her face in his neck, and the sweet vulnerability of that almost undid him.

“Behind you,” she mumbled. “Second door.”

As he carried her to the bedroom, a swell of protectiveness surged through him, like how he had felt yesterday when she was under attack from her ex. Taking care of her physical needs was one thing, and he supposed it was nice to know she needed him when she was at her lowest. It was a firefighter’s lot and something he went through every day. He ran in when the rats and roaches were running out. People needed him when the shit hit the fan, when they’d screwed up and it was all about to come tumbling down.

For a strong woman like Kinsey to need him when she was down was something. But wouldn’t it be something if she needed him when she was up? Not just the bad times, but the good times, too.

Where the hell was this coming from? Clearly, his brain was on the last train to Sleepville.

He lay her down on the bed and watched her honey
blondeness spill over pristine, white sheets he was about to dirty with his smoke-marked body and grimy hair. But he no longer cared about keeping this pure and sterile. Kinsey wanted this. She wanted the sweat, the calluses, the guy who could give it to her as hard as she needed. Maybe it wasn’t the same as wanting
him
, the man behind the billboard, but he’d take it because he was desperate for her. He shucked his jeans, and of its own volition, his hand went to his cock because damn, it needed attention. Was weeping for it.

From his pocket, he pulled a condom, tore the wrapper, and positioned it over the tip of his dick. It was so sensitive to the touch that he closed his eyes a moment.

“You planning to keep this a solo operation, Luke?”

His eyes snapped open. “Just doing a before check. I’ve a feeling you’re going to work me so hard my dick won’t be recognizable after you’ve gotten through with me.”

A flash of mischief tugged at her mouth. She removed the condom from his hand and placed it on the nightstand.

“Kinsey, I won’t—”

“Me, neither. But I’d like to touch you skin to skin, first.” Her slender hand captured him and squeezed. “Is that okay?”

If it wasn’t, what would that say? That he couldn’t take a little stroking and fisting and—Jesus H. Macy, she licked the underside of his shaft and his balls went into nuclear meltdown.

“’S fine,” he managed to choke out.

She continued with teasing licks and rougher
strokes, perfectly timed to bring him close and then haul him back from the brink. Finally, he’d had enough and he drew back. There was no way he was getting off outside rather than in.

“Time to do this my way, sweetheart.”

He sheathed himself, and covering his body with hers, settled between her beautiful thighs. One thrust, maybe two would be all it would take to send them both over—and yeah, she would be coming and screaming his name again—but he liked the leisurely way they were going about this. He also liked the vulnerable look that came over her as he notched his cock at her slick opening.

“Kinsey, you are all woman.”

A soft sound left her throat, a whimper of appreciation for
his
appreciation of her and her many parts. Strong, soft, ballsy, tender. The complete package, and any guy would be lucky to be in this position.

He rolled on his back, and in one fluid movement, pulled her down on his aching shaft.

Or in this position.

She had no witty comeback, and he was done with the back-and-forth that had characterized their relationship so far. In this bed, it was just a man and a woman who wanted each other beyond all reason. As he watched her looming over him like a golden angel, all thoughts of the past and future fled, leaving this soul-melting instant of honesty. Of now. Her hazel eyes held his as she moved up and down, feeling out her pleasure, her body softening with each smooth motion.

And right then, he knew he could hold it forever, because this was a forever kind of moment.

But it seemed Kinsey had other ideas. “It’s okay, Luke. You can . . . you can let go now.”

“Did you just give me permission to come?”

In answer, she squeezed those velvet muscles around his cock. “You don’t have to take care of me. You already did.”

Gripping her hips, he stayed her sensual rock. “Baby, don’t deny it. That greedy little pussy of yours needs more of what I’ve got.”

Her mouth fell slack with desire and a low moan escaped her throat. This lusty woman of his liked a little dirty talk.

“Luke, I know you’re close.”

“And I know I can hold this for as long as I need to. I was a Marine, for Christ’s sake.” Were they really arguing about this? And was he really enjoying it?

She laughed, low and raspy. “If you were a Navy SEAL, maybe, my expectations might be higher—hey!” she squealed as he gently pinched her world-class ass to punish her insolence.

“This isn’t quid pro quo, Kinsey. You need more, I’ve got it to give.” Damn, he would give her anything. He leaned up and cupped her jaw to let her know he meant business. “My body is yours. My cock is yours. Use it to take what you need.”

Those words seemed to affect her like none he had uttered so far. Her eyes flew wide with emotion. Her lower lip trembled. Never taking her scorching gaze from him, she clutched the headboard with one hand. He gentled her toward him, and together they sought the angle that would hit her spot just right. The friction she needed at the juncture of their slick, naked
bodies. She didn’t have to do it alone. He would take care of her.

It felt like he’d been put on Earth for this very purpose.

“Luke . . . that feels so good. So . . . oh, God.”

Inclining forward, he took her inviting breast in his mouth, and the full-throated sound she made almost sent him over the edge. Hell, he hadn’t even begun to explore the mysteries of her body, all those sensitive places waiting for the right touch. What only he could give her.

“Yes, Luke. More.”

He glanced a thumb over her clit, a light pressure that sent her bucking like a rodeo queen. Giving her the more she needed. That they both needed, because what was good for her was fucking transcendent for him. The intensity ratcheted up, coiling the pressure in his balls, and damn, if she didn’t come soon—

She broke on a scream, her snug, hot channel milking him to near release.

He flipped her over and entwined his fingers with hers. Her hands were small, strong. Those tiger-striped eyes, lust-blown with all that unleashed passion, stared back at him. Begging him to let go and love her as only he could.

He drove in once. Twice. The equivalent of a flashover ignited every cell and he came with such force that starbursts exploded behind his eyelids.

Sweet Christ, that was amazing.

Several perfect moments passed and he knew that if he didn’t leave her now, he would fall asleep right there in the cradle of her body. So tempting to let that hook of hers impale itself deeper. Mustering a half
ounce of energy, he rolled off and panted his way back to an even draw.

Don’t close your eyes. Do not close your eyes.

“Should go,” he murmured into the darkness. Yep, he had closed his eyes. He needed to get up, get dressed, and get gone, because it was close to nine in the morning and Kinsey probably had stuff to do that did not involve him.

His cock twitched as gentle hands rolled off the condom and a cool sheet landed on his hot, damp skin.

“Kinsey, I . . .” But the words faded, replaced with the heavenly sensation of soft, naked woman curling up into his side.

“Sleep, Luke,” she whispered.

With barely enough consciousness left for one last thought, he said, “Your father likes me.”

Nothing from Kinsey on that, so he guessed she was out. His eyelids fell, dragged shut by the twin weights of comfort and repletion, but then he heard a growl followed by “Oh, shut up.”

If it wasn’t perfect before, it sure as hell was now.

On a featherbed of satisfaction, and with a smile cracking his face in half, Luke slipped away into a dreamless slumber.

R
esting her shoulder against the door to her bedroom, Kinsey drank in the sight of the long, lean, muscled male lying facedown across her bed. The sheet she had placed so lovingly over Luke’s tired, sexed-out body over four hours ago had fallen to reveal the spectacular curvature of his ass.

So, maybe she had pulled it down a few inches
about thirty minutes before. She was only human, and the man was the most delicious specimen of masculine perfection she had ever seen.

Touched.

Smelled.

Kinsey slipped a strand of her hair under her nose. The scent of smoke made her mouth water, conjuring up memories of Luke’s hard body moving inside her. The next time she burned toast she was going to have a freaking orgasm.

As if sensing her dirty thoughts, Luke turned over, twisting his body in the sheet. Oh my. The circus had come to town, the big-top tent at full mast.

She really should wake him up. No doubt he had things to do on the holiday. Family stuff. Important errands. She really should not be standing here, reveling in the pornographic view.

His hand slipped under the sheet and—
holy wow
—stroked his afternoon wood.

“Damn,” she purred.

His eyes flicked open and sleepy confusion gave way to sharp-eyed awareness. Didn’t move his hand, though. Just kept it there, at the ready.