Flirting with Fire (Hot in Chicago #1) (23 page)

His talented thumb found her nipple and rolled
over it. Delicious pleasure thrummed through her. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but it’s really hot that you did this for me.”

“I didn’t, you idiot.”

“Uh-huh.”

Then he kissed her until she forgot why she had ever done anything else her entire life except kiss him back.

K
insey.

Take-no-prisoners, sexy-as-all-get-out Kinsey.

The risk she had taken to help Alex—to help his family—knocked Luke’s world off its axis. She went out on a limb. For the Dempseys. Not just crawled out there inch by inch, checking to see if the bough could support her weight. She went full tilt and hung from the branch’s weakest twigs.

Luke knew about taking risks. It was part of his thrill-seeking makeup, a requirement of his job. But it wasn’t a requirement of Kinsey’s. So she claimed she wasn’t looking for a relationship, but surely her decision to come down on the side of the Dempseys in this counted for something. Knowing that it might mean more—that
he
might mean more—nurtured a seed of dangerous hope in Luke’s heart.

They needed privacy, so he steered her to his house, never taking his hands off her. Once in his kitchen, he pressed his body against hers, chest to chest, hip to hip. Mouth to mouth.

“Now, where were we?”

“You seemed to be under the impression that my decisions are all about you.” A shaft of moonlight
caught Kinsey’s eyes like stones shining in a stream. He could never get tired of looking into those eyes. He could never get tired of her.

Ah shit.

“I don’t care about your reasoning, Kinsey,” he lied, not ready to push her—or himself. “What you did for Alex goes a long way with me. With all of us.”

He felt like his skin had been flayed and every nerve was exposed. It had snuck up on him, this depth of feeling. One kiss at a time, one scorching touch. One woman who made his knees buckle along with his brain.

The moment sat like heavy objects between them.

“Take me to bed, Luke.” A wisp of air left her lungs and mingled with his breath. Despite his brain urging against it, his heart tried to interpret it. Disappointment that he hadn’t stepped up to admit that this meant more? Or relief that her plea took the edge off the moment?

Except it hadn’t. Not in the slightest.

He led her up the stairs by the hand, and at the bedroom door, he switched on a light that cast a muted glow over the room.

Her golden eyes sparked in recognition. “New bed?”

“New everything. Gage helped me pick out different furniture.” On his brother’s recommendation, Luke had gone with a blond-wood bedroom set, and he had to admit that the lift it gave the room lifted a weight off his chest. Maybe it was silly to put such stock in the “out with the old” ploy, but apparently the Psych 101 stuff works wonders for moving on.

She sat down on the edge of his brand-new mat
tress and jumped her fine ass up and down a few times. “Excellent choice, sir.”

He grinned. “Best eight hundred bucks plus tax I ever spent.” Moving closer, he felt a thrill course through him when she parted her thighs to bracket him. He cupped her chin and directed her up to face him. “Wanna christen it?”

She clutched a hand to her chest in pretended surprise. “You mean . . . you haven’t yet?”

“I might have thought about you last night when I was all by myself, but getting off solo is no replacement for the original. You’re the only woman I want in my bed, Kinsey. And I mean to show you how grateful I am for what you did.”

That earned him an “oh, really” tilt of her head.

He winced. “That didn’t come out right.”

“Gratitude sex. The kissing cousin of pity sex.” She placed her palm flat on his denim-clad erection. “Perhaps I should earn more of this gratitude you’re so eager to dispense.” The zipper scraped down slowly, and from beneath her lashes, she watched as his breathing picked up.

The moment—and Luke’s erection—grew larger as she inched down his boxer briefs, making a small noise of appreciation on finding him hard, huge, and ready for her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, no longer caring if she took it the wrong way. His lungs were filled with it. With her.

Peeking up with those eyes that killed him a little every time he fell into them, she grasped him in her firm grip. She might be the death of him, but what a way to go.

“No, Luke. Thank you,” she said, before she put her mouth to better uses.

Sweet, wet suction coated his cock, every stroke of her tongue a promise of the pleasure to come. There was something so very, very sexy about a strong woman with her do-me lips wrapped around him. But as much as he enjoyed the alternating soft and hard suction she was expertly applying, tonight he planned to show her just how much he appreciated her.

He drew her head away from him. “I want to take care of you, sweetheart.”

Her expression was petulant. “I’m in the middle of something here. If you absolutely must participate, then take off your shirt and jeans.”

No slouch, he did as he was told.

“Lie down, Luke.” She raised a hand to cut off the argument he had no intention of making. “Tonight, we do this my way.”

He stretched out, knowing if he dawdled she would have pushed him anyway, and waited to see how she would play it. With a look of obvious female appreciation, she surveyed his body and bit down on her lip. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Surprised it was even possible, Luke became harder at those words.

With infuriating slowness, she stripped to her underwear, something pink and lacy and feminine that pushed up her breasts and molded her ass cheeks perfectly, and then mental hypoxia set in when she straddled him. She ground her exquisite softness against his hardness.

“Let’s try this again, shall we? And this time, no interruptions.” Starting at his throat, she let her
luscious lips do the talking. She got chatty with his nipples. Loose-lipped with his abs. Downright gabby with his . . .
groan.
She took him into the sweet, wet nirvana of her mouth, and he bucked off the bed.

“Kinsey,” he moaned. “Baby . . . that’s so . . .”

Slick.

Hot.

Perfect.

He burrowed his fingers in her hair, holding her where he needed her, drawing her off for a couple of inches as he rolled his hips. That’s when she slipped a nail across one of his balls, causing him to jolt and thrust between her lips. That smart-tart mouth of hers, the one that could alternately cut him with a sharp remark and make him melt with a quirk of her lips, continued its erotic assault.

Taking him fully, her cheeks hollowed out, and her wet up-down sucks created a sensual rhythm that quickened his rampant pulse. His hips danced to her beat, begging for more. At the base of his spine, a sizzle built and spread to his balls. They felt as big as melons.

“Kinsey . . .” He should warn her. Some women needed the time, but this woman—
his
woman—knew what was coming, and best of all, she wanted it. She wanted him.

Just at the moment that his thrusts heralded his orgasm and his vision blurred, she peeked up at him with those gorgeous hazel eyes. The spark, the intelligence, everything he loved, was there. Encouraging him to let it all out because she would take care of him through the crash.

Him,
Luke Almeida, the guy who took care of ev
eryone because it was all he’d ever known and what he’d always wanted—his needs came first with this woman. That knowledge didn’t just send him over the edge, letting out a piercing groan as he gave himself over to convulsing sensation. It damn well blew his mind.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

H
ours later, Kinsey lay sated in Luke’s strong arms. The sex had felt different tonight, alternately urgent and dreamy, every kiss from Luke treasured, every plunge of his hips a gift.

She was tired, and so was he, but there was something in the air that made her think he had something to say. Waiting him out, she caressed his hard bicep and listened to his thunderous heart against her cheek. Its
th-thump
found a fast-paced rhythm with her own.

After a few minutes, he faced her, then curled a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow would have been my sister’s twenty-fifth birthday.”

Would have been. “You had another sister?”

“Mom was a meth head and she died when I was eleven. My father was in and out of our lives and my grandmother couldn’t cope with us all the time. Jenny and I—” He stopped and she rubbed his shoulder in encouragement. “We were split up because there wasn’t room for both of us. She was five years old and ended up with a family in Winnetka.”

At her querying look, he added, “Fancy North Shore suburb. Mansions, country clubs, that kind of thing. She was hit by a car while she was out playing
on the street. I thought she was safe. After all the shit she survived with Mom being so high she barely got fed to child care by drug dealers, you’d think the white-bread suburbs would be safe for a little girl.”

“Oh, Luke.” Her heart wrenched at his pain and the sobering awareness that no one is safe. Life was short and precious and could be stolen away at any moment. No wonder he defended his family like a wolf defends the pack.

“They didn’t tell me for a month. I was emotionally fragile to start with, and they were worried I’d go nuts at the funeral.” He lifted hard, blue eyes to hers. “I would have, and not much has changed. If anything happens to them . . .” He shook his head, unable to finish, but they both knew. Lord help anyone who came between Luke and his family.

That knowledge simply turned her on from head to toe.

“Anything happens to them and you’ll be there. Like you’ve always been.”

“But that can’t be all I am. As important as they are to me, I have to think about where I’m going, as well.”

Finding that balance between work and life, the needs of family and self, was so hard. And not just for a woman, she now realized. Luke had taken on the role of parent and nurturer a long time ago and let it define him. But he needed more. We all do.

“You want to be a lieutenant,” she whispered, incredibly proud of him.

He nodded. “They sorted this problem out by themselves. Well, they did it with you, which means they’re a lot more resourceful than I gave them credit
for. I’ve been trying to be parent, brother, friend, all things to them, and the stuff I wanted became buried under all that.”

She stroked his stubble-rough jaw, the intimacy of talking to him in the bed they had chosen together striking her as strange. A good strange.

“You can still be all that to them. I know that working together at the same house you feel as though you’re fulfilling a pledge to your father and Logan, but you can still be their rock. If you become a lieutenant and get transferred somewhere else, they’ll internalize everything you taught them and—”

“Still fuck up?”

“And still fuck up,” she deadpanned, then seriously, “They’ll make mistakes but maybe the next time one of them wants to trash a four-hundred-thousand-dollar car belonging to one of the city’s VIPs, they’ll think ‘What would Luke do?’ ”

He groaned. “Oh, baby, now I know they’re screwed.”

She laughed and he joined in, alternating husky chuckles with scorching kisses. She loved this side of him—the vulnerable man who sought her counsel, not because he was weak but because he was strong enough to handle her opinion.

This mattress had been chosen for its ability to facilitate good conversations after all.

“I’m sorry about what happened at city hall, Kinsey. I saw McGinnis there, touching you, laughing with you, and I lost it. You belong with me.”

It terrified her to agree, to even think it, but it was true.

“I’ll call him tomorrow, invite him to Engine 6 for
the big shindig.” His breath whispered against her lips. “Put it behind me. Behind us.”

“Good. It’s the right thing to do.”

He looked thoughtful, and again she felt that sense of something important thrumming in the space between them. “And once the party’s over, once your job of reining me in and cleaning up my house is done,” he said, sounding like he was choosing his words carefully, “you’ll be moving on to another assignment.”

“That’s usually how it works.”

“You said once you were on the lookout for other opportunities.” He paused. “Away from Chicago.”

Yes, she had said that. When she was on the business end of her breakup, her heart a pulpy mess. Before this.

Before Luke.

“I did.”

“Ever think that maybe this big, bold city might suit a woman of your talents, Kinsey?”

She thought it suited her very well, but it was more fun to disagree with him. “You mean the backwater that has only two seasons—winter and construction? The daylight robbery sales tax?”

“Makes it easy to calculate tips in restaurants. Just double the tax.”

She pooh-poohed that. “The coldest winter I’ve ever had the misfortune to live through?”

“Better than damp, foggy summers in Frisco.”

“Only tourists call it Frisco, Almeida.”

“I know. Just messin’ with you, Cali girl.” He kissed her, a soft whisper of warmth that turned fierce within the span of a heartbeat.

She smiled, liking where this was going. “I dunno. Chicago could never beat San Fran.”

“Oh yeah?” He coasted a lethal hand down her body, lighting her sensitized skin to flame with every inch claimed. “Do I need to convince you?”

“Persuasion is more my area of expertise, Almeida. And you’ll never convince this California native that suffering through a frigid, Chiberian winter is worth it.”

“Oh, I’ve got moves you’ve never seen, Taylor, and a ton of reasons why Chicago is the place to be,” he murmured. “How about the beach is never more than fifteen minutes away?”

“The eight-month winters sort of ruin it.”

His coarse palm kneaded her breast, plucking pleasure from every nerve. “Or the friendly people without that bicoastal-sized chip on their shoulder.”

“Those chips are well earned,” she said with a lusty giggle. “We’ve got a real ocean with salt water and everything.”

The attack on her hormonal and mental well-being continued with Luke’s lips grazing her jaw. Talented fingers parted her thighs and found her wet and welcome. Ready for him.

“Am I getting through to you, Kinsey?” He skimmed her plush folds with exasperating tenderness.

Needing the pressure, she ground against his hand, begging with her body what she refused to admit aloud. “Not in the slightest. You might need to . . . to take your argument up a notch.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, Luke raised his game to that next sizzling level. His fingers
pierced her, abrading her responsive flesh. She rocked against him, seeking, imploring.

The lure of his voice caught, hooked, and held her. “Then there’s that one day in March when the clouds crack open and the sun punches through like it’s escaped a cage and you can lose the heavy coat.”

“Only to have to put it back on the next day,” she countered on a moan.

“Yeah, but on this one day, everyone’s in the best mood because the worst of it is behind us.” His thumb moved in tight, sensual circles over her clit. Teasing out her pleasure. “There’ll be a few more cold days, but now we know there’s hope.”

Hope.
She hadn’t dared to think it was possible, but in Luke’s arms, it seemed fantasies, wishes, dreams could be rewritten.

“Luke . . .”

“It’s like you have to experience all the bad days to appreciate this one day all the more, you know?”

She did. Oh, God, she did.

There was a time there when she didn’t think it would get warmer. Literally, on her move here in February, and then figuratively, while she bore the pain of David’s betrayal. And then that day happened. The clouds parted, she shed the wool and lifted her face to Mr. Sun.

She knew which day, maybe not at the time, but she knew it now. On a lakeside beach, Luke Almeida wrapped her in his big, hard body and held her like she mattered.

In truth, it had been more than one day, an avalanche of moments. Spending July Fourth, her new Independence Day, getting to know each other while
trying out every bed in the mattress store. Making love under a firework-bright sky. Watching the passion he held for his family and those foster kids who should have been strangers to him. Every moment tore her apart and put her back together with how right it felt.

How right
this
felt.

She moaned her displeasure when he removed his hand, but he put her at ease as he spread her thighs and slipped inside her. Filling her completely. He plundered and dominated, and still, he talked. Seducing her body and soul, tying her to him inexorably.

“Screw the winter, baby. ’Cause I’ll always be here, keepin’ you warm.”

He continued his thrusts, deep, consuming strokes that held her in place as he let her fall. The force of her orgasm caught her by surprise, but he was right there with her, capturing her pleasure-cries with his mouth—and seizing complete ownership of her heart.