by J. H. Croix
He held me easily. In a few strides, he reached the kitchen counter and slid my hips onto it, the contrast of the cool tile against my skin merely serving to ratchet up the heat inside. He hooked a hand on the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it straight up and over my head. It sailed through the air, falling to the floor in a soft rumple.
I sat there, in nothing but my blue silk panties and a pair of socks. I felt bare as his eyes trailed down over my breasts, my nipples tightening at the feel of his gaze burning against my skin. Stepping between my knees, he cupped my breasts in his hands, teasing my tight peaks with his thumbs. “You’re so beautiful, Harlow.”
A small sound escaped from my throat as my hips arched into him. Freeing one of my breasts, he reached down, gripping my hip and tugging me closer to the edge of the counter.
Everything blurred. He dragged his tongue along my neck, over the dip in my throat, and then down to swirl around my nipples, his teeth scoring them lightly. Yanking at his shirt, I was relieved when he stepped back to reach behind his head and tug it off. I got a glimpse of his chest, all hard, muscled planes and burnished skin, with a smattering of dark hair that narrowed to a point.
Tearing his fly open, I reached into his jeans and curled my hand around his cock, almost moaning at the feel of it. He made me crazy—greedy, needy, wanting everything at once. His fingers trailed over my belly and dipped between my thighs, teasing over the wet silk.
He lifted me with ease, hooking his finger over the edge of my panties and dragging them down. I kicked them free, and then he was stepping between the cage of my knees again as I freed his cock from his briefs. His fingers teased my folds, which were drenched with desire.
I didn’t want to wait. I needed all of it—now. He buried two fingers in me, knuckle deep. I cried out, gripping his shoulders as I arched into his touch. I felt his eyes on me and wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. It was as if a magnet held my gaze to his as he fucked me slowly with his fingers.
“Let go,” he said softly.
On the heels of his command, he pressed his thumb down, rolling it over my clit. Pleasure unraveled in a burst, my channel clenching around his fingers as I cried out.
Inside of a hot second, while I was still coming down from the intensity of my climax, I heard the sound of a foil tearing. Dragging my eyes open, I found him rolling a condom on. His jeans hung low on his hips. He tugged me closer to the edge of the counter, teasing me with the head of his cock. Still reeling from my release, I was already spiraling inside. I needed to feel him inside me. I wanted it rough, hard, and fast.
Max gave it to me exactly how I wanted it. A few more teases, sliding back and forth through my drenched folds, and he murmured my name. The moment my eyes locked with his, he sank inside in one swift surge, filling me deeply.
It had been a full year since I’d had actual sex. I was tight, but the slight burn of him filling me was welcome. I needed it, the mingling of pleasure and pain.
Chapter Seven
Max
Staring at Harlow, I clung to my control. She felt better than I could’ve even imagined—hot, slick, and so tight, I almost came from simply sinking inside of her.
I wanted to watch her fly apart again. I slid one hand down to grip her hip, holding her in place. Lifting the other, I brushed her hair back from her face, savoring her shiver. Running my hand through her hair and down her spine, I cupped her sweet ass, pulling her closer. When I thought I had enough control, I drew back and sank inside of her—again and again and again.
“Touch yourself,” I murmured.
The words simply slipped out. Reaching between us, her finger slipped into her glistening folds, and I watched as she pressed over her pink, swollen clit. She cried out, her channel throbbing around me. My own release came swiftly, almost brutally. Heat twisted at the base of my spine and whipped through me, the pleasure so intense, my knees almost gave out.
My head fell into the dip of her shoulder as her body slowly curled into me. This should’ve been the point where I drew away. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. I wanted to stay right there, buried deep inside her, caught in the shimmering intimacy.
Harlow finally lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine. We were quiet for several beats. I wanted to know what she was thinking, and that was dangerous.
The following morning, I woke in the darkness. I felt Harlow’s body, warm and soft, against my side. One of her legs was hooked over mine with her head tucked into my shoulder. Last night had barely taken the edge off my need. Just now, my cock swelled at the feel of her. In my sleep, I’d wrapped an arm around her, my palm cupping her lush bottom.
None of this bothered me. No, what rattled me was the clench of my heart when I tucked her against me just before she fell asleep last night. I wasn’t a foolish man. Control wasn’t an issue for me. Usually.
I’d thought I could have a taste of her and walk away. I needed to get out of this bed before I gave in again and let the intimacy hiding within the desire stitch us tighter and tighter together.
A few hours later, when the sun was finally coming up, my email pinged on my laptop, where I’d been working at the kitchen counter. I shouldn’t have been relieved when I saw the email, but I was. I’d just been handed an excuse to leave. Nothing like an urgent business meeting to get me back on track.
Harlow came out of the bedroom as I was draining the last of my coffee. My entire body tightened at the sight of her. Her dark hair fell in a tousle and her cheeks were flushed from sleep. She wore a T-shirt and socks again, making my heart clench.
“No need to worry about ground rules,” I said, as I set my empty coffee mug in the sink.
“Oh?”
“Business emergency, so the place is all yours.”
She was quiet, her eyes searching my face. For a flash, my heart kicked abruptly against my ribs. I thought I saw disappointment in her gaze, and it nearly crushed me.
Precisely why I had to get the hell out of there.
Chapter Eight
Harlow
A year or so later
Resting a hand on my hip, I dragged my sleeve across my face and scanned my gaze over the charred trees stretching in front of me. Turning away, I strode a few steps to a fallen log, leaning over to pick up a water bottle and draining it. In the other direction, I could see Denali in the distance, the centerpiece of the Alaskan Range. We were just finishing up a controlled burn about an hour north of Willow Brook, Alaska, where I had taken a position on a hotshot crew last year.
Being a hotshot firefighter was everything I expected and more. I had a clean break from the harsh tension between my father and me, and had immersed myself in the work. This job gave me the gift of living and breathing the outdoors. I loved the wilderness; I always had. I supposed that was because I rarely got to see it when I was growing up, bouncing from one hotel to another. My childhood schedule was entirely subject to the regimen of my father’s work.
Just now, even with the scent of smoke lingering in the air and the charred section of forest we’d burned to manage a swathe of dead spruce, the beauty nearly brought me to my knees. The bright blue sky seemed endless here. The stark lines of the mountain ridges and peaks took my breath away. In another direction, wilderness stretched as far as the eye could see. It was late autumn, almost into November, with the air chilly, winter nipping to catch it in its teeth.
“Harlow!” a voice called.
Spinning around, I saw Ward Taylor, the superintendent for my crew, waving me over. We were leaving this afternoon and heading back to Willow Brook. I surmised our helicopter would be here any minute. Snagging my backpack and stuffing my water bottle into it, I slung it over my shoulder and jogged over to where Ward was waiting. The other half of our crew had flown out earlier today.
“What’s up?” I asked as soon as I slowed to a stop in front of him. I liked Ward as a boss. I completely respected him, as did the rest of our crew. I supposed he could’ve been intimidating. Yet, he had a major soft spot. Al
l you had to do was see him once with his wife Susannah and their baby son, and his intimidation factor dissolved. He adored them.
That said, he was tall, all muscle, and quite handsome. He and Susannah made a gorgeous pair. Her strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes were a contrast to his dark hair and silver eyes. Susannah had become a friend in the time I’d been in Willow Brook. At the moment, she was the only other female hotshot firefighter amongst the crews stationed at Willow Brook Fire & Rescue. She used to be on Ward’s crew, and that was when we’d become friends; although, at the time, I’d been on a different crew. After she got pregnant, she transferred over to the local crew to manage the reality of having a baby, and I shifted into her position. There were all kinds of jobs one could do as a parent, but a job as a hotshot firefighter made it challenging if only because of the travel.
As for me, I was still footloose and fancy free. My mind started to spin in painful directions, so I forced my attention back to work. Ward had yet to answer my question, as he’d been distracted by a comment from someone else. Letting my backpack slide off my shoulder to the ground, I shook my arms loose.
Ward turned back to me. “Nate just radioed in, and he’ll be out here to pick us up any minute.”
As if on cue, we heard the distinct sound of a helicopter in the distance, and in a matter of minutes, it was landing. Aside from flying all over the Alaskan skies to ferry tourists, Nate Fox delivered fire retardant and water from above during fires, and occasionally ferried our crews in and out of the backcountry. Nate stepped out once the helicopter settled on to the ground, waving as he approached.
Nate stopped beside his brother, Caleb Fox, who was a foreman on my crew. He and Caleb looked so much alike, it was amusing. Both had brown hair and brown eyes and carried themselves with rugged strength and grace. Of the two, Nate was more easygoing. Nate flashed a grin at the group in general. “You guys all ready?”
Caleb arched a brow. “Of course we are, and we’re fucking tired, so let’s get this show on the road.”
Nate merely shrugged and spun around, gesturing for us to follow. In short order, all of our gear was stowed, and Nate was easing the helicopter up into the sky. After a moment of watching the landscape roll underneath us, I leaned my head back against the seat, thinking about the hot shower to come.
There wasn’t much that could be more heavenly than a shower after a few weeks out in the backcountry. No amount of luxury could hold a candle to it. All I wanted was to get warm and clean. By no means had this been a long stint—we’d only been out for a week—but it had been grueling work. We were taking care of some controlled burns before winter hit. Quick icy dips in rivers and streams weren’t quite the same as a steaming hot shower to ease the aches born of pushing your body to its limits, day in and day out.
My life right now was such a far cry from what I had ever experienced that sometimes I didn’t know what to think. When I had time to reflect, my mind spun in a certain direction, the path a well-worn groove. Far more often than I liked to let myself contemplate, Max Channing danced along the edges of my thoughts. Well, that didn’t quite capture it. He commanded center stage of every fantasy I had. I’d had enough orgasms on account of the mere thought of that man to make me blush.
Every single one of them paled in comparison to the real thing, though, and I was fairly convinced Max had permanently ruined me for any other man. That was something, coming from me. I was prone to wishing and hoping when it came to men. Wishful should’ve been my middle name. Just now, my mind started down that path. Max would probably run screaming if he saw me now. With a mental shake, I scolded my naughty thoughts, lifted my head, and stared out at the mountains rolling underneath the helicopter.
Later that evening, I pushed through the door into the entryway, stopping by the reception and dispatch counter at Willow Brook Fire & Rescue. Maisie Steele was laughing at something, her dark curls bouncing as she shook her head. Leaning against the counter circling Maisie, Susannah arced her eyes in my direction, shrugging sheepishly.
“I’m not as good at this ‘mom’ thing as Maisie is. I swear, I can’t get Wayne to sleep through the night. I feel like a complete failure,” Susannah said.
Maisie’s gaze sobered. “You’re not a failure. Max took almost a year before he slept through the night. Carol’s easier, and I don’t really know why,” she commented, referring to her toddler and baby, respectively.
Susannah sighed, her eyes looking tired. “It’s easier when we can take turns getting up.”
“Well, Ward’s back now,” I offered.
Susannah smiled softly. “I know. I didn’t plan very well because tonight is card night.”
Maisie grinned. “I think you should skip tonight. In fact”—her gaze swung to me—“why don’t you come?”
Maisie was the dispatcher for Willow Brook Fire & Rescue, and she was becoming a friend, along with Susannah. I’d been here about a year now, and I was slowly starting to fit into the community. Sometimes I felt like I needed Social Skills Training 101. I’d never really been in one place for any length of time, so becoming part of a community like this was new for me. So was having friends. With most of my childhood spent with adults, I hadn’t had too many friends. Ivy was my best friend, and that just seemed lucky. Our friendship had formed quickly, and though we talked and texted regularly, we’d never lived in the same place.
This whole situation was brand new to me—living in one place, trying to find my own skin, so to speak, beyond the limits of the life my father had wanted for me, which I’d soundly rejected.
I belatedly realized Maisie and Susannah were patiently waiting for me to respond. “I don’t think so,” I finally said.
“Well, you need to start coming,” Maisie said firmly. “And Susannah, you need to go home and be with Ward tonight. I know how that is. I mean…” She paused, cutting her gaze to the door that led into the back of the station. “Beck is pretty awesome when he gets home.” Her words trailed off, and her cheeks flushed.
Susannah giggled, her own cheeks turning pink. Beck was Maisie’s husband and served as foreman on a different hotshot crew. I connected the dots and gathered they were talking about sex. This kind of girl talk was something I’d only ever had with Ivy.
Of late, it had been gnawing at me that I was keeping a bit of a secret from her. I didn’t suppose I had to tell her about what happened with Max, but it felt odd that she didn’t know and it had been over a year ago now. He was a close friend of Owen’s and, by extension, her. I had a habit of foolishly flinging myself into relationships, thinking everyone was the true love of my life. Ivy knew of my last breakup, which wasn’t even recent anymore. It was over two years ago, and it had been brutal. Lately, she’d been telling me I needed to stop sequestering myself. Her word, not mine. I didn’t think it was quite that, but more that I hadn’t met anyone who interested me.
Except Max.
When it came to my last relationship, I’d once again fallen into fantasy love with a man completely emotionally unavailable. Nothing new there. To add to the emotional destruction, in spite of birth control, I got pregnant and ended up having a miscarriage. The very same week I lost the baby, I learned the man I thought I loved had been sleeping around. Debasing me even further, he’d felt the need to clarify it wasn’t cheating. Not in his mind, at least, because he’d never told me we were exclusive, never told me he loved me. No, I’d just spun fantasies in my head and wished for so much more.
Ivy didn’t know about my wild one-night stand with Max. Oh, she’d asked about him, and I was still convinced she had secretly plotted to throw us together at their house. When she brought him up, I’d answered vaguely and told her he had to leave for a business trip.
Anyway, I digress. Girlfriends talking about sex and babies. It was all very bittersweet for me.
“Please say you’ll come. It’ll be fun, and it’s low-key,” Maisie said brightly. If she’d noticed that I’d zoned out for a minute or so, it didn’t sh
ow.
I looked over at her with her wild brown curls, her doe-like brown eyes, and plump cheeks with freckles scattered across them, and considered that she might be the most adorable person I’d ever seen. She was just plain cute. She insisted to me that she used to be a cranky bitch and declared she still had to work on her attitude. Here and there, I caught glimpses of her alleged attitude, but it was rare. She loved her job and adored her husband and children. Meanwhile, Beck worshipped the ground she walked on. He loved her in a way I would’ve sold my soul to have, but I’d largely figured wasn’t in the cards for me.
Maisie’s warm plea was hard to resist, no matter how hard I tried, and I felt myself nodding.
It’ll be practice. You can make friends.
Later that evening, I found myself at Maisie and Beck’s house. Aside from Maisie, there were four other women there: Amelia Masters, Lucy Phillips, Charlie Lane, and Ella Masters. Amelia and Lucy ran a construction company together. Charlie was a doctor, and Ella was an environmental researcher. At a glance, they all intimidated me, yet everyone was nice and welcoming.
I hadn’t prepared myself for the way my heart would feel as we played cards and chatted casually. While Maisie held her little boy Max on her lap, crazy things happened in my heart. Ever since my miscarriage, I often calculated how old my baby would’ve been if she’d lived. I had no idea if my baby would have been a girl, but my heart thought she was. Max was almost eighteen months, and I couldn’t help but think if I’d had my little girl, she’d be about a year older than him. Seeing Max and Carol made me long for the baby I’d lost. Carol was whisked off to bed by Beck right after I arrived, which had been a relief because seeing younger babies was almost painful sometimes.
Buckle up, Harlow. This is your life, and it’s much better than it was before. You have a job you love. You’re on your own, living in an amazing place, and you’re making friends. That’s more than most people ever have. So count your blessings and get over it.