Naked Love

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “Is that one reporter still calling you?”

  “The guy from the Daily Scoop?”

  “That the douchebag from the ceremony?”

  “Yeah. He somehow got my cell phone number and he’s even approached my mom at work. There’s no way in hell I’m going to give him a story, but he still keeps calling.” I curled my hands into fists; I’d made sure he’d gotten the message the last time he’d shown up in person. That dude could haul ass when he needed to and my six–feet–three–inches in his face was good motivation. “He threatened me the last phone call; told me that if I wasn’t part of the solution then he’d make it my problem and get the scoop on me, as well.”

  “You? What could he possibly have on you?” Dean asked.

  “Nothing. Even the last time I was hauled into the captain’s office for fighting in a bar was old news. But, we both know the director wouldn’t like any kind of bad publicity and it could screw up my chance at promotion.” I squinted into the sun shining into the firehouse, and counted down the six weeks until I could put in my request for a team leader position. At twenty–three, I was still junior to lots of the guys who would apply, and my chances weren’t great, but I needed to send a message that I wanted it. My interest would lead them to offer me lesser opportunities and that would make me more competitive the next time I applied. The politics of the job were not my strong point, but I was learning. Moving up in the ranks was determined by more than running into burning buildings. “All he wants is some dirt on her so he can get a byline, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.”

  I’d lived in Nashville my whole life and it didn’t take long to notice how the press constantly hounded the local celebrities. Yeah, they’d chosen a career in the public eye and it wasn’t as bad as what people talked about in Hollywood or New York, but there had to be limits. Being a fan, I’d followed Kit’s stories this past year and rooted for her to pull out of her tailspin. Her crash and burn had rivaled Britney—minus the extreme haircut—but she was clearly trying to get beyond that and all this guy wanted to do was tear her down for the price of a daily tabloid cover price.

  And truth be told, I’d saved Kit’s life and that created a bond of sorts between us—at least one that required some degree of loyalty. But, even if I didn’t feel that connection with her, I possessed a highly developed sense of self–preservation. If I gave a story, then the possibility existed that I would become the story as well—at least for a short time.

  No. Thank. You.

  I’d keep my mouth shut, figure out a way to get in touch with Kit, and get her in my bed for at least one night. As it was, I was thankful my fifteen minutes of fame was over.

  Dean’s voice interrupted my train of thought. “Are you going to tell Kit about that guy?”

  “No. Why should I? She’s got a whole team of people keeping an eye on him, I’m sure. Soon I’ll no longer be worth his interest.”

  Dean stepped into the bay and leaned up against the truck. Oh, shit. He had his serious face on and that meant I was getting a lecture about my lack of a committed relationship at the ripe old age of twenty–three. “The heat between you two was pretty clear to YouTube viewers worldwide. Maybe you want to think about trying to get beyond casual with Kit.”

  “Dean, I’m glad that you’ve got your happily–ever–after with Shannon, but that’s not gonna happen for me. I don’t want that. I’d suck at that two kids and minivan thing.” I pushed off from the truck and walked over to the open bay, gazing out onto the street. “I tried that once and it blew up in my face.”

  “Yep. I remember.” Dean pointed at his chest. “Front row seat, remember? I’m not saying you’ll live happily ever after, but what’s wrong with living in the moment? Just having fun and seeing where it goes with no restrictions in your head about the shelf–life? You plan the end before you’ve even got the condom on the first time. Maybe you just see how it goes for once.” He smiled and patted me on the back as he headed towards the residential part of the station. Now he could answer my mother truthfully when she asked him to help me “find a nice girl and settle down”.

  I turned back to my task as I mulled over what Dean had said. Have a little fun with Kit Landry? Sure thing. Over and over, and all night long.

  Anything more than casual? Not going to happen.

  But, I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. How she’d tasted, how she’d felt in my arms. Despite the difference in our size, she fit perfectly against me—like she was made to be there. We had chemistry, alright. But that was all it was or would ever be.

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Shannon Jones?”

  The voice came out of nowhere and I lurched up, banging the top of my head on the edge of the truck door. Biting back the “fuck me” that could get me written up, I straightened, turned, and found myself looking right into the eyes of the woman I’d just been obsessing over.

  Kit was standing there in my station, an expression of surprise and then concern on her face as she glanced to where I’d clonked the living shit out of myself just seconds before. She was wearing a low–cut, little blue sundress and cowboy boots and everything else was miles of bare skin and dark curls. My brain went mushy. Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I’d thought.

  Her voice was full of concern as she moved closer. “Max, are you okay? I didn’t mean to sneak up behind you.”

  I stared at her like an idiot. In person, I was reminded again of just how gorgeous she was. She walked towards me and I couldn’t move, couldn’t take my eyes off of her. If you looked up “dumbstruck” in the dictionary, you’d see my goofy–ass face pasted right next to it.

  I still hadn’t answered when she stopped in front of me. Standing on tiptoe she touched my recent injury. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Her voice was feminine, with a whiskey–edge that tied my gut up in knots. Her hand was cool on my over–heated skin and, as she moved closer, I could smell her sweet, summery, honeysuckle scent. All I wanted to do was pull her lush curves against my body, take her mouth, and find out exactly where this crazy chemistry would take us.

  I definitely had a head injury because suddenly I realized that I had her close enough to do all those things and I wasn’t doing anything about it.

  Get your shit together, Butler. Carpe the fucking diem.

  I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards me, turning us so she was backed up against the door of the fire truck. She still held her packages in her hands and I missed the feel of her touch on my body, but I could work with what I had.

  She stared up at me, her big, blue eyes wide with shock but mostly what I saw there was curiosity. She licked her lips and that was all the invitation I needed. I leaned into her, bypassing the prize of her mouth to press a kiss to her throat, just above the place where her pulse pounded against her skin. She was delicious all over, sweet and warm, and I wanted to drag her down to the floor and bury my cock inside her body for hours.

  I looked down and realized that my hands were shaking, my breath as quick as hers—and I hadn’t even kissed her yet.

  “When we fuck, it’s probably going to kill me.” It came out as a growl, as I tipped her face up to mine and wasted no more time in taking what I wanted.

  Kit didn’t play games, no pretending that she didn’t want this, too. She opened to me, meeting my tongue more than halfway when I dove inside. She was as hungry as I was and the kiss was anything but the usual finesse I used on women. There was no slow seduction here. It wasn’t in my power to play games. I was at the mercy of whatever she would give me.

  I slanted my mouth over hers, barely giving her a chance to take a breath before I went at her again like I was starving.

  And I was famished. For her. It was the craziest thing I’d ever experienced, but I wasn’t going to let a little insanity stop me. It never had before.

  I wrapped my arms around her waist, inserting my body in between her legs. The skirt of her dress rode up high on her
thighs as I pressed my hard–on against the hot cleft of her pussy. I rolled my hips against her and she dropped the bags in her hands with a thud against the concrete, weaving her fingers into my hair with a pressure that brought a little pain with the pleasure.

  I didn’t care. She could do whatever she wanted to my body as long as I got to do exactly what I was doing right now. As long as she let me do this and so much more.

  The blast of my lieutenant’s voice over the station intercom was the biggest cock block of my short life. He wasn’t looking for me, but it made Kit pull back from the kiss and that was tragic. I held on tight, brushing my lips against her, light as a feather but as intense as bungee jumping.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, pressing a soft kiss against the side of her mouth.

  “I was looking for the paramedic, Shannon Jones.” One of her hands left the spot where they were looped around my neck to point at the floor by our feet. “I’ve got the T–shirts and tickets that I promised. She told me she would be around today.”

  “You could have sent somebody else with those things. No need to come down here yourself,” I teased, taking a chance that she’d shown up in my house without her entourage because she couldn’t forget the kiss either. My gamble was rewarded by a soft laugh and an embarrassed flush on her cheeks. Busted.

  “I wanted to see you.” She pulled back, ending our kiss and replacing her smile with a frown. “To make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I know the press was following you after we...”

  “After we kissed.” I leaned back in and reminded her of what we were talking about. She sighed the minute our lips touched and I decided that the feel of her fingers in my hair was just about the best thing ever. I knew that standing here like this was insane in a busy firehouse, and it was only a miracle that we hadn’t been found yet. Time to cut to the chase. “It was a little crazy. It’s over. Thanks for asking, but that isn’t what we should be talking about right now.”

  “It isn’t?” She picked up on my tone and her lips curled up in smile. “Then what should we be talking about?”

  “Our date.”

  “Oh? Do we have a date to talk about?”

  “We will, once you say yes.”

  “I’m not supposed to be dating,” she bit her lip, her eyes losing some of their glow from a few minutes earlier. She was a grown woman, twenty–one and independent—who could tell her not to date? “The label, my management. Part of my deal was to concentrate on getting ready for the tour, writing music for the new album. Not dating.”

  Oh, the mile–wide loophole her team had left for me to plow through. I’d been getting around parental restrictions since I realized what fun girls could be when their mamas weren’t looking and how easy it was to get them out of their panties.

  “Don’t call it a date—an outing. Community outreach. No press. No pressure. Just you and me hanging out.”

  “I don’t know.”

  That wasn’t a yes, but I could hear her excuses crumbling like an old brick wall. It was time for the big guns.

  “I did save your life.”

  Kit narrowed her eyes. “What exactly is the shelf–life on you using that to your advantage?”

  I sensed that the prize was almost mine and I worked hard to repress my grin. That grin always got me in trouble. “I don’t know. Until I get what I want.”

  “And what do you want?”

  “I want you.”

  “You’re very direct.”

  “I don’t see any point in skirting the issue, since all I want is to get under yours.”

  She laughed, a small hand with black and silver fingernails clapping over her mouth to stop the giggle. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or not, especially when she wiggled out of my arms, removed her phone from a bag at her feet and held it out to me.

  “Give me your phone. Program in your number.”

  I did as she asked, wondering if she was ever going to give me that ‘yes’ I was looking for. When we were done, she bent back down and gathered her bags from the floor.

  “Okay. One not–a–date.” She walked past me towards the door to the main part of the firehouse. When she got to the door, she turned around and gave me a look that said that I was in for a wild fucking ride with this girl. “But if you want another one—you’ll have to rescue me again.”

  “Lucky for me, I have my own fire truck.”

  5

  Kit

  “I can’t believe you eat that stuff.”

  I shoved the last piece of the sugar–covered funnel cake into my mouth and licked my fingers. Max watched in slack–jawed awe as I smiled up at him. “What? You bring me to a carnival and I’m going to eat carnival food.”

  “Come to think of it, I’m not as concerned about what you’re eating as in how much you’re eating.” He raised a hand and counted off on his fingers—as if I needed reminding. “A corn dog, cotton candy, ice cream, and now a funnel cake.” He waved in the general direction of my body. “Where do you put it all?”

  I looked down and checked out my outfit—jeans, a tank top, and flip–flops. None of it screamed “country music star” and that is exactly what I wanted; a low profile. Max had called that morning and I’d taken twenty minutes to throw on some clothes and sneak out of the house. With my hair pulled up in a ponytail, a baseball hat shoved on top of my head, and only mascara and lip gloss on my face, I was not what people would be looking for, even in Music City. I couldn’t be expected to walk around like I was performing at the Grand Ole Opry all the time, could I?

  “I run three miles every day, and do yoga. I don’t think my figure suffers for it.” I waved my hand along my body, inviting comment and ogling.

  Max didn’t disappoint. His eyes followed my lead, and lingered.

  The impact of his gaze was as powerful as a touch and my body reacted with a slow spiral of desire. No part of me had forgotten our kiss yesterday and all of me wanted another chance to feel that good again. Max was like a drug and I was seriously considering getting another fix as soon as possible. But we needed to get some ground rules established first—I couldn’t afford to proceed without making sure we were on the same page. My career might depend on it.

  And I had lots of people depending on me.

  He shifted closer until he brushed against me from breast to thigh. His height forced me to look upward to meet his gaze, as his hand lightly caressed my arm with a sensual touch that created a series of shivers under my skin.

  He smiled down at me, his grin telling me that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “I think you,” his eyes moved back down my body and back up to my eyes in one long sweep, “look more beautiful today than you’ve ever looked before.”

  I stared at him, my mouth suddenly as dry as the desert, my brain cells scrambled. Now, I knew that Max was a sweet–talker and probably used it to get a new woman in his bed every night, but his look told me that he was looking at the girl and not the star and, damn, was that sexy.

  And scary.

  I could handle men looking at me as a conquest, a trophy for their arm, but I was unnerved by the way that Max treated me like something more. I knew he was a fan, but that had never been a thing between us. So, it often took a while for a guy to see me as just a regular person—if they even wanted to see me that way. Too many times I was just a meal ticket, a way to get their foot in the door to the music business or a chance to get more face time with the press by being seen with me. Many of my so–called friends and former lovers dove for cover when I detonated last year. It was a tough lesson to learn, but one I would never forget.

  But Max felt different and I was still trying to decide if this was a sign to stick around or run for it. He made me feel normal and this was unfamiliar territory for me. I was both thrilled and terrified. It was why I had agreed to go out with him in the first place—other than the crazy sexual heat between us. I had a shot at having something
normal for at least a little while and it made me want to lean into him, wrap my arms around him, and just be Kit. What a concept.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Max’s large hand tugged at my waist, pulling me closer to him. My breasts pressed against his chest, my nipples tightening in response to his touch and residual lust he’d left me with since that crazy kiss at the firehouse. I wasn’t the only one feeling the effect of proximity. Max’s cock was heavy where his jean–clad body pressed into mine and I would have given anything to pull that zipper down and see if he could deliver on the promise he made with his every touch.

  Heavy lidded with desire, his eyes darkened and I licked my lips as he lowered his head to kiss me.

  “Oooph. Sorry, buddy.” I heard the apology from whoever it was that bumped into Max, jostling him and breaking us apart before I succumbed to the sexual lobotomy that happened whenever Max was near.

  I didn’t know what I was thinking. Anybody with a cell phone could grab a photo of us kissing and I’d have my label on my ass so fast they’d break the sound barrier. This man made me sloppy.

  Max was nothing but pure, unadulterated, yummy distraction and I really couldn’t afford a distraction right now. I needed to be good. I needed to rehearse my tour and write songs and give radio and TV interviews and whatever else I was told to do until they agreed to keep me on the label.

  When he returned his gaze to mine, I cleared my throat and attempted to sound casual, to ignore the way my fingers itched to reach up and touch his hair. “Beautiful, huh? Makes me wonder why I spend money on all those stylists and make–up people if you think I look better now.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and flashed a sheepish grin. “Don’t get me wrong, you look amazing on stage.” His gaze lingered over me once again. “But I like this Kit. You look like a normal girl.”