Going Under (Wildfire Lake Book 2)

by Skye Jordan

  “Levi sucks at welding,” I remind them, making Laiyla laugh. “But if you give me a sketch of what you want it to look like, I can do it.”

  They both look at me and say, “You weld?”

  I smile. “I weld.”

  “Of course you do,” Chloe says.

  “Of course she does,” Laiyla tells Chloe, then looks at the ceiling again. “It’s also the only spot big enough to seat this entire town. And Levi wants to invite every last Wildfire resident.”

  I grin at Laiyla. “Of course he does.”

  We’re all laughing when my phone dings. My heart flips, and I lift it and read the text. Girls are finally down. Get over here.

  We all go quiet for a long moment.

  “I thought you’d pole vault off this bed when he texted,” Laiyla said. “What’s going on?”

  “Is this a bad idea?”

  Laiyla laughs. “Since when? You’ve been waiting on him for hours.”

  I sit up. “I don’t want to hurt him. He’s had enough hurt for a lifetime. He deserves someone who can commit long-term.”

  “Don’t you dare sell yourself short,” Laiyla says. “You’re one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. You’re a gift to anyone who meets you. You could be a vital gift to him.”

  “I think you’re afraid.” Chloe’s voice is gentle. “Afraid you’ll get attached, because, yeah, getting attached would be a problem. You’d have to address your fear of true intimacy. True intimacy makes you vulnerable, which I think is your kryptonite.”

  I lift a brow at her spirit-junkie talk. “What?”

  “Vulnerability, trust… They’re as hard for you as they are for me.”

  “Isn’t it hard for everyone?”

  “Not like us,” Chloe says. “Our moms and dads left us. Granted, you never knew your mom and you had an amazing father, but he died when you were barely out of your teenage years. You haven’t been committed to anything but work since. Which makes sense—who wants to go through that heartache again?”

  “Is that the real reason you’re not dating Xavier?”

  “That and the whole man-about-town thing he’s got going on. After what Bodhi did, I’m not up for active competition. I want a man who only wants me. That’s not Xavier’s way. He’s a bit like you in that regard.”

  “Well, shit.” I say, seeing things in an entirely new light. “That’s probably why Ben’s been dragging his feet.”

  “He’s obviously found a way to deal with it, or he wouldn’t be texting for a booty call.”

  “He’s really the perfect guy for friends with benefits,” Laiyla says. “He doesn’t have time to develop any more than that, and he’s already got three beautiful, healthy kids, which means he doesn’t have the whole marriage-baby time-clock thing going on.” Laiyla nudges me with her foot. “Go on.”

  Instead of texting Ben back, I just go. I changed when I got home from the party, now in cutoff shorts, a hoodie, and flip-flops, hair up in a messy bun. It’s chilly out, but not bad. When I start up the walk toward his front door, there’s still an inkling of this is a bad idea gnawing at my gut.

  Then he opens the door wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and bare feet. His hair is wet, and I can smell his clean, crisp scent from the porch. I realize I’m a little disappointed he showered. I love his natural scent.

  I step into the foyer. “Hi.”

  He closes the door and immediately wraps his arms around me, picking me up off the floor. I circle his hips with my legs and twine my arms around his neck. Then I kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. He didn’t shave in the shower, and his stubble is rough against my face, which I love.

  I have no idea where he’s carrying me, but I don’t care. Kissing him seems to fill my soul. When a door closes, I pull back and look around. “What room is this?”

  “Guest bedroom. Away from the girls.”

  The blinds are drawn, and the light is dim. Still holding on to me, he crawls onto the bed and I let the flip-flops drop from my feet. In the center, he sits back on his heels and draws me close, so I straddle his lap. I fist the back of his tee and pull it up and over his head. He immediately does the same with my hoodie. Then his hands are everywhere, warming my skin and tingling along my nerves. He kisses me deep and slow, and I swear we could be talking without words.

  “I’ve been waiting for this for-fucking-ever.”

  “I wish time would stop.”

  I realize I’ve spent my entire life underestimating the power of a kiss, because Ben has me aching. He pulls away to catch his breath and presses his lips to my forehead. I let my hands slide through his hair, so soft and thick. His shoulders are wide and muscular, and God, skin to skin like this, he feels amazing.

  Then he reaches between us, flicks the clasp on my bra, and drags it off my arms. Now my breasts pillow against his bare chest, making it hard to breathe. Other men would be finished by now. Seriously, I’ve been with guys who can’t even seem to hold onto their shit until they get their pants unzipped. But Ben acts like there’s no rush, like we have all the time in the world. The erection pressed between my legs says different.

  He tilts his head and kisses my shoulder. Then my neck. All while his hands slide up my back to my shoulders, then down to my waist.

  I push my hands into his hair and draw his head back to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything’s perfect. So perfect.” He pulls the elastic band from my hair. It falls everywhere, and he smiles as he brushes it back.

  I tilt my head, silently questioning him.

  He sighs. “I just don’t want this to end any sooner than it has to. If I only get you once, I want to draw out every second.”

  Those may be the sweetest words anyone has ever said to me. The tingle of tears bridges my nose. A sting forms in my eyes. Then, fuck, I’m not just struggling to stay afloat, I’m going under.

  I can’t do this.

  The fear is foreign and confusing. I’ve never been afraid of sex before. Never been afraid of men. But I’m damn fucking scared right now. Of this pretty, beta physician who I barely know.

  This is insane.

  Who the hell am I? I don’t recognize who I’ve become over the last seven months, or who I turn into with this man. I’m no longer the disconnected, careless sex seeker, and now I don’t know where I fit.

  So I fall back on what I know. What I’m good at. I push up on my knees and reach for the button and zipper of my shorts, then stand on the bed while Ben helps me shimmy them over my hips. As soon as they drop, his mouth goes straight between my legs. He cups my leg behind the knee, pulls my thigh over his shoulder, and licks me. I drag in a sharp breath right before he pulls my other leg out from under me. I fall on my butt, laughing. A devilish smile flashes across his face, but melts into a look so intense, I shiver.

  He bends over me, kisses my breasts, my belly, and dips his head between my legs again. The mere touch of his mouth makes me arch, then he licks and sucks and, fuck, I’m gone. I absolutely can’t form a thought. I can only experience every shard of pleasure, every unexpected shiver, all the ecstasy pulling me into a climax I didn’t see coming. It hits hard, obliterates my mind and twists my body. But I can’t catch my breath. Ben’s still exploring, his tongue drawing lazy circles around my clit, driving me insane, but too leisurely to draw another peak.

  “Ben,” I say breathless. I curl toward him and push my fingers into his hair, hold his head steady and lift my hips into his mouth. He gives me a little pressure and a quick suck that lights my brain on fire. But the orgasm I need is just out of reach. And Ben’s watching me as he eats, eyes dark and hungry. “Ben, I need it. Need it.”

  He growls and covers me with his whole mouth. The sound vibrates against me and the wet, hot pleasure of his mouth shoots me straight to the peak again. The orgasm sings through me, better than I anticipate. Satisfying me down to the bone.

  I drop heavily against the bed and stare blankly at the ceiling. My vision is blu
rred, my body limp, my breathing still quick. “Fuck.”

  Ben kisses my belly. “Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?”

  I push my hand through his hair, tilt my head to meet his eyes. “Amazing fuck.”

  A hot grin flashes across his face, then it’s gone. He works his shorts down, and when he gathers me in his arms and pulls me into his lap, our gazes lock as he pushes inside me. It’s so fucking heavenly, my eyes roll back before they close.

  “Jesus, you’re so perfect.” His voice is rough and low. “I lost count of how many times I fantasized about this very moment.”

  He really knocked me off my game with that oral sex. I should be rocking his world right now, but I’m having a hard time finding the energy.

  I rise up on my knees and gather my hair off my damp neck. The feel of him moving inside me is electric. I hold my hair up with one hand and rest the other on his shoulder as I rock my hips to take him in long full strokes. And there’s a lot of him to take. A lot of length. A lot of girth. And, God, it’s fucking delicious. I can’t remember the last time I was impressed with a cock. But Ben’s…yeah. I’m officially impressed. And now that I’ve started moving, I’ve gotten a second wind. I’m wet, and he slides easily inside me, teasing me with the sting created as he stretches me. When he withdraws, I feel a void that I immediately need to fill.

  “You’re mind-blowingly sexy.” His hands explore my body, cup my breasts, my ass. Draw my butt cheeks higher so I can take him deeper. He closes his teeth around my nipple, then sucks. When he releases, he smiles up at me. “You like that.”

  “Do I?”

  “Uh-huh.” He licks my other nipple. “You fuck me faster when I do it.”

  His teeth close down again, and pleasure takes a direct path between my legs. To assuage the ache, I do fuck him faster, right up until he lets go.

  “Ben.” I drop my head against his and whisper, “Do it again. I need to come.”

  With a growl, he complies with a little extra bite, a little stronger suck. He pulls my hips in harder and brings one hand to my jaw to tilt my head and draw my gaze back to his, then he takes my nipple between his teeth, deliberately manipulating it as I rise to orgasm. As he watches me rise. God, it’s so fucking good.

  “Ben—”

  My climax shudders through me hard. My hips buck. The pleasure is so intense, I whimper. Ben wraps his hand around the back of my neck and draws me into a deep, wet kiss. One I swear is permeated with ownership.

  I rest my forehead against his, my hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand at my neck. There’s something about this hold that makes me feel… God, I don’t even know. Desired. Wanted. Protected. Controlled.

  So much for my beta.

  And he’s still hard inside me. How does he do that? “Have you ever had multiple orgasms?” I ask in a soft, breathless voice. “Or serial, or whatever you want to call them?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I smile. “Hold on for the ride.”

  12

  Ben

  This woman makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Need with a sharp edge. Desire that grips every cell.

  She puts both hands on my shoulders and eases me back on the bed. Then she sits up and starts moving again, that sexy, uninhibited undulation of her body. And she’s so wet, so fucking sexy, she warps my brain.

  “Don’t hold back,” she says. “Leave your body to me. I’ll take good care of it.”

  I grip her thighs, and the muscles tense and flex under my hands. Her core muscles ripple. Her breasts are full, the nipples taut. Her long hair spills forward over one shoulder in a dark curtain. She couldn’t be any more beautiful, and her confidence is an unexpected turn-on.

  Within minutes, she brings me to the edge of climax. The pleasure coils every muscle in my body, and I grip her hips and watch myself lift into her. KT is a fantasy, pure and simple. Everything a man could ever want—strong, sweet, funny, smart, independent, gorgeous, and fiery hot in bed. Both intimidating and disarming.

  She’s working me like a master, watching me intently. “That’s it.”

  A hot little smile turns her mouth. She presses both hands to my chest and quickens her thrusts in short, powerful direct hits.

  “Fuck.” I drop my head back and grit my teeth around the need to express my pleasure verbally. The door is locked, but the last thing I need is the girls waking. KT rocks me right into an explosive orgasm. Fiery pleasure sears my spine and floods my pelvis. I come hard, my vision a white-hot burst of light.

  When the pleasure melts into pure satisfaction, I find my hands digging into KT’s hips, and I force my fingers to release. Her movements have slowed to that languid, sexy rock. My mind is fogged, my body both exhausted and utterly satisfied. I haven’t even caught my breath before KT’s movements stoke heat inside me again. “Jesus.”

  “Good, right?”

  “Un-fucking-fathomable.”

  “Even better now. Hotter. Slicker.” She uses both hands to pull her hair up and clasps her hands on her head without missing a beat. Damn, but she does put on a mesmerizing show. I absently wonder if she’s ever been a stripper. She moves like I imagine one would.

  My thoughts are derailed as another orgasm comes on fast and hot. Before I break, I sit up and wrap her in my arms, roll her to her back. Resting on my forearms, I thread my fingers into her hair. I kiss her, slowing everything down. I want to remember this forever. But KT isn’t having it. She wraps her thighs at my hips, crosses her feet at my back and strokes her tongue into my mouth as she lifts into me. The grind makes us both groan. I barely hold myself together until she meets me on the edge of orgasm. Until I watch the climax cloud her eyes and wash across her face. Then I let go, savoring the pure ecstasy surging through my entire body.

  It takes forever to catch my breath. Takes all the strength I have left to ease out of KT until I rest my head on her belly. Her fingers sift through my hair, and I float on the euphoria. God, it’s been so long. And not just for the amazing sex, but the connection to another soul.

  “What’s your real name?” It’s something that’s been nagging at me.

  She heaves a sigh. I expect her to avoid the question, but she says, “Katrina Tiffany.”

  There is so much irony in her tone, I lift my head and look at her. “That’s beautiful. Why do you go by KT?”

  “Because Katrina Tiffany is frilly and fluffy, and I’m a tomboy. Always have been. The name has never suited me.”

  “Did your dad think up the nickname?”

  “No, I did. I think I was maybe eight.”

  With my chin on her stomach, I smile. “I guess Jazz was right on the money when she named you Kat. It fits you perfectly. Do you mind if I call you Kat? It’s so much easier to say than KT, especially in bed.”

  She laughs and strokes a finger across my lower lip. “If it will make this happen again, then absolutely.” I’m still stunned by the idea she’s open to an encore when she says, “If I don’t leave now, I’ll fall asleep. I’d be a little hard to explain to your girls.”

  When she doesn’t move, I ask, “Do you want to leave?”

  Her gaze returns to mine. “No.”

  I lift my arm and tap the face of my watch.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Setting an alarm.” I lower my arm and pull her tight against me. “If we fall asleep, I’ll still get you out of here before the girls wake up.”

  She laughs, soft and sweet. Then she kisses me. And that kiss turns into a sexy make-out session, before Kat—yeah, I really like that name—rolls her stunningly naked body on top of me and smiles. “Maybe sleep is overrated.”

  13

  KT

  I lift the damp towel from the tubing I just soldered and grab the metal to replace the fitting. But it’s still hot, and pain burns up my fingers.

  “Fuck.” The sting hooks into the annoyance that’s been building since my night with Ben a week ago, and anger spikes. I shake out my hand. “Fuck,
fuck, fuck.”

  The music is playing too loud for anyone to hear me. It’s raining like crazy today, so I’m working in the market, overhauling the cooling systems for the refrigerated drink-display cases. I’m not familiar with these, so I’ve had to research the manufacturer, beg for manuals, and scrounge for parts. An annoying and tedious process, only made worse by the fact that half of Levi’s construction crew is also working in the space.

  I can’t hear myself think, but maybe that’s a good thing, because if I started to think, I’d immediately get bent out of shape by the fact that Ben and I haven’t spoken since that night in his bed a fucking week ago. And Violet’s schoolwork has been keeping her at home more, so I don’t have my entertaining little sidekick either.

  I’m fully aware that our lack of communication is at least half my fault. I’m just as capable of texting or calling as he is, but it goes against all the rules I’ve put in place over the last ten years. Rules I’m starting to think might not fit me anymore. I feel like I’ve got an inner battle raging twenty-four seven.

  To make it all worse, I’m annoyed that I’m annoyed. I shouldn’t give a shit about not talking to Ben. I’ve rarely given a hookup a second thought, let alone wanted to see them again. And when the hell did I start wanting to have a kid around me all the time?

  It’s all pissing me off. Instead of making things better, our hookup only messed with my head. I have no idea what’s happening with Ben or the kids. I don’t know when he’s working or when he’s home. I don’t know if he’s found a nanny or another babysitter. I don’t know how he’s managing to get the girls back and forth to school or how they’re settling in or when he finds the time to help them with their homework.

  “And I shouldn’t fucking care,” I tell myself as I blow on my fingers and reach for the tubing again, testing the heat before I grab hold.

  But my mind strays to the way Ben woke me from our night so I could leave before the girls got up. The way his big body was curled around me from behind, erection against my ass, chest against my back, legs tangled. He was kissing my shoulder when I floated to consciousness after hours of sex just the way I like it—sweaty, intense, and raw.