by Blake Wilder
“Yeah. I promised to have Scott home early too.”
I pretended it didn’t bother me that he suddenly seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Had he just gotten a better offer for the night? From Lauren?
“Friday night,” he said as we stood up.
“What?”
“Get a sitter for Friday night.”
If I’d had a brain in my head, I would have said no.
Sadly…my skull was currently vacant.
“Okay.”
“It’s my turn to cook for you. Come to my place. Six o’clock.”
“Your apartment above the fire station?”
He nodded. “And, Hope.”
“Yeah?”
“Bring your new vibrator. I’m going to teach you how to use it.”
Six
Jake
I’d just finished buttoning my shirt when I heard a knock on the door. A glance at the clock on my nightstand said it was six on the dot.
Scarlett had called this morning to ask me a question about the tee-ball schedule and she’d mentioned that George and Scott were having a sleepover tonight. Dear old stepmom didn’t realize she’d made my day.
Hope was childless for the entire night and I intended to put that time to good use.
I’d jacked off in the shower while I was getting ready, hoping that would take the edge off.
I wasn’t having sex with Hope tonight.
I’d repeated those words to myself no less than twelve thousand times today.
Every minute I spent with her convinced me more and more that she was something special. Which meant I had to proceed with caution.
We were still too early in the game for me to show her what lived beneath my belt. So until I was certain she felt the same way about me, I would have to move slowly, seduce her in degrees until she wanted me badly enough, she wouldn’t run away when she saw…the big hose.
I walked down the hallway to the front door. My apartment was small, occupying about two-thirds of the second floor of the station. Across the hall from my entrance was a large storage area with most of the fire equipment and the top half of the pole I’d invited Hope to slide down the first day we’d met.
A pole she was looking at when I opened the door. “Change your mind?”
She turned around, shaking her head quickly. “Nope. I’m good.”
I stepped back so she could walk in and enjoyed the look of delight on her face when she spotted my dinner setup.
“A picnic?”
I’d pushed back the furniture in the living room and spread out a blanket. Then I’d borrowed my mom’s picnic basket to add to the effect. It looked pretty inviting, if I did say so myself.
“I considered walking with you to the park with this whole setup, but I didn’t want us to get arrested for public indecency. There’s no way I’m keeping my hands off you while we eat.”
That sweet blush that turned me on heated her cheeks.
“Jake,” she started.
“We’re in private, per your deal.” It had bothered me when she’d asked me not to kiss her or hold her hand in public. Then I’d considered everything Hope had likely heard about me from the town gossips. She hadn’t dated since George was born and she was being careful. The more I thought about that, the more I respected it.
I wished my parents had been a little—okay, a lot—more circumspect when bringing their revolving door of lovers through my childhood homes. While Dad had more wives, my mom had done her fair share of dating after the divorce, auditioning quite a few “uncles” before deciding Harold could support her the way she wanted—with a new car every few years and diamonds for Christmas.
Hope was being careful with George’s feelings and I liked that. Liked that she was such a good mom.
“And since there’s no one here…” I pressed her back against the door and kissed her the way I’d wanted to ever since the other night on her couch. It was a long, deep, hot kiss, our tongues touching, tasting, as my hands explored under her shirt.
Hope twisted her head briefly to catch her breath. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Life’s too short not to reach out and grab what you want.” I lived by those words, always had. Until her, what I’d wanted had always been merely physical, sexual.
Now I wanted a hell of a lot more.
My fingers grazed her nipples. Even covered by the lace of her bra I could tell they were hard. “You know, I was thinking…”
“Oh, yeah?” Her hands were wrapped around my neck, the position lifting her shirt just enough to give me a peek at her trim waist.
“I think we should do this picnic topless.”
She laughed, thinking I was joking.
I wasn’t.
“Jake. I’m not going to sit here and eat…” She paused.
“Fried chicken,” I supplied.
“Without a shirt on.”
“Your bra is going too.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I asked, perfectly aware that all of this was new to Hope. Her sexual experiences were shockingly few. But I’d been on the receiving end of too many heated looks from her not to know she was more than ready to expand on her knowledge.
She lifted one shoulder. “Because it’s light in here. You’d see,” she sighed, “too much.”
I gave her a wink. “That’s kind of the point.” Then I recalled the other night on the couch. The room had been dark, the only light provided by the TV. And even with that, we’d hidden all the naked parts under a blanket.
“I, um…” Hope ran her hand absentmindedly over her stomach.
“What’s holding you back?”
“I have stretch marks. And a scar. C-section.” She gave me a rueful grin as she pointed to herself. “Narrow hips.”
So she was self-conscious, more than shy. I could work with that.
I reached for the buttons on my shirt, slipping them one by one as she watched. “You’re not the only one with scars and you won’t be the only one without a shirt on.”
She bit her lower lip, her gaze glued to my chest as I continued popping buttons free. Once I was done, I slid the cotton over my shoulders and dropped the shirt to the floor.
“Wow,” she mouthed.
I worked out. Probably more than I needed to. There was a makeshift gym in a back room of the station. Lifting weights made me better at my job. Some of the equipment as well as the force it took to control the hoses required a certain level of strength.
I was the only full-time firefighter in Bootlick, Kansas. Even so, it wasn’t like I was seeing a lot of action—not even when I considered the times I ran EMT calls—so I killed a lot of down time working out.
And while I wasn’t proud of it, I had just enough vanity that I liked her response to seeing me shirtless.
“You can touch it,” I teased.
Hope rolled her eyes at me in a way I found adorable. I’d never been with a woman who got my sense of humor. I liked making Hope laugh as much as I liked turning her on.
She reached out and ran her fingers in a triangle pattern—from nipple to nipple then down to my navel. “I don’t see any scars,” she said at last, her voice breathy, hungry.
My shirt was staying off the rest of the night.
I turned my back to her, glancing over my right shoulder to point out the scar. “I was clearcutting some burned trees after a fire. One of the smaller ones fell when I was cutting down a big one. A branch caught me. Twenty-seven stitches.”
Hope ran her fingers over the scar. “Looks like it was a painful cut.”
I shrugged. “They gave me some pretty good drugs at the hospital. Happened a few years ago, so it’s fading.”
I was touched when she leaned forward, ran her fingers over it, then placed a kiss on it. I could imagine her doing the same whenever George got a boo-boo.
I twisted back around. “I showed you mine.”
Hope blew out a shaky breath, but didn’t re
sist when I lifted her shirt and pulled it off. She was wearing a sexy red lacy bra—one I hoped she’d put on just for me. Her hands flew up to cover herself, so I grasped her wrists tugging them down.
“No fair hiding.”
Her blush wasn’t just limited to her face. The pink started creeping down her neck, even tinging the tops of her breasts.
“You’re beautiful, Hope.” I’d told other women that in the past, too many to count, but none of them held a candle to Hope.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Of course, she called me on it. She had a way of reminding both of us of my reputation—well-earned—as a playboy. I was starting to wonder if some of her comments were more for her, than for me. Sometimes it felt like she was trying to find a way to either push me away or discover a means of resisting me herself.
I didn’t have a leg to stand on in that argument, so I changed the subject. “I don’t see a scar.”
She shifted back a few inches, then tugged the top of her jeans down, lower than I would have thought she’d be willing to do. There, at the base of her stomach, was a thin, pink horizontal line. “Mine’s fading too,” she said. “Just not as fast as I’d like.”
I reached out and ran my finger over it, just as she’d done with my scar. She shivered lightly.
I moved closer, placing my lips against her ear as I whispered, “I’ll kiss it later.”
My promise provoked a breathy laugh from her. “Should we eat?”
Hope was trying to distract me with food.
“We will. As soon as you’re topless.”
She frowned. “I am.”
I ran my finger under one strap of her bra. “Pretty as this is, it’s gotta go, sweetheart.”
She raised her hands again, cupping her breasts to hide them.
“Can’t suck on those sweet nipples of yours if I can’t get to them.” And then, because I was starting to understand Hope and what made her tick, I laid down a more playful card. “Chicken?”
Her eyes narrowed and her hands lowered. “No.”
“Good.” I reached around her with one hand and unsnapped her bra with an accomplished flick.
“I don’t want to think about how quickly you just did that.”
I chuckled. “Probably best if you don’t.”
Her hands had returned to the bra, holding the lace in place.
“Put your hands down by your side, Hope. I want to see you.”
Her hands were trembling slightly, but she did as I asked, no longer resisting as I slid the lace away, dropping the bra to the floor to join our shirts.
“Damn,” I muttered. Hope’s tits were full, firm, with big brown nipples. “Sweetheart, I…”
I didn’t waste the breath warning her before I lowered my head and took one of her tight nipples into my mouth, sucking hard.
Her hands flew to my hair. “Jake,” she cried. “God, that feels so good.”
I drew on that nipple a few more times before turning to give the other the same attention. Then I lifted my head and kissed her again. I couldn’t get enough of her. Her soft cries, her hands running through my hair, and then the sweet, innocent way she lowered them and touched my chest—as if she wanted to dig her nails in.
I couldn’t get enough of her, but this was going too fast. I had a game plan for tonight and if I wasn’t careful I’d fuck it up within the first ten minutes. I forced myself to step away. Hope tried to follow me, clinging to my shoulders.
“The chicken is going to be cold,” I said, my voice husky. I never lost control with a woman, but I’d never felt a pull this hard.
Hope took several deep breaths, nodding, though I could see she was struggling as much as I was to get her desires under control. “Okay.”
I took her hand and led her to the blanket. We both sat down and some of Hope’s self-consciousness returned as she tried to shield her breasts with one arm.
“Leave your hands down, Hope, or I’ll tie them behind your back.”
She grinned, the threat bouncing off her—even though I noticed she lowered her arm. “That might make it hard for me to eat.”
I shook my head. “I’d feed you. Actually, I might feed you anyway.”
She gave me a heated look that said the idea of that appealed to her. I tucked that information away for later.
Reaching into the basket, I pulled out the bucket of chicken.
“I thought you were cooking for me.”
I put a paper plate in front of both of us, placing a leg and breast on both. “Trust me. The Colonel does chicken a lot better than I do.” I continued pulling out the little tubs of slaw and beans I’d picked up at KFC. Then I cracked open a couple of Coronas, even adding the limes I’d remembered to slice up earlier.
“Classy,” she teased.
Her eyes widened when I pulled out a box of biscuits and fries. “Oh my God. This is a feast, Jake. It’s way too much food for just the two of us.”
I shrugged. “It’ll taste just as good as leftovers and I have a feeling we’re going to work up an appetite later. Might need a midnight snack.”
“Midnight, huh?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“That’s kind of late.”
“Won’t matter. You’re spending the night. I happen to know George is having a sleepover with Scott.”
“I didn’t pack my toothbrush. Or pajamas.”
I reached out, unable to resist, and ran my finger over the top of one of her tits, giving the nipple a quick pinch. “You’re not going to need pajamas. Did you remember to bring your vibrator?”
The way she snuck a quick glance at the purse she’d dropped by the door was all the answer I needed. “Good girl.”
She laughed and the two of us dug into the food. I was delighted to discover she was as big a fan of a bucket of chicken as I was. As we ate, we both indulged in lingering touches and coleslaw-flavored kisses.
“I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had KFC. Whenever we do the fast food splurge, George wants Happy Meals.” She crinkled her nose letting me know her opinion of that.
“I’ll bring a bucket by one day and we can show him the error of his ways.”
“Sounds like an awesome plan,” she said, and I liked how easily she agreed to another date.
Once we’d finished eating, Hope helped me pack up what was left and put it in the fridge.
“Want a tour of my apartment?” I asked.
“The whole place? Or just your bedroom?” She ran her hand over my chest, placing a kiss on one of my pecs letting me know which tour she preferred.
“Dammit, sweetheart. You make it really hard for me to take things slow.”
She gave me a look that said slow was the last thing on her mind. “You’re the one who insisted on a topless picnic.”
“Touché. Grab that purse of yours. We’re moving this party to the bedroom.”
I tried not to laugh at how quickly she retrieved her purse.
“In a hurry?” I teased.
“Jake, it’s been six years. What do you think?”
I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. I knew exactly what she wanted from me. Hell, I suspected it was my reputation that got my foot in the door. Hope was ready to expand her sexual repertoire and who better to reinitiate her than the town bad boy. Problem was…she didn’t know exactly who—and what—she was inviting to her bed. She wasn’t ready for that.
And then there was the second—and even bigger—problem. I couldn’t risk revealing myself to her until I was sure she’d stick around. I really liked Hope…liked her enough that I’d jerk myself off as many nights as it took until I could convince her that she and I should try to make a go of it. That we’d make a pretty good couple.
Jesus. I’d never once met a woman who actually had me thinking about a relationship without panicking and looking for the exit.
I led her straight to my bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as she walked around, taking everything in.
As she pointed to the family pictures I had scattered around the room in frames, I told who was who and how they were related. The Garrett tribe was a pretty big one—my mom one of four kids, Dad one of six. I had countless aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered around Kansas and beyond, and both sets of grandparents were alive and kicking.
Hope marveled at all of that. She was an only child and it sounded as if neither of her parents was particularly close to their siblings. And she only had one grandmother still living, though she only saw her a couple of times a year.
Finally, she looked at the bed, then back at me.
“Take off your jeans,” I said.
She clearly hadn’t expected to do that herself. I crossed my arms, waiting patiently.
“What about yours?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her tone.
I shook my head. “Later.” Much, much later. “You first.”
She bit her lower lip and I tried not to smile at how cute it was when she went shy on me. I stayed far, far away from virgins as a rule—for good reason.
When I continued to wait without moving toward her, she unfastened the button and slid the zipper down. She shimmied the panties down along with the denim, not wasting any time. Once she’d kicked off her shoes and the pants, she stood there, her eyes not quite meeting mine.
At least she wasn’t trying to cover herself up anymore.
Progress.
“Hope. Look at me.”
Her gaze lifted and I smiled. “You’re perfect.”
She rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Your turn?”
“Not yet.” I walked toward her, pulling her into my arms when I reached her, the two of us kissing like we hadn’t seen each other in a thousand years. After a few minutes, I backed her toward the bed, gently pressing her down onto the mattress.
I’d gotten smart tonight, opting to wear jeans that were a size bigger than my norm. I hoped it would conceal my hard-on without strangling it.
I moved her to the center of the bed, liking the way her red hair looked, lying across my pillow. Caging her beneath me, I resumed the kiss.
Hope’s shyness melted away as she ran her hands over my chest, my shoulders. I placed one knee between her legs, letting the denim rub against her. She was hot and ready, her body gyrating against my leg, seeking more friction, pleasure.