Truth or Dare

by Anne Conley

  But that didn’t stop the memories of Annette’s creamy thighs from slamming into his vision, only to have him shove them out again. He needed to focus on something other than her. She wasn’t worth it. She’d said as much. Even so, he had delivered her paintings to Drake’s gallery this morning, at her request. He’d told her he would, and he had, while Drake didn’t seem happy to see them. He tried to put it out of his mind and focus on work, but it was difficult.

  He was an ass for leaving her there alone, but whatever. He told himself she deserved it, even though he realized those thoughts were false. His own pride had gotten in the way. He wanted to stay but told himself he was listening to her wishes. Doing what she wanted.

  All the guys were waiting in the main room, sharing the seating area meant for a third of them. Jude found a place in the back to stand and listen.

  Chief Marquez scowled at everybody, his usual countenance.

  “I suppose you all heard, but in case you’re living under a rock …” He pointedly looked at Jude, who raised his eyebrows back. He’d heard. No rocks here. “The bond election didn’t pass. Even though the City Council approved the new firehouse, the city won’t pay for it with a tax raise, so we’ll have to raise funds as a show of good faith and try again next year. That lawsuit really ate up all our stores and put us in the hole. Bad.” He motioned around him at the ancient fire station. “And I’ll be depending on you guys to patch up the necessities here.” He rested a foot on the coffee table in front of him and propped his elbow on the knee. “My wife, Jules, is planning a visual representation of the flaws in this place to show for extra donations. Any ideas welcomed. Floor’s open.”

  Zane was the first to speak. “How about a calendar? I know not everyone would want to participate, but I’m game, and I’m sure a few others will be too.” Murmurs sounded all around, some of approval, others vehemently against it. That would be the case with anything. “Hey, it’s better than a bachelor auction.”

  That was true, and Jude sorely wished he and Annette had worked out. A calendar was better than an auction, which he was surprised Hollywood wasn’t proposing. If they did the auction thing, there wasn’t any way he’d be able to get out of it, and he didn’t really like the idea of being ogled like a slab of meat for the horny old women of the town to bid on.

  “Joey? One of your sisters is a photographer, right?”

  “What about a breakfast with Santa thing? Someone could dress up as Santa Claus and we could charge for tickets?” one guy suggested.

  That suggestion was met with more approval than the calendar.

  “A skills competition. Have the civilians run a firefighter obstacle course or give lessons or something. That would not only get the public involved in our day-to-day operations but also sort of change perceptions that we don’t just sit around and work out all the time? We could charge for the lessons, as well as the obstacle course or whatever,” said another guy in the back.

  As they brainstormed, Jude felt a sense of excitement he hadn’t had in a while. Things were looking up for the firehouse, even if the bond hadn’t passed. Somehow, this group of guys would make things work.

  When the alarm rang, everyone jumped to gear up, a certain lightness to their step.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Annette knew it had been too easy. As she humped her canvases from Drake’s gallery to the square downtown, she knew she needed to sell some soon or she’d be out of money. Period. Drake had pulled the show out from under her feet because she hadn’t slept with him. Of course, he hadn’t said as much, but his words were clear.

  “I don’t think our relationship is conducive to my showing your work anymore. You can take your things and leave now.” He’d turned his back on her as she stacked the wrapped canvases he hadn’t even looked at and tried to carry them out.

  Drake hadn’t even offered to help, so intent on her perceived slight that he’d brushed her off completely.

  At least he’d loaned her a dolly to get the canvases home. Granted, he’d shoved it at her, nearly making her drop her things to avoid being run over by it, but it was something.

  Annette was angry about it all and tried not to show it, but she couldn’t be gentle with the artwork that had flowed from her fingers so willingly after spending time with Jude. The colors and images that had sprung to mind after their lovemaking was only a bad memory now.

  Because it was over, and it had ruined her chances here.

  Of course, there were a few other galleries, but if Drake was as petty as he seemed, she wouldn’t have a chance at them. He’d probably spread rumors about her that wouldn’t make anyone want to look at her twice.

  She let out a heavy sigh as she tried to display her canvases in an appealing manner around a folding table she’d gotten from her car, but all she saw was Jude. In the pictures of his hands, his body, the flames, his amber eyes.

  Annette briefly entertained the question of what he was doing now, then hated herself for it. She couldn’t grow as an artist on her own with her mind totally wrapped around sex with Jude. She’d made a huge mistake sleeping with him, and the cancelled show was just the start.

  Now she had a ton of pictures of him to sell—constant reminders of their nights together, her epic stupidity, her lack of resolve.

  Her horniness.

  As a young couple walked up, hand in hand, she watched them. She did not want that. She didn’t want the loving glances, the thumb rubbing circles over the back of her hand, the way he spoke to her when he told her she could have a picture for their new house if she wanted.

  “It’s our honeymoon.” The woman giggled. “We’re shopping for some artwork for our new home.”

  Annette pasted on a smile she hoped looked friendly and named a price that was far shy of what she really wanted for the pictures. She reminded herself it would go toward paying her rent this month and it would be one less canvas to struggle back home with and look at until it sold.

  Reminding her of her ill-fated tryst.

  The day continued like that, with her pretending to be happy to see people and sell them her artwork at far less than she thought it was worth. But. She was feeding herself, and that’s what she’d come here to do, right?

  The drive to the fire was an exercise in focus, one which Jude excelled in. Nobody spoke as they all ran through what was necessary to do the job they were trained for. Some had their little OCD patterns to get through on the ride, to get their head in the right place. Others, like Jude, just focused on some point faraway as the sirens blared and lights flashed, a run-down of worst-case scenarios and how to tackle them, in an effort to prepare.

  When they arrived, the men piled off the truck with the Chief yelling assignments. As if they weren’t wearing sixty pounds of equipment, they sprang into action. Jude was partnered with Zane to go through the building, an office building on the outside of town.

  They worked well together, focused on the job and their partner, and they did what they could.

  It was hairy. No doubt about it.

  Jude walked through the scene, the fire already having been extinguished to make sure there were no smoldering embers ready to re-ignite as soon as they drove away. It had been in an office building that was, thankfully, closed for the night. It was odd, since these types of fires would usually start in a breakroom if someone left a coffee pot on, or something like that.

  This one had started in a meeting room.

  A bare room, with threadbare Berber carpet, nothing on the walls, and rows of plastic chairs now melted into colorful puddles. Jude looked around for little red, glowing dots but found none. Still, it was obvious this was where the fire started. Judging by the burns on the carpeting in the center of the room, it had been started intentionally.

  They were trained to look for burns on the lowest part, as that showed the origin of the fire.
Fire spread upward and outward but rarely downward. So this ash-white burn spot on the carpet in the middle of a nearly empty room was most likely the origin.

  Aside from actual loss of life or injury, arson was a firefighter’s worst enemy. The primary goal of a firefighter being to prevent fires from happening, arsonists just flaunted the fact they could start fires on a whim, losing lives, possessions, and endangering all sorts of things.

  It was a slap in the face.

  Here, the fire clearly showed what was probably an accelerant fire, burning at a high temperature. The scent of gasoline hung in the air. His eyes traced a faint coiling line to the perimeter of the room where a plug, charred and burnt, evidenced the ignition point.

  Someone had plugged in something that set off a spark, exploding gasoline and purposely setting a fire that could have hurt or killed somebody.

  Jude’s blood ran cold at the thought.

  He spoke through his mouthpiece to Logan, who was a couple of rooms over. “When is the arson investigator getting here?”

  “As soon as it’s clear.”

  “Well, make sure he checks out the room in the corner of the southwest quadrant.” Disgusted, Jude left, his mind swirling with anger. He could feel himself flying off the handle and needed grounding.

  Unfortunately, his cabin was out of the question, not with the memories of Annette so fresh, mixing up everything he thought he knew.

  Annette.

  Thoughts of her filled him with a visceral need, something intangible he couldn’t explain. He was suddenly filled with a restlessness, the same feeling he’d felt earlier today. He wanted to do something but didn’t know what would make him better, and all he could think of suddenly was Annette.

  Maybe that would ground him, remind him of what he wanted and didn’t want. What he believed in. What this asshole arsonist had just shit all over.

  Chapter Eighteen

  That night, Annette was home in her room, the pictures leaning against the wall, when a knock at her door startled her.

  She hesitated to answer it since she wasn’t expecting anyone, but one look through her peephole had her leaning her forehead on the door and letting out a sigh. It seemed she had done an awful lot of that today. It made her feel weak. So did the sudden butterflies flitting around in her stomach at the sight of Jude in the hallway outside her door.

  Annette opened the door slowly, not really wanting to admit she was glad to see him. He practically buzzed into her room, pressing past her into the small space. She hadn’t invited him in, but he was in another world, a frenetic energy pulsating off of him in waves. And the smell of his shower gel made her a little stupid.

  His hair was wet, with ice crystals forming on the tips of it. Had he walked here from somewhere?

  Jude’s eyes were wild. They floated from surface to surface in her room before finally landing on her.

  “What’s up?” she finally managed to ask, weakly. She felt stupid. Her body wanted him, now, but her mind was insistent they talk about things first. But she didn’t know what she needed to talk to him about.

  “I just came off a job.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends before lowering himself to her bed, uninvited. “A shit job.”

  Did that mean someone had died? Her heart went out to him, understanding that every time they answered a call, they were trying to save lives and weren’t always able to. That had to be hard on a person’s psyche.

  She walked over to him, planting herself between his legs. His hands clutched at her hips, pulling her to him, and he buried his face in her belly as her hands went to his hair.

  “I just need to feel a connection to something. Something alive, besides flames.” His words were garbled, but she understood. They shared a connection. Even if it was only physical, the evidence was clear. Her thoughts, her art, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. There was definitely a connection between them.

  One she wasn’t about to sever right now. She couldn’t stand seeing his confident strength whittled away to this pain. She would let him use her to feel. Tonight.

  Extricating herself from his grasp, Annette took a step backward and pulled her shirt off, an offering.

  His hungry gaze followed her movements, then something shifted. As if her gesture was all the encouragement he needed, he snapped into motion.

  Launching himself off the bed, Jude pinned her to the wall, his mouth devouring hers. She tried to give as good as she got, but he was too fierce, too hungry. Eventually, she gave up and just let herself go, giving into the sensations as he took from her what he needed.

  His hands and mouth were everywhere, pushing down her pants, tugging at his jeans. A condom came from nowhere, and he rolled it on while he kissed her neck, palming a breast. He rocked against her as he moved, trying to fulfill with his body what his hands were too busy to do.

  Then his hands went under her ass, and he lifted her against the wall before plunging himself inside her with a growl.

  Annette gasped at the intrusion, even though she was ready for it. Her legs automatically went around his lean hips as he surged into her over and over again.

  It was brutal. It was fast. It was hard.

  And she loved it.

  She tugged at his hair as he bit at her lips, their joining frantic. She tried to lift her legs higher, even as he stroked spots inside her she didn’t know were there. With a grunt, he lurched backward and spun her around to fall on the bed, managing to hold himself over her without crushing her.

  Lifting one leg, he plunged inside her again. All the anger she had felt at Jude since she’d pushed him away at the cabin melted away at the crazed look in his eyes as he watched where they were joined. His cheeks were ruddy with passion, and his eyes had softened a bit with lust, but she still wanted more.

  “Harder, Jude,” she moaned, and the words did something else to him. Another shift, and he met her eyes before kissing her ankle and resting it on his shoulder.

  Then he obliged her.

  Jude pounded in and out of her, rocking his body with each thrust. His pelvis hit her clit with a torturous bliss with each stroke, and she fell apart with his name on her lips.

  Two thrusts later, his teeth were clenched as his eyes fell closed to his own release before he took a step back, separating them.

  He was still fully dressed, his jeans around his thighs, the t-shirt he wore still clinging to his sweaty body.

  Yet, Annette was naked and sated, sprawled out for his pleasure.

  But was it? He didn’t look any less wound up than when he’d arrived.

  Her insides twisted, even though they still throbbed from her climax. His eyes were filled with something else now. Not lust. Not hope.

  Nope. They were filled with regret.

  He regretted it, even as she was starting to come around. The regret punched her twisted insides, and she couldn’t say a word.

  She watched him, biting her lip and seeing herself curl up into a ball, as if she were outside herself. She was trying to protect herself, hide her nudity from a man who knew every inch of her body. A futile attempt at it, she was sure. Even as it happened, he disposed of the condom in her trash can and zipped himself up.

  She’d never been a booty call before.

  Annette realized she didn’t like it much.

  It only reiterated for her why she didn’t want entanglements. She needed something to feed her and pay her rent, not give her orgasms and emotional turmoil.

  Jude sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her paintings. His eyes were glazed, dull, as if he didn’t really see them. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to see they were all of him, or aspects of him, but he wasn’t saying much. Annette just wished he would leave and let her wallow in her self-pity a while longer.

  “I’m sorry. That didn’t go exact
ly how I wanted it to,” he muttered before he put his face in his hands.

  “Exactly what every girl wants to hear right after sex,” she answered drily, pulling her quilt up around her, trying to hide herself more.

  “I want this between us, Annette.” He motioned at the air between the two of them, and Annette cursed the unfurling in her tummy. “I know you don’t, and I’m trying to figure out how we can both be happy with it. I swear to God, what we have isn’t just physical. I needed you tonight, and you were here for me. That says something I needed to hear.” His eyes focused on hers, and golden intensity shone from them. “Even if you aren’t saying the words.” He touched her ankle, wrapping his hand around it, making her seem delicate. “You’re mine, and this just proved it.”

  Annette wasn’t going to tell him she needed him to prove anything. After Drake’s words and her desperation on the square to make enough money to stay here, she needed the connection she felt with Jude, even if she hated that she needed it.

  He dropped his face into his hands again.

  “I get that you’re trying to do something else, and I’m somehow getting in your way. I get it, but I don’t like it. I want to see if we can compromise, but I don’t know how.” He was talking into his hands, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were tortured, and a pang hit her.

  She hated all of this. She didn’t want to be so emotional over him, but she didn’t want to be used either.

  “Meet me for lunch tomorrow? Bring your portfolio. I want to try to make this right between us, and I’ll try not to fuck it up this time.” His smile was wry, if not a little bashful. She saw him. Jude was a wild child who was desperate to get on her good side, knowing he had messed up and thinking he’d messed up more.

  Without a second thought, Annette nodded. Her body did what it wanted to around Jude. That much was clear. She had just agreed to see him again, even after she told herself she didn’t want this.