Seducing the Fireman (Risky Business)

by Jennifer Bonds

  And he was staring at her like she was the last slice of triple chocolate death cake on the dessert cart.

  “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” Mancini’s was half a block back and around the corner. They were officially out of range of her parents’ well-intentioned eyes. “At the age of twenty-five, I’m perfectly capable of walking myself home.”

  “Sorry, shortie. A promise is a promise.” Jax smirked and stuffed his hands in his pockets, drawing her eyes south, to a place she didn’t dare think about. “Besides, you’re only twenty-four.”

  Becca stilled, feet frozen to the ground.

  Jax slowed, turning to face her, a playful smile on his lips. “What? You didn’t think I’d forget your birthday, did you? You still have a few weeks to go. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was two years older. It hardly made him her elder. Then again, Jax had grown up fast. She’d known it even as a kid. He’d never talked about things at home, but she’d seen the way he flinched almost imperceptibly when her parents asked about his father. He hid it well, but there were rare moments when his pain shone through. No, he hadn’t needed words back then. Those soulful eyes of his said it all. And oh how she’d wanted to comfort him, to let him know he was loved.

  Once, she’d come close to doing just that, hoping to get her very first kiss from Jackson Hart. They’d been playing soccer in the small patch of grass behind the restaurant. Christopher had gone inside for a drink, leaving her alone with Jax. They were messing around, running drills like they’d done countless times before.

  God, she remembered it like it was yesterday.

  Jax was teasing her about being clumsy, and lo and behold, she’d proven him right, tripping over her own two feet, crashing into him and taking them both to the ground. He’d softened her landing with his body, and they’d had one of those swoon-worthy moments—the kind she’d seen in more rom-coms than she could count—where their eyes locked and her pulse thundered, drowning out rational thought. Common sense told her to get up, but she’d been frozen, secure in the protective embrace of the boy she wanted so desperately to see her. Then he’d brushed her hair back from her face, his gaze fixed on her lips. She’d been so sure he was going to kiss her…right up until Christopher returned. Then he’d scrambled to put as much distance between them as possible. It had been sort of sweet at the time.

  Of course, back then she’d thought everything Jax did was sweet.

  But that boy wasn’t standing in front of her now. Before her stood a grown man whose eyes shone with confidence and pride, a man who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, judging by his words back at the restaurant.

  He reached for her hand, but she dodged him.

  Clinging to her independence, she took off down the street, leaving him nipping at her heels. “And don’t call me shortie. No one’s called me that in…years.” Ten to be exact, but who was counting? “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve grown about six inches.” She shrugged. “Apparently Mancini women are late bloomers.”

  “You may have grown,” he said, falling in step beside her, “but you’ll always be a shortie next to me.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s probably true of half the population of the borough.” She looked him up and down. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of a giant.”

  When they reached her apartment building, he followed her up to the door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, planting a hand on her hip and blocking the entrance with her other arm.

  “Coming up for dessert.” He held up the carryout bag her mother had given him on the way out the door. “Your mom packed tartufo for two. It’s still your favorite, right?”

  “Keep it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m on a diet anyway.”

  “Liar. You’re perfect just the way you are.” His gaze slid over her body, assessing her from head to toe and giving her all the feels in her belly. It was clear he liked what he saw. Lust burned bright, flickering in those blue eyes like a flame greedy for oxygen. She squeezed her thighs tight, refusing to acknowledge her own desire. “Besides,” he went on, “I don’t have any spoons at my place, so if you don’t invite me up, I’ll just have to leave them both here with you.”

  Becca weighed her options. Her mom’s tartufo was the best in the borough, and if they stood around arguing about it much longer, there’d be nothing left but a soupy mess. Refusing to forgo a perfectly good dessert, she relented and opened the door for Jax to pass.

  Once inside the apartment, she moved swiftly, making quick work of the carryout package. Then she and Jax settled in at the bar, spoons in hand. Only, the way he was looking at her spoke of an entirely different kind of hunger, one she refused to consider any further before dessert.

  Instead, she dug into her ice cream.

  “Oh, my God,” she moaned, the dark chocolate coating her mouth with its silky goodness. “This is so good, I could orgasm right here.”

  Good one, Becca.

  As soon as the words were out, she regretted them, but what could she do? He seemed to have that effect on her. Every time she was near him she felt like that bumbling kid again, fifteen and clueless.

  Shit.

  The last thing she needed was for Jax to think she had sex on the brain. Especially sex with him.

  “Well, isn’t that a sad state of affairs.”

  “Excuse me?” She dropped her spoon on the counter and shot him the haughtiest look she could muster. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

  “I like dessert as much as the next guy, but if you think ice cream can make you come,” he said, his words a smoky caress, “then you’ve never had a real orgasm. I’d be happy to correct that for you any time. Just say the word.”

  Chapter Five

  Speechless. Jackson Hart had literally rendered her speechless with his nonchalant offer of an orgasm. What could she say? Nothing. That’s what. She was no blushing virgin, but the sexual encounters she’d had were nothing to write home about. Not that she’d ever admit it to Jax. Hell, she had a hard enough time admitting it to herself.

  Grappling for something witty or snarky or just plain not-stupid to say, she sat there with her mouth gaping open. He hadn’t even touched her, and yet somehow he’d managed to spark a fire in her belly, her skin growing warm under his appreciative gaze.

  He smiled, a relaxed grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, and nodded at her mostly full bowl. “You better finish that before it melts.”

  How the hell did he do that? Offer her an orgasm and then just go back to normal conversation like he’d asked about the weather? He’d done it on purpose. She was sure of it. Because now there was only one thing on her mind, and it wasn’t ice cream.

  “I’m done.” She pushed her bowl toward him, leaving the spoon on the counter. “I’m stuffed,” she lied. “Couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.” Not the way he was looking at her.

  “What? You’re going to let it go to waste?” He grabbed the bowl, cupping it in his large hand, and raised his brow. “The girl I knew always had room for dessert.”

  “I’m not that girl anymore.”

  He rolled his eyes and took a bite of her tartufo, dragging the spoon over his lips before responding. “Sure you are. You can change your name, your hair, and even your clothes—I like the T-shirt by the way, very fitting—but I’ll always know who you are underneath it all. Strip away the facade and you’re the same sweet, passionate girl who used to pack me a to-go box after Sunday dinner, and who gave Sal Russo a black eye for calling her Frankenstein at the ninth grade dance.”

  “You remember that?” she asked, covering her mouth to smother her laughter.

  “How could I forget?” He smirked. “You made me give you dance lessons afterward. My toes were never the same again. Not that I’m complaining,” he said, fixing her with a pointed stare that cut right down to her soul. “Sacrificing a few toes was a
small price to pay if it meant I got to hold you in my arms.”

  She blushed—freaking blushed—at the compliment. Shit. What was she doing? Definitely not flirting. Not with Jax. Never with Jax. After all this time, why was she still so affected by him? And how was it possible he still knew her so well? He was too…comfortable. With her family, in her kitchen, eating her dessert no less.

  “Russo had it coming,” she said, twisting her hair absently and doing her best to move the conversation back to safer territory.

  “I don’t doubt it.” He took another bite of the tartufo. “Sure you don’t want any more? Judging by the look on your face, you’re fantasizing about this ice cream.” He paused. “Or maybe you were fantasizing about that orgasm?”

  Ding, ding, ding. Door number two.

  Her face went up in flames. How did he manage to keep her completely off-balance, getting dangerously close and then backing off as if he could sense the ebb and flow of her emotions? He knew just where to push and how hard, without going too far. She’d just have to keep her guard up.

  “Frankly, I’m just trying to figure out where you put it all,” she said, pointing to the nearly empty bowl. “By my count, you ate three slices of lasagna, a half a loaf of bread, and two desserts.” She sighed. “That is so unfair. If I ate like that, I’d need a freight elevator just to get up to my apartment.”

  He shrugged. “I work out a lot.”

  That much was obvious. Heck, his muscles had muscles. And on Jax? It worked. At least that’s what her hormones seemed to think. Then again, it had been ages since she’d had a man in her apartment, so maybe that’s why her hormones were in a frenzy.

  “Last bite,” Jax said, extending the spoon so that it hovered between them. “Sure you don’t want it?”

  She eyed the last bite, her mouth watering. “Well, it is my dessert.” Finally, she leaned forward and opened her mouth as he maneuvered the spoon inside. Her eyes drifted shut as she savored the rich flavors of the ice cream, and for a moment she was completely at peace.

  Right up until Jax reached out and stroked her chin, just as he’d stroked her wrist at the restaurant. Those fingers felt too damn good on her body.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” She batted his hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Unfazed, he held up his pointer finger, revealing a smudge of dark chocolate. “You had ice cream on your chin.” Then, before she could even berate herself for being a slob, he put that finger in his mouth and sucked on it. And, sweet Jesus, if it wasn’t the most erotic thing she’d ever seen. He sucked hard, sending a torrent of blood straight to her core.

  “Sweet. Just like I knew you would be. Do you want a taste, Becca?”

  Entranced and willing herself to just say no, she nodded yes as he offered the slick finger to her.

  And then Jax’s finger was tracing her mouth, exploring her with the promise of things to come. The man didn’t fight fair. He knew her weakness—she’d always been a sucker for a good dessert—and clearly he wasn’t above using it against her. His seduction was slow, deliberate. He was teasing her. Testing her. Challenging her.

  When she could take it no more, she sucked his finger into her mouth, taking him deep. Jax wanted to torture her? To make a mockery of her pathetic love life? She’d show him. Just because she’d never had a great orgasm didn’t mean she didn’t know how to give one, how to get a man excited. Jax wanted her. Had from the first time he laid eyes on her at Stout. Ignoring the little voice in her head screaming what the hell are you doing, she massaged his finger with her tongue, circling the tip as he withdrew it from her mouth.

  “You don’t taste so bad yourself.” Why did her words sound so breathy and porn-like? At least she was in good company. Jax’s breath was coming hard and fast. Slipping from his stool, he positioned himself between her thighs, spreading them wide like it was the most natural thing in the world. It probably was, for him. Which was exactly why she needed to put a stop to this before it went too far. She needed to tell him to quit trying to seduce her. It wouldn’t work anyway. The words were on the tip of her tongue when she blurted out, “I’m a much better dancer now.”

  Well, that was awkward. And so not what she meant to say.

  “Really?” he challenged, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered, sending a shudder of anticipation down her spine. “You do realize such a bold statement is going to require a demonstration, right?”

  “No, I—”

  “Dance with me.” Ignoring her protests, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in his warmth. Holding her close, he raised their joined hands and brushed a kiss across her knuckles as he began swaying in silence, his body moving in time to a melody that existed only in his head.

  It was impossible to remember the last time she’d danced with a man, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do it with Jax. Far from it. Dancing with Jax spelled trouble. After all, wasn’t this how it all started before? If she was smart, she’d nip this thing in the bud. Stomp on his toes and send him packing.

  But he was a good dance partner, and it was actually kind of…nice.

  Following his lead, she gave herself over to the moment—it was just one harmless little dance—and enjoyed the press of his hard body against her own. His free hand slipped around her lower back, massaging the tired muscles and wearing down her defenses as he did magical things with those long fingers, kneading the tension from her with ease. He pulled her closer, the hard ridge of his erection pressed to her belly. He was long and thick, and he wanted her. The knowledge must’ve short-circuited her brain because the next thing she knew, her hips were pressed to his, their dance taking on a far more seductive edge.

  When she finally dared look up at him, she knew he meant to kiss her, knew she should stop it. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t walk away from that kiss any more than she could stop the Earth from orbiting the sun. The pull was too great, her desire spiking as her body responded feverishly to his touch.

  Stretching up on her toes, she met him halfway, their lips crashing together with barely restrained passion. Like before, his lips were soft against hers, both pliant and commanding, a stark contrast to the calloused hands that moved up her back and into her hair, twisting it without mercy as he drove the kiss deeper. His tongue skated across her lips, sending a very clear message about his intentions. When they finally pulled apart, her entire body was alive with sensation, a pleasant tingle circulating through her limbs.

  “You’re playing with fire, Becca. You have no idea how much restraint it’s taking for me not to toss you over my shoulder and take you to bed.” Jax paused, letting his words sink in. With his training, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind he could—and would—do it. He caressed her cheek, his fingers blazing a trail down the front of her shirt, coming to rest at the hollow between her breasts. Her nipples hardened in response to his touch, her chest rising and falling slowly as her body screamed for more. “But I’m not going to do that. Not until you want me to. Because when I do? It’s going to be the best damn orgasm of your life. I’m going to lick this lush little body of yours until I know every inch of it as intimately as I know my own, and I’m not going to stop until you know what it means to come undone with a real man.”

  “A real man?” Did he still think she was some silly girl, sitting around scribbling his name on her notebook? She wasn’t that person. Not anymore. And it pissed her off that even now, he insisted on treating her like a kid, incapable of making the right choices for herself. What would it take to prove she’d changed? “I’m a big girl, Jax.”

  To drive the point home, she slipped a hand between them, cupping his balls and massaging them through the soft fabric of his jeans.

  “Shortie.” The word was barely a rasp. Their eyes locked. They were riding a fine line, one it wouldn’t be easy to come back from, and they both knew it. But dammit, she wanted this. Needed it. The throbbing between her legs
had reached a fever pitch, demanding she find out what it felt like to be licked from head to toe by a strong, sexy firefighter who was quite literally the man of her dreams.

  So yeah, she was going for it. She stroked the length of his erection, her breath catching in her throat. Jax had meant it when he’d said he was a real man, and she wanted every inch of that manhood buried inside her. He captured her wrist, and one look at his eyes told her he was as close to coming unhinged as she was. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Less talking, more kissing,” she ordered, snaking a hand around his neck and pressing her mouth to his. She devoured his lips, enjoying the way they fit perfectly with her own. The hint of dark chocolate on his breath wasn’t so bad either. Kissing Jax was everything her fifteen-year-old self had imagined it would be. Sweet, passionate, toe-curling. Moving his mouth over hers with precision and confidence, he seemed to know exactly how she needed to be kissed. And apparently he was determined to deliver, waking a hunger in her belly that had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the man in front of her. Still, she needed…more.

  Drawing his lower lip into her mouth, she sucked on it mercilessly, relishing the way his hands skated over her body, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. If his touch felt this good over her clothes, she couldn’t wait to feel those fingers on her bare flesh. Parting her lips, she granted him full access to her mouth, groaning when his tongue slid along her own, parrying as if they’d done this sensual dance a thousand times before. The man was a jackass, but his tongue was heaven on earth. And she was ready to see what else he could do with it.

  Chapter Six

  Jax held Becca close, inhaling her scent, a sweet berry blend that was probably a combination of shampoo and lotion. Whatever it was, it smelled like heaven. Still, he could hardly believe she’d gone from wanting to scratch his eyes out at dinner to lighting his fire like no other woman could. How the hell had she downshifted so fast? He didn’t understand it, but he wasn’t exactly complaining.