Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  Chance lifted his head. “If that’s what you want.”

  What she wanted was for Chance to get on with it. He was going to kill her with foreplay. His hands hadn’t stopped moving, his fingers gliding lower and lower around her butt until—

  Okay, no more talking. She whipped off her tank top, smiling at the slackening of his jaw, the heat in his eyes as they took their fill. Wrapping her arms around him, Jane reclaimed his mouth with her own. She supped on his lips, fed him kiss after kiss, until even being plastered chest to chest, hip to hip, was no longer enough.

  Gripping the hem of his shirt, she tugged it up, scratching his stomach in her haste. She leaned back, needing to catch her breath, wanting to examine the skin she’d exposed. She ran her fingertips over his chest, the muscles hard beneath her touch, the light matting of hair soft as baby’s down.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said.

  His cheeks flushed. “You don’t say that to a guy. Call me sexy or hot or something. You’re the one who’s beautiful.”

  Flicking her thumbs over the flat discs of his nipples, she trailed a row of kisses down his chest. “You are hot and sexy. But that’s not what I want to call you.”

  His chest heaved beneath her mouth. “Baby, you keep doing that, you can call me anything you want.”

  Lips curving, she trailed lower.

  “Changed my mind.” He threaded his hands in her hair and tugged her head back. “Go any lower and I’m going to blow. Need you now.”

  He rolled, taking her with him until her back pressed into the couch cushions. Kneeling above her, Chance attacked her pants. His fingers fumbled. “Why are there so many buttons?”

  “They’re sailor pants,” she explained. “Two rows of... hey!”

  “Well, that’s one less,” he muttered, tugging at the fabric again.

  She put her hands over his. “I’ll get mine, you get yours. Deal?” She liked those pants. She didn’t want to spend her evening sewing buttons back on.

  Chance grinned and climbed to his feet. “Deal.” His hands flew to his fly. “But leave your underwear on. Those are mine to take off. I’ve been fantasizing about peeling your panties down your long legs for a couple of weeks.”

  “Have you now?” Jane shimmied out of her pants. Resting her head against the arm of the couch, she bit back a moan at the view in front of her. Six foot two inches of packed muscle. After nine years, he seemed bigger. Everywhere.

  Settling on top of her, Chance nuzzled the crook of her neck. He scraped his teeth where her neck met her shoulder. “You taste good. You always did. Like my grandma’s Christmas spice cookies.”

  Jane hadn’t heard that before. “Like her pfeffernuss?”

  “I don’t remember the name.” He traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue. “I just remember the taste. Just like you.”

  Arching, she tried to increase the contact. She was burning up from the inside out, as if she had a pool of molten iron at her core. Her lace bra chafed against the tips of her breasts.

  It also chafed Chance’s chest. He groaned, the sound low, guttural. “I hope you’re ready, baby. It’s been too damn many years, and I can’t wait a minute more.”

  Not bothering with the hooks, Chance slid his thumbs under her bra and pulled it off over her head. Her panties joined the bra on the floor. Prowling over her, he took her mouth in a deep kiss.

  “Tell me that Band-Aid box has condoms in it.”

  “No, it doesn’t have condoms,” she said. “It’s a first aid kit, not a booty-call pack.”

  He swore. “If we don’t take care of this soon, I’m going to need some first aid.”

  “Bathroom.” She pushed at his shoulders. “In the cabinet behind the mirror.”

  His lips bruised hers, took her breath away. “Too far.” He stilled. “Wait. My sister.”

  Jane’s hands stopped roaming across his back. “What? Be careful what you say next. It could be a mood killer.”

  Reaching for his jeans, he tugged out his wallet. “Katie gave me a celebration condom when my legal separation came through. She’s a little twisted that way. I put it in my wallet and forgot about it.”

  Jane helped him sheath himself. “Thank God for twisted sisters.”

  He laughed, and it was like a bottle of fizzy champagne burst in her chest. She remembered this. How much fun she could have in bed. She’d never laughed with another partner the way she had with Chance.

  And then the time for laughing was over. His gaze turned scorching, every inch of her skin that it touched coming alive. His lips tugged at her own as he settled between her thighs. Pressing in, he swallowed her gasp.

  The stretch felt so good. He filled her like no other man. Opening her thighs wider, she lifted her hips, drew him all the way in. It was a perfect moment. Chance buried deep, his warm body a comforting weight. “Heaven,” he whispered in her ear.

  Her heart soared, and she needed some way to keep herself grounded. This is Chance, the man who broke your heart. Don’t make more out of this than it is. The reminder didn’t work. That stupid organ still leapt around like a deranged rabbit in her chest.

  His body moved over hers, lighting up all her nerve endings. She had no problem living in the moment, accepting just the physical pleasure he gave her. But a little part of her whispered, This is Chance. The man you thought you’d be with forever.

  It was easier than she’d thought it would be telling that part of herself to shut up. The man above her had learned a lot between the sheets, and she melted around him. Chance 2.0 was a new and improved lover. He made it easy to separate the moment from her memories.

  But when he grabbed her hips and moaned, “I missed you,” she believed him.

  * * *

  Chance knew he had a lot to make up to Jane for, and he intended to start repaying his debt one orgasm at a time. But it was hard to keep his head in the game. His hips had a mind of their own, and sweat rolled down his back at the restraint it took to keep from pounding away to a quick finish.

  So much had changed. He’d changed, and so had Jane. This wasn’t the awkward fumblings of two teenagers.

  She’d been his first. Chance had thought he’d understood the mysteries of the universe after that first time he’d been with a woman. Cocky-ass punk that he’d been. But so much time had passed that this should have felt like a first time with a new woman.

  But it felt like coming home.

  Shifting his hips, he slowed down and took her lips. He couldn’t get enough of them. They parted so sweetly for him, accepted what he gave her. He tangled his tongue with hers, swallowed up her breathy moans. When she lifted her hips, tried to speed things up, he resisted and slowed down even further.

  It was killing him. She was killing him. But it was the sweetest death he could imagine.

  “Please.” She tugged his head away from her mouth. “Please.”

  A drop of his sweat fell to her collarbone, and he licked it away. “Please what, baby?”

  “Faster. Now.” Her eyes were closed and a flush swept every part of her body that he could see. He reared back onto his knees. And he could see a lot.

  “Not yet.” Jesus, how many times had he thought of Jane, what he’d left behind, the warm slide of her body against his? Now that he was actually here, like hell he’d rush it.

  She scraped her nails down his spine, his body instinctively arching away from each delicious inch she clawed. His eyelids drooped. Patience. He didn’t know whether the advice was for himself or for Jane. Curling his hands into fists beside her head, he grasped for control. He was on the razor’s edge, but this was Jane, and he was going to make it great.

  She moved, did something with her body that had his eyes rolling back in his head. Any idea of control evaporated like water from a garden hose on a five-alarm fire.

  His body bucked, pistoned. Mindless, he threaded his fingers in her hair and held tight, his body seeking its release. The throaty little mewling noises Jane made in his ear
told Chance that she was right there with him. His muscles coiled tighter and tighter, his breathing became labored. His body screamed with need.

  Wait, wait, wait, he chanted to himself. Wait for his Janey-girl. She threw her head back and moaned. For a split-second of time, Chance’s world stopped. He wanted to frame this moment, capture her bliss as she came apart in his arms. Mouth open, eyes closed, she was a picture of beauty. Her abandon was stunning, and it humbled him.

  But his body wouldn’t wait. The pressure grew too great. With a roar, he tipped over the edge and joined her in surrender.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This. Is. Awesome.” Wonder filled the young photography student’s voice as she looked at the group of firemen huddled in the corner of the station. She leaned over to Jane. “I almost feel like I should pay you for this.” This being taking shots of ten of the station’s hottest bachelors. “Almost.”

  Jane smiled wryly. The teacher at the community college swore Sammie was his top student and would have no problem providing professional quality head shots for the fundraiser’s website. The girl didn’t dress to impress, wearing stretchy yoga pants and flip-flops. Hopefully she could make the bachelors look better put together than she did.

  Which shouldn’t be difficult. Jane turned toward the men who stood joking around with each other as they waited to be photographed. They rippled with muscles, their blue T-shirts, with the Pineville FD logo over their left breast, stretched taut. Every lovely shade of skin was represented, from vanilla to mocha to dark chocolate. Pineville FD was the twenty-one flavors of masculinity. It was enough to give a woman heartburn.

  Jane sought her favorite flavor and found Chance near the back of the group. He was nodding his head at something the chief said. When he’d learned that Chief Finnegan was going to be one of the bachelors up for auction, as a show of solidarity, Chance had agreed to be sold off as well. A sacrifice he’d been reminding Jane of for the past two days.

  “Okay, guys. Let’s get this show going.” She pointed to the photographer. “Sammie has set up a backdrop for the shots and I’ll call you forward one at a time. Hopefully we’ll be done and out of your hair shortly.”

  The chief stepped forward. “Until the next call comes in, we’re all yours.”

  “Great,” Jane said. “And since you’ve come forward, why don’t you go first.”

  Chief Finnegan didn’t look thrilled, but moved into place in front of the draped blue sheet, stoic.

  Sammie stepped behind her camera. “Okay, I’m not shooting you with a gun, just taking your picture. Try not to look like a martyr.”

  He bared his teeth.

  “Oookay.” Sammie stepped back. “Imagine I’m a little kid that you’re rescuing. You don’t want to scare me. Give me the smile you’d give the kid.”

  With some more prodding, the chief relaxed, his smile becoming easy. For a man his age, he really was quite good-looking. And definitely fit. With his soft brogue and burly good looks, women were probably lined up to date him, but Jane hadn’t heard of any relationships. In a small town like Pineville, that meant he was either very discreet or had been living like a monk.

  Jane pursed her lips. It really was a pity he wasn’t her mother’s type. Her mom deserved a good man in her life.

  The chief twisted to the right and back, posing at Sammie’s commands. The guys hooted, but kept their trash-talking to a minimum, something Jane was sure had more to do with the power the chief wielded to make them pull KP duty rather than any sense of decorum.

  The next firefighter up was in his early twenties. When he got in front of the camera, he whipped his shirt off and flexed his pecs.

  Sammie pressed the shutter without aiming, an involuntary reflex, her mouth open wide. “That’s . . . wow. I mean, yeah, hold that pose.”

  Jane stepped forward amid the catcalls. “Frankie, that’s not the look we’re going for. We’re doing head shots.”

  Sammie glared at her. “You wanna make money on your auction? That’s the look you want. Trust me.” Before Jane could tell her no, Sammie clicked away, while Frankie preened like a peacock.

  Jane rocked back on her heels. The girl was probably right. If that . . . Holy hell, what sort of muscles in your butt do that? Jane licked her lip. Yeah, if that didn’t get the ladies of Pineville to whip out their checkbooks, nothing would. So she sat back and enjoyed the show. Each young buck tried to outdo the other, one even going so far as to flip into a handstand. Topless, of course.

  “Like what you see?”

  Jane jumped. Chance stood behind her, arms crossed, face tight.

  “Um, no, of course not. They’re all hideous.” Her gaze was dragged to a firefighter who’d donned his turnout pants and was snapping the suspenders against his chest. Topless.

  Putting a finger under her chin, Chance drew her face back to his. “It’s only been two days since we were together and you’re already looking at other men. I think I’m insulted.” The edges of his eyes crinkled, telling Jane he was teasing. Mostly.

  “Two days is a long time, especially considering you won’t be going off shift for another two. A girl’s memory can only stretch so far.” She ran a hand over his abdomen, then snatched it back before anyone saw. “I think I liked what was under here. But the memories are fading away.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Janey-girl, it sounds like you need a reminder.” Grasping the neck of his shirt, he dragged it up and over his head.

  Her breath stuck in her throat. “Crap. I really had forgotten. I’d convinced myself there was no way you could actually look this good.”

  “And that’s not even the best part.” He pressed his shirt into her hands. “When my shift ends, you’ll be getting a refresher course, have no worries.”

  Frankie paused, his flirtation with Sammie momentarily forgotten. “Whoo-hoo, look at the new assistant chief. I thought everyone from California was supposed to be tan and fit. What happened to you?”

  Jane almost objected. Sure, Chance wasn’t as dark as Frankie’s natural olive skin tone, but his golden flesh had obviously been kissed by the sun. But it would be stupid to defend him from a little light razzing. That would start the gossip up, and by noon, everyone in Pineville would know she and Chance were sleeping together.

  Chance walked to the backdrop, throwing his shoulder into Frankie along the way. “Didn’t your mama teach you to respect your elders? Now, step aside and let me show you how it’s done.”

  That drew a rousing chorus of boos.

  Unlike the over-the-top muscleman poses the other firemen had flaunted, Chance stood naturally, hands in his pockets, a panty-melting smile on his face. Topless. A trickle of sweat wended its way down Jane’s spine. The rest of the firefighters faded from view.

  She didn’t like to think of herself as shallow. Looks were fleeting; character was what mattered. Chance turned his body to the side, caught her looking at him, winked. She blew out a shaky breath. But even if Chance had been the devil himself, she didn’t know if she could have resisted all that. She hoped she would.

  Following Sammie’s instructions, Chance crossed his arms across his bare chest, his pecs bunching. Jane bit back a whimper. Nope, she would have been toast.

  Sammie thanked him, and Chance swaggered back toward her, his gaze trained on her face, pinning her in place. She shoved his shirt at him. Jane was seconds away from dragging him behind the fire engine. He needed to cover up, stat.

  Trying to keep her voice casual, she told him, “I think that photo shoot went well. The auction will be a big hit.”

  He whipped the shirt over his head, smoothed it down his flat stomach. Bending close, he said, “Are you going to bid on me?”

  She chuckled. Now that he was fully clothed again, the laugh sounded mostly normal. “I’m organizing the auction, not participating in it. That would be too cliché, even for me.” Finding a stray thread on her red sweater, Jane plucked it off, kept her eyes lowered. She found the concept of a bachelor auct
ion embarrassing, and if it hadn’t been for the statistics she’d read about top moneymakers for fundraisers, she never would have agreed to the idea. But deep inside, the idea of buying Chance for the evening, marking him as hers, sent a thrill racing through her bones.

  She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.

  Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “The bachelor auction needs to raise a lot of money. Judge Nichols was telling me this morning that we’re a couple items shy on the silent auction end of the fundraiser. The hot air balloon company that was going to donate a free ride changed their mind, and a couple other items fell through.”

  He frowned. “Can’t we get replacements?”

  “Of course we’ll try. But the economy isn’t great and businesses have a hard time giving away their goods.” Making her way to the backdrop, she started taking down the draping. “And time is running short.”

  Chance reached over her head, unsnapping the fabric from the pipe it hung on. “I’ll make the rounds in town, see if I can get something.” He smiled down at her. “Women seem to like firemen wearing their blues. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes.

  “Getting donations,” he hastily added. He took one edge of the sheet, Jane the other, and they folded the ends together, meeting in the middle. Eyes crinkling at the corners, he said, “Really. Jane, you need to get your mind out of the gutter.”

  He was too tall for the noogie she used to give him when they’d first become friends, so she punched him in the arm. “I’m not the one who just put on a striptease.”

  His lips brushed her ear. “You can put one on for me anytime.”

  “Just grab the lights.” She shook her head and managed to keep the smile off her face.

  “Jane.” He shifted on his feet, a floodlight balanced on one shoulder. “What color dress are you wearing to the ball? I, uh, thought I might get a matching pocket square.”