Summer Heat

by Carly Phillips

  Joe shrugged, seeming almost… sheepish? It was hard to pin down, because Ethan had never seen that expression on his boss before.

  “The new teacher needs an escort at the school,” Joe said. “It’s locked up now for winter break. The principal let her in this morning to setup her classroom, but Ms. Cline lives far enough away to make the drive dangerous. I need you to go to the school, lock up after her, and make sure she gets home safely. There’s a storm coming.”

  “Got it.” He didn’t need to ask why he got the short end of that stick. He was the rookie—and besides, he was young and single. It stood to reason he would pull the late-night babysitting shift. Even if the pie in his passenger seat cooled with every extra minute.

  Joe cocked his head, eyes shrewd. “Oh, and lieutenant?”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Sheriff?”

  “She’s new to town. Try to make her feel welcome.”

  * * *

  The sound of gravel crunching drew Lia to the window of her new classroom, where construction paper snowflakes already decorated the edges. A truck with Dearling County painted on the side bounced to a stop in the school’s gravel parking lot. Beyond, a gorgeous vista of blue-gray hills and white-streaked sky made her chest ache.

  And there he was. Ethan.

  They’d told her the Sheriff’s office would be sending someone. She’d hoped it would be him ever since the principal had let slip about the “handsome” new deputy. He stepped out of the truck, legs long and shoulders broad, his whole body a scorching hot drink in that deputy’s uniform. She wanted to strip him down, to peel away layers of cotton and wool, until nothing covered him but the hair on his body and the goosebumps of his skin.

  Get a grip, Lia.

  They had a lot more things to work out before they could get naked together. Assuming they ever did get naked together… She busied herself collecting the papers she wanted to go over before classes started. The previous teacher had left lesson plans, and Lia planned to follow them. There was no reason to disrupt the children any more than they already would by having a teacher leave in the middle of the year for a family emergency.

  She slung the tote bag over her shoulder and took a final look at the room. Brightly colored posters and kid-painted projects stared back at her. It was far from a blank slate, but she hoped that she would make a mark here.

  The hallways were empty, and her warm boots squeaked softly on the tile.

  And then there were two sets of squeaks. Two pairs of boots moving closer.

  Her heart sped up. She rounded the corner and almost—oof!—ran into him. “Oh God,” she breathed. Because she’d just launched herself into his chest. His strong, wide, uniformed chest.

  His eyes widened. “Lia?”

  Hadn’t she planned for this? Dreamed of this? She forced a smile. “Surprise.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Not the reception she had hoped for. But not a surprise either. “I’m the new teacher.”

  He didn’t seem pleased. His eyes were almost black in the shadowed hallway.

  “I figured that one out.” His voice was cold, and she shivered. He noticed, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s get you out of here. The heat’s not even on. You stayed here all day?”

  She swallowed, her throat dry. “I was… setting up my classroom.”

  He shook his head like she was ridiculous, and she felt ridiculous. What had she thought? That he would haul her into a bear hug? And then strip her naked, lay her down, and warm her up with his hands and tongue and body?

  “Let’s go,” he said, turning on his heel.

  Yeah, that was exactly what she’d thought. She followed him out, cheeks burning.

  He opened the door for her and helped her inside, where it smelled like sweet fruit and warm crust. But his touch was cool, mechanical. Like he’d do for any teacher. Not the hot way he’d touched her before. What if she’d made a terrible mistake?

  What if he didn’t want her here?

  “I’m staying at the Dearling B&B,” she said, voice shaking despite her best efforts. She’d gotten a discounted weekly rate on the room since they didn’t have many visitors.

  He grunted and missed the turn, without looking her way.

  “Ethan?”

  “You’re coming with me,” he said gruffly. “We need to talk. Privately. You got a problem with that?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. At least he didn’t hate her. Wait, what if he hated her? No, she had to hope he wanted her. It was the only thing that had kept her going through the weeks of application and interviews. Of knowing she was close to him and praying it would be enough.

  Oreo provided just the distraction she needed. He jumped on her with enough force to push the breath out of her, licking her face, until she laughed and Ethan pulled her away.

  “Just how many tacos is Oreo eating these days?” she asked.

  He gave her that familiar smile, the one that made her heart pump double time. “He’d eat a whole taco stand, if I let him.”

  The dog in question wagged his tail, clearly eager for dinner. Or maybe some of whatever was in that bag Ethan held.

  Ethan’s gaze met hers and locked. The memory of their previous kiss flashed through the air around them, like sunlight. Like twinkling lights on a string. His eyes turned wary. Was he worried she’d expect something from him?

  Well, he wouldn’t be totally wrong.

  She turned away and ran her finger along the countertop. “You don’t seem happy to see me. In fact, you didn’t seem happy to see me last time I drove up. You’re going to give a girl a complex.”

  His voice was gruff—and closer than she’d expected. “I was surprised. Then. And now.” There was a long pause. “You left.”

  “So did you. Without a forwarding address. Without even a goddamn note. Without answering my calls.” He’d left her in Austin, left her to wonder and worry. It had hurt, and it hurt worse to think she’d made him feel that way, because she’d done the same thing. “But I came back.”

  “Lia.” There was urgency in his voice—power and desperation too.

  She kept her gaze turned away, unable to face him. Unable to bear it if he lied… or if he told the truth. “Am I too late?”

  Instead of his voice, she heard the rustling of paper. And Styrofoam? She turned. Her gaze dropped to the box he held. Something was written across the top in black marker. Top Secret.

  His mouth lifted in a small rueful smile. “How do you feel about blueberries?”

  Um… “I like them?”

  He shook his head solemnly. “That’s what I thought too. Before.”

  He opened the lid, revealing the largest piece of pie she’d ever seen. Slice wasn’t the right word for it. This had to be a third of the pie. Plump purple blueberries spilled from the sides. A browned crust was studded with tiny sugar cubes. The liquid part of the filling had bubbled up from a cutout star and caramelized during baking.

  A little circular container held vanilla ice cream, and while the weather might not be ideal for chilled desserts, the thought of them paired made her mouth water. As did the sweet sugary scent.

  “God,” she said.

  “I know,” he said grimly, his brown eyes sparking with heat, and it felt a little like they’d both had an orgasm against their wills. Just from looking at the pie. What would happen when they ate it? “I’ve been waiting to share this with you. Waiting and wondering if I ever would.”

  Then she didn’t have to wonder anymore, and neither did he, because he had grabbed a fork and tugged her to sit. The place where his hand touched hers felt like a firecracker, exploding into light before fading to smoke.

  She breathed in deep and shivered, her senses suddenly alert. She could feel the heat coming off the pie. The heat coming off Ethan. She felt her own heat, pressing out, a tactile thing that could explore and touch and need, a manifestation of her own greedy desires.

  Her thighs pressed together on the hard wooden chair.
A coarse and fatalistic excitement thrummed through her body as she watched him dig a piece with his fork.

  Everything had always been leading to this: his arm reaching toward her, his gaze on her mouth. The softly spoken command. “Open.”

  And she did, her lips parting like the proverbial red sea, and him marching between. He had sour-sweet berries for soldiers and flakes of crust to carry them. Flavor burst on her tongue, and she swallowed convulsively, savoring the hint of earthy berry skin left behind. Her eyes fell shut.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, with just enough country twang to twist her up inside.

  I know. I know. I know.

  She found the strength to return the favor. But not with a fork or any other pretense at politeness. This felt feral, as she gripped three berries between thumb and forefinger. They were slippery on her skin, hard to hold on to, but she squeezed them tighter, feeling them burst on the ride to his mouth.

  Open, he’d said to her, but she didn’t extend him the same courtesy. Where he was polite, she was demanding, and she pressed the berries to his full lips. He opened for her, welcomed her, drew her in with the suction of his mouth and the playful slide of his tongue.

  He fed her another bite, this time with his fingers, and she sucked them clean, relishing the hint of salt with the sweet. They traded pieces of pie until half of it was gone, until both of their fingers were dyed blue with the juices, until her tongue felt swollen from sucking him.

  His lids were low now—with arousal, she recognized. A mirror image of her own startling need.

  He sat back, and she waited, heart sunk low, for him to tell her they were done. Done with pie. Done with this strange form of flirtation and sex. I can’t do this, he’d say, and the honest regret in his voice would only make her feel worse. She had lost him before she’d even known she wanted him. Just by dating his best friend. Just by being Ethan’s platonic friend for so long.

  She’d been well and thoroughly friend-zoned by her own bumbling stupidity.

  But his expression didn’t glint with remorse. Instead his eyes were dark with lust—and anticipation. “Stay,” he murmured, his voice gruff.

  Please yes, her body answered, but she wasn’t ready to give in. His rejection the last time had hurt, even if she’d known he had his reasons. She wanted to see him suffer… just a little bit. “Stay for what?” she asked, daring him, taunting.

  He met her challenge with one of his own. “Let me lick you dry. I bet you’re wet for me right now. I want to taste you while my mouth is still sweet from the pie. I want to drink you down for dessert.”

  Chapter Eight

  Her eyes were wide, cheeks flushed. Her breath caught. Because he’d shocked her. Maybe it was too much, too fast. They’d only kissed and touched—so briefly. But then he thought about the years he’d spent waiting for her, and he knew it couldn’t happen quick enough. He’d never have her fast enough, deep enough.

  It wasn’t only loyalty that had sent him running from Austin after he’d walked in on her and Chris. It wasn’t only jealousy. It was also the bone-deep satisfaction he’d felt at seeing her on her knees—even if he’d wanted her in front of him instead.

  He wanted her on her knees, mouth hugging his cock. He wanted her eyes focused on him. He wanted her begging and desperate and needy. Imagining her that way had kept him up countless nights, tugging relentlessly, roughly at his dick as if that could somehow compare.

  But this was Lia. Sweet, smart, bold Lia who probably didn’t want him pushing her around during sex.

  Unless she did. “Please,” she whispered, and he almost came in his boxer briefs.

  He shoved the food aside—the pie too—to make room for her. “Step out of those jeans for me, sweetheart. I want to see those long legs and creamy skin.”

  He was quiet most of the time. Probably soft spoken for an army grunt. But he liked to be loud in bed. And rude and demanding. Not everyone liked it, but he couldn’t change himself.

  Not even for her.

  Her breathing sped up. Her eyes turned glassy, but she stood and obeyed him without question. He knew he’d surprised her, but so far she’d reacted perfectly to him, as if he’d hummed a tune and discovered her following behind. The Pied Piper, just for her, and he’d lead them both underwater.

  When her legs were bare, he fought the urge to go onto his knees, to press his open mouth to her calves and kiss her feet.

  There’d be time enough for that later.

  “Get your ass on the table,” he said hoarsely.

  “Ethan?” Her voice wavered. Had he gone too far? Not that it mattered if he had. They were already here, past the edge and falling free.

  He softened his voice. “It’s okay, baby. Just scoot that pretty ass on the table. I want your pussy where I can see it.” He kept going when she complied, wanting to reward her. “You want me to see your pussy, don’t you? So soft and pink. You want me to kiss you there.”

  She settled on the table, her legs pressed together, modesty clinging to her half-naked body in shreds. “It’s so bright,” she muttered, eyes cast down.

  He never wanted her embarrassed with him. He would have turned off the light to spare her, but the whole cabin was filled with shadows, the day’s last light streaming through the windows. And his sympathy wasn’t quite strong enough to make him leave her alone.

  “I want to see all of you,” he said, implacable. “Every shadow. Every part. I’m going to spread your legs and press my face in between. There isn’t a part of you I won’t see or touch or lick, understand? All you can do is take it.”

  Just like that, it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter that she had been with his best friend. He’d take the risk that Chris would speak to him again—someday. This wasn’t that future, and it wasn’t their shared past. This was now, when he pressed the heel of his palm to his dick to appease the ache. It would be a long time before he got relief, and he intended to make Lia pay during every minute of it.

  If she was willing. “Nod if you understand.”

  * * *

  Lia stared at the man and tried to focus. He wanted her to be at his mercy. He wanted her to give herself over to him and hope he would be kind. He wanted to really make sure she wanted this—and she couldn’t think of anything sweeter.

  She nodded.

  He slid one heavy palm between her knees and spread them. Cool air rushed over her sex, and she gasped. He was going to take her—finally.

  She stopped hoping he would be kind about it. She wanted him raw instead—feral, and the rough nudge of his thighs between hers told her she’d get just that.

  Except she didn’t. Instead he touched her softly, trailing blunt fingertips across her collarbone, a course brush of calluses over her arms. Feeling her, teasing her, tracing the same path his eyes had done when he’d walked in on her and Chris.

  “Why did you come back, Rosalia?”

  Rosalia. His stern tone sent shivers down her spine. “I got a job here.”

  “And that’s why you’re here. In Dearling.” His voice was flat, plain statements of fact instead of questions. Because he already knew the truth. And he wouldn’t let her get away without knowing it too.

  “I’m here for you.” The words came out on a breath, more cool air than sound.

  “I’m your friend. That’s why.”

  Her throat grew tight. “You are my friend.”

  His eyes softened. “Oh, Lia. Why didn’t you tell me when you got the job? When you applied for the job?”

  “Maybe because I wanted to do something without you and Chris helping me.”

  “We didn’t do a damn thing except hang around you, and that was a favor you gave us, Lia. Every single thing you accomplished, you did on your own. And if I made even one second of your day easier, then I’m grateful.”

  She blinked.

  Remorse flickered across his expression. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t be. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, th
at’s all.”

  And she didn’t feel worthy.

  He stepped forward, his eyes solemn and dark. “I was an idiot for waiting that long to tell how I felt about you. But I was also an idiot for walking away. I’d be your friend, if that’s all you wanted.”

  Oh no. Just friends? There was a huge freaking difference between friends and lovers, and she’d never be satisfied with the former. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, reaching up his back. His muscles flexed under her touch, and she felt a rumble of pleasure through his chest. God, this was delicious. Every move she made was answered by his body, every touch reflected in his.

  His voice went husky. “Guess not, then.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Always friends, Ethan. And more.”

  She worked her way down his body to show him just how much more. She showed him with her hands on the zipper of his uniform, with her lips against the hot shaft in her palm. She showed him with her tongue, mixing the sweetness of berries with salty precum. He groaned above her, shuddering and swearing until he dragged her to the bed, practically tripping on his clothes, almost tearing hers off.

  Then he was inside her, then he was home.

  And so was she.

  She managed not to scream only by biting his shoulder, and he jerked and groaned his release in reply.

  Snow came down that night, pale flecks through the night air. They watched through the window, warm from the fire and the company and the heat of their bodies.

  It was the middle of the night before either could be moved to get food. Lia dug through the paper bags and found enough to feed them for several days before they’d have to dip into the pantry. There was a whole tub of mashed potatoes and a box of yeasty biscuits. There were hamburger steaks topped with grilled onions and gravy.

  And she, she herself, carved the roast beast.

  * * *

  Want another super sexy accidental threesome?

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