What If You & Me

by Roni Loren

  ***

  Andi had been prepared for the scars. She’d gotten a brief look that day she’d surprised Hill at his house, but what she hadn’t been prepared for was the full-body kick of arousal that shot through her at the sight of him without his shirt. She was already running hot, the feel of his erection pressing between her legs about to drive her mad. But now she wanted to touch him everywhere, kiss him everywhere, see all of him.

  However, even in the haze of arousal, she knew she wasn’t ready for that step. She’d made that mistake the last time she’d tried something physical with a guy. She’d rushed, trying to outrun her anxiety, but it was faster and more cunning than she’d given it credit for. She needed to be careful not to go too fast too soon. If she got spooked, she could ruin this whole thing and set herself back.

  That didn’t mean she couldn’t do some things, though.

  She let her fingertips travel down the solid muscles of Hill’s chest, over the smooth, raised patches of scars, and then lower to the ridges of his abdomen. His belly flexed beneath her fingers as he hissed out a breath. “Andi.”

  She loved the ache in his voice, the need. She liked knowing that she was getting to him as much as he was getting to her. And the fact that he hadn’t touched her, had kept his hands at his sides, gave her a burst of confidence. She reached down and pulled her top over her head, tossing it to the side, and leaving her in her lacy purple bra.

  Hill’s gaze ate her up as he groaned softly. “Jesus. You’re perfect.”

  His voice was pure sex. She could imagine it against her ear as he stretched out on top of her, pushed inside her. But the image was too much right now. If he lay on top of her, she’d panic for sure. So instead, she reached down and took his wrist in her hand again. She lifted his hand, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings against her ribs, and pressed his palm against her lace-covered breast. “You can touch me here.”

  His eyes flared with heat, and he cupped her breast, the warmth and weight of his palm waking up every nerve ending there. His thumb brushed across her nipple, and her flesh tightened and pushed against the lace, sending a shudder of need through her.

  “Can I kiss you here?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

  Andi swallowed past the knot in her throat and nodded. “As long as you promise to stop everything if I say stop.”

  “Always.” His gaze bore into hers, his liquid brown eyes reflecting the lamplight. “I mean it. You say stop, slow down, back off, I’m going to listen. Nothing happens that you don’t want to happen, okay?”

  She rubbed her lips together, the words winding their way through her, and she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Come ’ere,” he whispered, bringing his other hand to her back and gently easing her forward. “Let me make you feel good.”

  She let him guide her forward, pushing up on her knees and putting her breasts at eye level for him. Her heart was ready to pound out of her chest, but Hill started off gentle, brushing the tip of his nose against her skin, kissing her lightly along her collarbone, making her nerve endings strain for more. He kept his other hand loosely against the small of her back, giving her the ability to back off if she needed it, but that was the last thing she wanted to do in this moment. He murmured her name against her skin, his breath tickling her, and she arched against him, seeking more.

  When his mouth closed over her lace-covered nipple, sensation sparked through her and she gasped, her fingers threading into the hair at the back of his head, holding him in place. His mouth was hot and wet around her, the pressure sending tendrils of arousal straight downward. “Hill.”

  He tugged gently, and it felt as if he’d touched her everywhere, her whole body going sensitive and hungry. Without thinking, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She needed more of him, skin to skin. Hill lifted his hand without pulling away and slid her bra strap down her shoulder, freeing one arm and exposing her fully to him. She was trembling. She didn’t know if it was fear or anticipation but probably both.

  However, when his tongue stroked against her bared breast, any fear trying to break through vaporized. “Holy shit.”

  Hill hummed against her skin in clear approval and teased her nipple with his mouth, while cupping her other breast and stroking with his thumb. His beard tickled her skin, just the right amount of soft and abrasive to set her nerve endings aflame. Her head tipped back, and her body rocked against him, pressure building deep inside her. Yes, yes, this. Colors danced behind her eyelids, and her pulse felt as if it was pounding between her legs.

  It’d been years since she’d been touched by someone else and never like this, never with this much focused attention. Hill wasn’t just kissing her body as a means to an end or a journey to the big event. This was the event. He made wherever he kissed the center of the universe. Like if that square inch of skin was all he had to work with, by golly, he was going to slay it.

  “Hill,” she panted, the pressure building hot and urgent, “I need…but… God.”

  He pulled away for a moment and looked up at her, his lips shiny and his pupils black with lust. “Do you need to come, Andi?”

  Yes. Yes. Yes. Her throat tightened. “I’m not ready for sex.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking,” he said, voice full of confident promise. “I can help. You don’t even have to take your jeans off, but you’d have to trust me to touch you.”

  She considered him, her body aching for what he was offering, and finally nodded. “Okay.”

  “Thank you.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently, soothing some of the nerves that were trying to surface. When her body relaxed again, he let go of her face and kissed down her chest. She was dizzy with arousal, trying not to overthink things and get in her head. But she didn’t have to worry long because while his mouth was occupied with her breast, his hand slid down, and he pressed the heel of it between her legs over her jeans. The simple pressure shouldn’t have been intense with a layer of denim between them, but lightning streaked down her thighs as his hand put pressure against her clit.

  Oh. Oh.

  He rocked his hand against her, and she matched his rhythm, her fingertips digging into his shoulders. It’d been so long since any hand had touched her but her own that the sheer novelty of sensation had her rocketing toward climax.

  “Hill,” she gasped. “Please.”

  His teeth grazed her nipple, and he circled the heel of his hand against her. That was all it took. Her orgasm burst through her, making her cry out and surprising her with the blunt force of it. She held on to his shoulders, angling her body against him, riding out the delicious relief and losing all sense of where she was for a few blissful moments.

  When every ounce of her energy was sapped, she sank back onto his thighs, panting, the cool air of the room rushing along her overheated skin and her clit pulsing along with her heartbeat. Her head dipped between her shoulders, and she gripped her thighs, trying to regain her balance.

  Hill squeezed her knee gently. “You okay?”

  She took a steadying breath and lifted her head, finding Hill with searching eyes and a furrowed brow. She nodded. “I’d say I’m very okay. That was… Thank you.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted and his brow softened. “Thank you back.”

  Her gaze tracked down to the very obvious erection pushing at the fly of his jeans. Only then did she remember that she had gotten her pleasure, but she hadn’t done a thing for him. “I’m not sure you should be thanking me. That looks uncomfortable.”

  He shrugged. “Worth it. That was sexy as hell, Andi. You are sexy as hell.”

  “Do you need me to…” She didn’t know exactly what she was offering. Part of her wanted to touch him, make him feel good, but reality was starting to creep in. She could feel the first fingers of anxiety trying to reach into her brain.

  He took her hand and kissed her
knuckles. “I don’t need you to do anything. I’m a grown man. I won’t die from a hard-on.” He reached to the other side of the couch and grabbed her shirt. He handed it back to her. “Here, you’re shivering.”

  Gratitude moved through her. Somehow he’d sensed she needed some armor back. She tugged her shirt on, not bothering with finding her bra. “Thanks.”

  He helped her climb off his lap and found his own shirt hanging off her shelf of DVDs. He pulled it over his head and then joined her back on the couch. He gave her an evaluating look. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She lifted her hand and pinched the air between her thumb and forefinger, offering him a small smile. “I may be freaking out just a little bit. But not because of you. You were… That was…great. You’re an excellent…experiment buddy.”

  He laughed, his eyes crinkling with it. “Your dirty talk is on point, Lockley.”

  She snorted, but the little joke eased some of the tension coursing through her. She didn’t need to overthink this. Hill had made her feel good, and he’d kept his promise, letting her take the lead on things and not pushing for anything more. She leaned over and kissed him gently. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Thank you for trusting me. And for a great movie night.”

  “What movie did we watch again?” she asked. “I can’t seem to remember a thing that happened before the last half hour.”

  He smirked. “Good. That’s called a job well done.”

  “We should do this again,” she said, forcing herself to be brave. “The movie and the making out. And possibly you cooking more things for me.”

  He lifted a finger and pointed. “I didn’t cook. You did. Your taco-making skills are top-notch now.”

  Her lips curved. “That’s because you’re a great teacher.” She lifted a brow. “You know how I get when I talk about horror movies and books? How I get all fast-talking and excited?”

  He gave her an affectionate look. “Hard to miss.”

  “Well, that’s how you are when you’re talking about food,” she said. “You’re a complete cooking geek. It’s kind of adorable.”

  “Nah,” he said dismissively. “Horror’s your passion. Cooking’s just something I learned how to do.”

  “Bullshit.” She poked his shoulder. “You waxed poetic about tomatoes and flank steak. You don’t just like cooking. You nerd out about it. And you like teaching other people about it.”

  He grabbed the finger she’d poked him with and kissed the tip of it. “Maybe I just like teaching you. You’re pretty and a very good student.”

  She put her hand to her chest. “Well, obviously I am an absolute joy to teach, but I think this has much less to do with my charming ability to start fires in the kitchen and more with your natural ability to teach.” She nodded toward him. “You should do more of that. You could do online videos or something.”

  A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “Of me cooking?”

  “Yeah, teaching people to cook. Lord knows a lot of people are in need of it.” She gave him an up-and-down look. “Plus, you’d look damn good in an apron. People would watch you.”

  He scoffed. “No, they wouldn’t. I’m not a chef. The TV and internet are full of professionals showing people how to cook. I’m just some dude who used to cook for his fellow firefighters.”

  “But that’s what makes you perfect. You’re self-taught. You break it down for people like me because you used to be someone like me. And you make down-to-earth food.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “Thanks for the suggestion. But how about I stick to teaching you for now?”

  She narrowed her eyes, an idea coming to her, but she tucked it away in the For Later Consideration folder in her brain. “Fine. I will accept my own private chef lessons for now.” She tucked her knees beneath her. “But give it some thought. Life’s too short not to do the things that make us happy. If cooking makes you happy, you should do that.”

  He propped his elbow on the back of the couch, leaning his head against his fist and looking at her. “How about right now I teach you how to make the perfect hot fudge sundae?”

  “An orgasm and ice cream? This night keeps getting better.” She climbed off the couch and put her hand out to him. “Hell yes. You are definitely the best research buddy ever.”

  He put his hand in hers and let her pull him to a stand. “I try.”

  A rush of warmth went through her. Hill did more than try. He listened. He hadn’t pushed or rushed her. He hadn’t cajoled. But more than that, he hadn’t made her feel wrong or broken for being the way she was. He’d simply been with her in that moment, meeting her where she was and seeming to enjoy what they were doing as much as she did.

  That didn’t feel like trying. That felt special.

  And dangerous.

  This was a guy getting over a bad breakup and a catastrophic injury. He wasn’t here for anything more than a friendship and some physical connection. He’d told her as much. She needed to remember that.

  She needed to be careful with this one.

  More than that, she needed to be careful with herself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hill set his giant salad bowl on the table and took the spot across from Ramsey, who was already grinding pepper over his salad concoction. On their weekly lunch rotation, they tried to alternate the junk-food places with restaurants that were conceivably healthy like this build-your-own-salad joint. Ramsey’s dad, who’d also been a firefighter, had died of a heart attack two years ago, and it’d spooked Ramsey about his own health. It hadn’t made him stop eating french fries, but now he at least inserted some greenery in between.

  Ramsey handed the pepper grinder to Hill and then started splashing hot sauce on his salad. The guy put Tabasco on everything. “So,” Ramsey said when he was done with his salad doctoring, “how’s the cookbook coming?”

  Hill gave him a look as he swallowed a bite of his salad. “It’s not. I never agreed to write one.”

  “Right,” Ramsey said with a sage nod. “Because you’re so busy and all, you just can’t find the time.”

  “I’m not…not busy,” Hill said grumpily. “I’m rehabbing. Jogging. Strength training. Doctors’ appointments.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ramsey shoveled more salad in his mouth, looking wholly unimpressed.

  “I’ve been giving my neighbor cooking lessons,” he added. “And she’s teaching me about horror movies.”

  Ramsey’s brows went up, and he swiped at his mouth with a napkin. “No shit? You’re still hanging out with your hot neighbor?”

  Hill shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. “Yeah. Some. We got together for a movie night last week.”

  Ramsey grinned wide and leaned back in his chair. “Well, goddamn, you should’ve led with that. I’m impressed—you know—with myself. My inertia pep talk totally worked. I should definitely get into motivational speaking. How to Win Friends and Occasionally Get Laid.”

  Hill snorted and went back to his salad, spearing a chunk of avocado. “I said I was hanging out with her. I didn’t say I was sleeping with her.”

  And even if he had been, he wouldn’t be blabbing about it. Not anyone’s business.

  “Hey, man, baby steps,” Ramsey said, forking a piece of kale and eyeing it like he wasn’t sure why he was eating such a thing. “Are you into her? Or is it strictly a friends thing?”

  “We’re friends,” Hill said, not meeting Ramsey’s gaze.

  “Friends.” Ramsey leaned forward on his elbows, obviously trying to get more out of him. “Which doesn’t mean you’re not into her.”

  Most of the time Hill appreciated that Ramsey could read him so well. It saved him having to explain himself and had been indispensable when they were fighting fires together. But times like these, he wished his friend wasn’t so damn observant. Hill took a big bite of salad.

  Ram
sey laughed. “Yeah, you’re into her. But, let me guess, feel too out of practice to ask her out?”

  Hill swallowed his bite and took a swig of his iced tea. “More complicated than that.”

  Ramsey went back to his food. “What do you mean? She with someone?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s not that complicated.” He pointed his fork at Hill. “It’s that fear of getting back on the horse blocking you. I get it. You just need some practice after being out of the game so long.” He smirked. “Which is perfect because I’m about to solve your problem.”

  Hill gave him a cease-and-desist look. “There is no problem, Rams.”

  “Sure, sure. You’re fine. Everything’s cool. You’re totally not a hard-up, grumpy shut-in. You’re absolutely not on a one-way trip to becoming the get-off-my-lawn guy in the neighborhood.”

  Hill sniffed derisively. “Get off my lawn.”

  Ramsey chuckled. “See. You’re way too good at that. But listen, I’m being serious. I have something that will help. I was going to talk to you about this today anyway, but now you have even more reason to say yes.”

  “No.”

  Ramsey lifted his glass and frowned from behind his Diet Coke. “You don’t even know what it is.”

  “I know that look,” Hill said, going back to his salad. “Last time I saw that look, we almost got arrested for public indecency.”

  Ramsey lifted his hands, palms out. “I swear this is not like that. Hear me out. This is right up your alley because I know that my friend Hill is a man of the community.” He put his hand on his chest. “He is a hero who sacrificed himself to save others. He is selfless and brave and wise.”

  Dread was building in Hill. This kind of hand-over-heart, saccharine speech would lead to nowhere good.

  “And he believes in charitable causes,” Ramsey said in his preacher voice. “And he would never ever leave his best friend hanging with two unfilled spots at a charity event he’s in charge of for the firehouse.”

  “And there it is,” Hill said with a groan. “What’d you get yourself into?”