Burn Me Anthology

by Shantel Tessier

  A doctor stepped in and kneeled in front of my mom. I braced when he took her hand. Blood roared in my ears, deafening everything around me before he spoke the words that let everyone in the waiting room breathe.

  Hugs were passed around, and when I tried to find Mav, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  ***

  After seeing my fully awake and very doped-up brother, I dropped Mom off at her place and decided to make an impromptu stop at Hank’s bar.

  I needed a drink.

  It was after one in the morning, mid-week, so the parking lot was almost empty. Within the first step I took into the bar, I spotted him. Sitting on the same stool he did when I’d first met him.

  Except this time, he was dressed a hell of a lot more casual and low key. In an old navy-blue shirt that looked like it’d been washed a thousand times and a super soft pair of old, faded jeans he was still as mouthwatering as the first time I saw him.

  Sliding in next to him, I grabbed Wally’s attention, pointing to Maverick’s drink and signaling for him to give me two. With a silent nod, he left. He must have heard what happened tonight.

  Maverick didn’t look at me. Didn’t say a word. And I wasn’t going to try until our drinks were served in front of us.

  “Whiskey,” I muttered, mid-cough. “Smooth.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered without a glance toward me after chugging his drink and the new one, signaling for another.

  “You should pace yourself,” I warned, but he didn’t look at me.

  Not one glance.

  “Thanks for the advice, kid.”

  “Mmm. Back to kid,” I observed, finishing up my drink.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You call me kid when you have to remind yourself that I’m Gabe’s sister.”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked harshly, obviously trying to intimidate me. If he thought he could scare me away, tonight of all nights, he was wrong.

  “Getting a drink.” I pointed at the glass in front of me, then raised my hand at Wally for a refill.

  “You should go home,” he muttered.

  “How about you let me decide when I’m ready to go home?”

  “Whatever,” he mumbled under his breath before I rolled my eyes.

  Quietly, he had another two drinks, while I had another whiskey and a water, pacing myself.

  “He’s okay, you know?” my voice softly reminded him, but he shook his head.

  “He fell.”

  “I know.”

  “He fell, and it was my fault.” His voice broke.

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “I do.” My hand covered his. “I know Gabe is a leader. He always took the front, and tonight he probably did the same,” I enlightened him, hoping to remind him of the reality of the situation.

  “Princess—”

  “I also know that if you ask Gabe, he’d rather be the one bunked up and recovering at the hospital with all those nurses than have your ass laid up and whining about a couple of scratches and bruises.”

  “Probably, but still.”

  “Accidents happen, Mav,” I tried to convince him, but he simply shook me off.

  “Not to my best friend.”

  “Shut up.” I rolled my eyes, staring at him, tilting my head toward him. The whiskey had already hit me. I wasn’t a lightweight, but my body felt warm and cozy, the liquor loosening my lips.

  “What?”

  “Stop playing the martyr!” I laughed, and he finally met my eyes.

  “I’m not, he shouldn’t have been—“

  “You’re right.” My shoulders slumped forward. “In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have been hurt,” I bit back, done and tired. “But it happened.” Looking away from him, I sipped my water before I turned back to him, “And he’s okay. He’s better than okay. He’s awake and flirting with nurses left and right.”

  “Princess—“

  “And what if it had been you? Huh? What if you hadn’t been as lucky?”

  “Princess—”

  “No!” I clipped. The thought of Maverick getting hurt made my chest hurt. “That’s not fair either. It’s not fair to have you throwing shit out like that!”

  “Okay, calm down, Princess.” His hand squeezed mine as he leaned his face in closer. His whiskey breath lingered over my lips, making my mouth tingle.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I know.”

  “He knows the risk. You know the risk. Every day, each of you from the firehouse know that risk.”

  “I know.” He leaned closer, resting his forehead on mine. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Mav—”

  “We cleared the floor and he looked at me,” he shared, and I stayed silent.

  He needed to say this. I knew that. I had seen it with my parents growing up. My dad having whispered conversations with my mom in the darkness after a crappy call as I hid in the shadows of the hallway. I would let him speak, but I needed to touch him. My hand touched the side of his face. My fingers in his newly cut hair.

  “He’s done that countless times since I moved here. Looked at me after clearing a floor.”

  “And?” I asked, nuzzling my nose against his. An urge to protect and support him rushed through me, mixing with the alcohol and desire in my bloodstream.

  “And one moment, he was there, and the next…” The image made my breath hitch, and he groaned. “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

  “I want to know. Tell me… Let me…”

  “Let you what?” he asked, his face so close we were breathing one another’s whiskey-infused air.

  “Help,” I whispered as my lips hovered over his. God, I want to kiss him.

  “Help?” he asked, sounding slightly confused. “You wanna help?” His raspy tone made me shiver from head to toe.

  “Let me take you home, Bridges.” My tongue peeked out, taking a swipe at his lower lip.

  “Princess,” he groaned.

  “Tonight.” I suggested, throwing caution and confetti into the air.

  “Tonight,” he repeated, his eyes on mine, his voice soothing and kindling my need.

  “I’m warm.”

  “Probably the whiskey,” he remarked cheekily, and my body swayed back and forth slightly.

  “Maybe… maybe not.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “Fresh air?” I suggested, my chest rising and dropping.

  “Princess,” he warned with a devilish grin.

  “Just one night.” I pressed my lips together. My cheeks flamed. “You get to forget the scare with my brother.”

  “And what do you get?” he asked me.

  My head swam with possibilities.

  Between the heady seduction that was Maverick Bridges simply by breathing and the whiskey in my system, my protective walls went down. As stupid as it might make me feel in the morning, at that very moment, sitting in front of him, I couldn’t ignore how happy and free I felt.

  So, I admitted the one thing I would never admit sober.

  “I get you.”

  Chapter 8

  Maverick

  I get you.

  Fuck, she’s was going to kill him. Between the whiskey and the adrenaline, he was not thinking right. He knew better than to do what he was about to.

  But he couldn’t find it in him to change his mind.

  “Wally!” he called out, not moving his eyes or body away from her.

  “What’s up?”

  “Give us another drink and call us a cab, yeah?” he requested.

  “Right on that, buddy.”

  “Another?” she asked. Her sweet little body tensed, ready for rejection, and a pang of guilt hit his gut. He didn’t want her to ever think he was rejecting her.

  Not again.

  Not ever.

  “We’re going to have another drink, get in the cab, and I’m not going to touch you.” His skin felt tight and his voice hoarse as he clen
ched and unclenched his hands slowly.

  “What?”

  “We’re going to get out of the cab. You’re going to let me open your door before you get out. And when we step into the house…” Her pretty lips opened to argue, but he shook his head. “You’re going to take every fucking piece of clothing off your sexy-as-hell body. A second after that, you’re getting on all fours in the living room floor.”

  “What…” Her eyes lit up. Hell, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  “Everything but your panties,” he ordered, and her eyes sparked with interest.

  “Mav…”

  “Those, you’re going to take off now. Before we leave,” he finished, wondering if she would comply like a good girl. Her eyes widened but then hooded with desire, and he knew she was going to accept his challenge.

  She turned her pretty head as she looked around Hank’s, and his gaze followed. The bar was mostly empty. Other than a couple of patrons in their own booths or tables across the bar. She looked at him, giving him her hand, and he took it without a second thought.

  When she jumped off her barstool, her eyes pinned on his, he couldn’t help but breathe in deeply as he watched her. Her hips subtly wiggled back and forth. She never looked away. Challenging him with every move she made. And he swallowed deeply when she bent, her hands almost at her toes. Her gaze was glued to his as she did the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his thirty-five years of breathing.

  Unashamed and brazen, she picked up the discarded black lace from the ground, slipping it into his hand. All of that with a motherfucking wink.

  Fuck.

  His pretty little princess was full of fucking surprises.

  He stuffed her sexy unmentionables into his front pocket but kept his hand in there.

  “Here you go.” Wally announced, placing their drinks on the bar. His dick was rock hard behind his jeans. He pried his hand away from her gift in his pocket and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket to hand over his credit card.

  “All our drinks,” he told Wally, ready to get the hell out of there. He was a complete and utter idiot. He hadn’t anticipated what knowing Sofia was bare beneath her cute maxi-skirt would do to him.

  “Mav, you don’t have to pay for my—”

  “Shut it, Princess,” he growled. His body was too damn hot. All his blood pooled in his southern regions. “Drink,” he ordered, and again she did as he asked without a peep.

  Something about having her submission, without her giving him any lip, made him want to beat on his chest yet humbled him at the same time.

  She trusted him.

  She was handing him a bigger gift than she would ever realize. He was determined to never hurt her by breaking that trust.

  They sat at the bar, facing Wally, away from one another, as they had their last drink. His hand on her thigh, he stroked the cottony material of her long skirt. Back and forth until Wally returned with his card, letting them know their cab was there.

  With a nod, he jumped off the barstool and held his hand out to her.

  “Ready?” He would give her one last chance. I shouldn’t take her hand.

  He should have let her take the cab alone and crashed at the station or grab a room somewhere else. He knew better than what he was about to do. Crossing a line he could never uncross.

  “Definitely,” she answered him with so much confidence in her voice that he felt the tip of his dick leak a bead of cum. Her hand in his, he looked at it.

  His head swayed slightly, reminding him they we’re both a little buzzed.

  “How drunk are you?” he asked. His body felt warm and hard, dying to feel her under his, but he wouldn’t take advantage of her either.

  “I’m not.”

  “You almost caught up to—”

  “I’m not a lightweight, Maverick. Now, are you done trying to talk me out of this?” she hit him back with her sexy-as-hell attitude. He must be a sick, sick man, because it riled him up further. “Unless you’ve changed your mind, then just…”

  Me? Change my mind? Ha!

  “Let’s get your ass in the cab,” he demanded in a hushed tone, knowing they were probably drawing too much attention to themselves.

  Stepping out to the chilly air, he pulled her into his arms to protect her from the elements, and her sweet body molded to his perfectly.

  How the hell am I going to keep my hands to myself in the long five-minute cab ride home?

  Sofia

  My heart raced so fast, it was almost impossible to catch my breath. He slipped out of the cab, his instructions on replay since we’d walked out of the bar. My thighs clenched together, only reminding me of my missing clothing. My skin was covered with goose bumps, every nerve in my body more than awake and on edge.

  I watched him walk around the cab, my eyes glued to his sinfully gorgeous body. Each of his movements was graceful and predatory, reminding me of a wild animal before it pounced. He opened the door of the cab like he had said he would and put his hand out for me.

  His small, innocent prey.

  If I didn’t take it, I knew I would regret it.

  I would never get another chance.

  I took his hand, leaving sanity behind.

  My breathing was erratic by the time we reached the front door. Like a gentleman—I knew sooner or later he would prove to be otherwise—he let me walk in first. I stood in front of him after he shut the door, taking my purse off my shoulder.

  “So?” he asked, and I shivered. Never tearing my eyes away from the man who had overpowered every thought since I’d laid eyes on him that first night back home, I moved my hands down to reach for the hem of my tank top.

  I wasn’t stupid or naïve. I knew this would probably blow up in my face, but I was still going to give this to myself.

  One night of really living for the now.

  I tossed my tank top on the ground, reaching behind me.

  “Slower,” he gritted, sitting his ass on the nearest couch.

  My hands moved away from my bra and down my torso. Looking over my shoulder, I shimmied out of my maxi-skirt, letting it pool at my feet. His low curse made me feel powerful and sexy as I touched my body, shutting my eyes as I enjoyed the feel of my hands on my skin. I undid my bra, letting a strap fall over my shoulder one at a time before pulling the material away from my heavy breasts.

  I kneeled and got on all fours in front of him, resting my forearms on the shaggy rug below me, and stared ahead as I watched his reflection on the big screen TV in front of me. As he was staring at my body, I wished I could take a snap image of the way he was looking at me. Not that I would ever be able to forget the passion that vibrated off him.

  “Head down, Princess,” he ordered, and I followed his directions.

  My face fell to the side, and my bottom popped up higher into the air. The cold air relieved what felt like fire brushing my skin.

  But it was his sudden touch that made my eyes flutter closed as he traced the line of my spine.

  “Has anyone ever told you your skin is like silk, Princess?” My body hummed at his praise. The tips of his fingers traveled down to the crack of my ass and right into the folds of my wetness. “Soaked,” he rumbled. “So pink,” he muttered to himself, the need in his voice driving me crazy.

  Swack!

  My head flew back and a cry escaped from the back of my throat, all while my skin burned with the most delicious heat.

  “I’ve been dying to do that since I laid eyes on this sweet ass.”

  “Mav…” I whimpered like a wanton slut. Swack! “Oww…” I whimpered.

  “You like that, don’t you, Princess?” he asked, his voice thick with lust. I nodded my head.

  Swack! The sound of his hand slapping my ass echoed through the living room as my head fell back.

  “Look at how that pretty pussy glistens for me, Sofi. You fucking love being my naughty girl, don’t you?” he goaded, and damn it, I did. We had only started to play, but he had blown every other sexual e
xperience I had ever had before him out of the water.

  “Yes.” I pushed my ass back toward him. Silently begging for more.

  “Fuck my fingers, baby,” he demanded to my relief. Two long fingers smoothly entered me. Without fumbling, obviously knowledgeable with a woman’s body, I felt him kneel behind me.

  And like I’d already done tonight, I did as he ordered. I fucked his finger. Bucking my body back and forth, his beautiful digit slipping in and out of me. The sounds of my slickness should have been embarrassing, but he made everything feel too good to feel shame. My body started to tighten around him too quickly, and before I could stop myself, dying to make this moment last as long as possible, he slipped his finger out of me.

  “No,” I whined, dropping my head in frustration. Missing his touch so bad.

  “Come here,” he ordered, sliding his beautiful body onto the couch, and I turned to him.

  He sat, and I moved, standing in front of him. “Up,” he ordered, but I didn’t understand his request.

  “What?”

  “You’re going to straddle my face, Princess.” A shiver ran through me. “You’re gonna rub that pretty pussy all over my lips.”

  His nose flared, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He held his body tightly, tension and intensity radiating off him in waves, like he was the one on edge.

  “Mav—“

  “Until you come and your sweetness drips down my face. You’ll stay up there. Get it?”

  “Maverick, I haven’t ever—“

  “Good,” he clipped as he reached for my hand. I tried to pull away, but he held on tighter.

  “Maverick.”

  “I want to be the one you do things with for the first time,” he admitted. I stared at him and silently wondered how drunk he was to admit that. “Hop up, babe.” He tapped the couch, and I looked at him.

  Now or never, I reminded myself.

  I hopped up, my legs surprisingly steady as my crotch was right in his face. I felt him breathe in and sigh, like I was the best thing he had ever smelled.

  It was so hot my knees went weak.

  “I might fall.” My voice softened, and his massive hands roamed upward, from my ankles to my ass, firmly holding me in place.