MIKE The Firefighters of Station 8

by Samanthya Wyatt

  “And you look like the devil incarnate.”

  He frowned. Guess he did look pretty rough. Although that hadn’t stopped her a moment ago.

  She pressed the cool cloth to his side. Earlier, he hadn’t even realized he’d been burned. Hurt like a bitch, now. She was right. He should get it checked in the morning.

  “This cut could probably use a few stitches.” Her gentle hands pressed a bandage to his side and lightly applied tape. Soft hands. He imagined them caressing the rest of him. Her fingers crawling across his chest. Her naked body lying atop his. Their legs intertwined. He already had a semi-erection, now it stiffened to an iron rod. He glanced at her to see if she noticed.

  Her eyes focused on the bandage, the tip of her tongue slipped between her teeth. Boiling heat pierced his abdomen and spread up his neck. His hands flexed. He could grab her and make his imaginings real.

  “There. All done.” She stood staring at him.

  Now what? Hadn’t she said something about spending the night? Desire fired in his belly. Slowly, he pulled her onto his lap, giving her plenty of time to resist.

  She didn’t.

  Although, she did brace her arms on his shoulders, keeping her body back several inches to keep from brushing his wound.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “I’ll switch you to my good side.” His hands eased up to gently rub the tight cords in her back. “You’re tense.”

  “You’ve had a rough night and you say I’m tense.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my legs or my arms. Is this the more comfortable part?”

  Her laugh poured over him like warm honey. He wanted to kiss her senseless.

  “I had something else in mind.”

  “Like what?” One hand massaged her back while his other hand teased its way under her shirt to her abdomen. Her skin reminded him of silk. She slid her hands behind his neck and played with his hair. Nerves he didn’t know he had tingled. He needed to kiss her again.

  She rested her forehead against his. “Maybe you should shower while I scrounge up something for you to eat.”

  Hell. He probably had grime on his face and stunk like charred metal. He basked in the scent of her hair, the warmth on his brow, her breath skimming his chest. Unable to stop himself, he brushed his knuckles down the slender column of her neck.

  “As wonderful as this feels, what do you say we put this on hold. For a little while.” With the gentlest of touches, she gave him a quick peck on his brow.

  As long as you pick up where you left off.

  When she stood, he felt cold all over.

  “I can offer you a shower, but I’m afraid I don’t have any clothes for you. I have a washer, so if you can make do with something, I can have your things clean by morning.”

  He didn’t give a rip about his clothes. His brain latched on to staying with her till morning.

  “You’ll let me spend the night?” he asked, not hiding the hopeful smile that curved his lips.

  “I’m not about to let you go.” A teasing glint entered her eyes. “We’ll talk about where you sleep later.”

  Damn. The night wasn’t over yet. And if he didn’t have any clothes, the evening promised to get very interesting.

  Chapter 6

  “Make yourself at home,” Cassie said and closed the spare bedroom door behind her. She leaned against its wooden surface, the hungry look in Mike’s eyes imprinted in her mind. It took all of her strength not to march right back in there and take care of that bulge in the front of his jeans. Mike’s hot looks and easygoing manner made a woman want to tear off her clothes.

  She shoved away from the wall and released a heavy breath. Her apartment had two king size bedrooms, each with a private shower, which was what had sold her on this place. She kept it stocked with soap and shampoo, all the necessities for when her mom visited. She didn’t need to think about Mike and all his naked muscles in that shower.

  Was she being stupid? She wanted him. He didn’t hide the fact that he wanted her. She still couldn’t believe her thoughts or the way her body had responded. And that kiss. She hadn’t wanted to stop. Usually, she pushed men away. So why was she behaving so irrationally with Mike?

  She swiped her hair from her face and went back to the kitchen to clean up. She’d give him a few minutes and then gather his clothes.

  The smell of smoke lingered in the kitchen. She lifted Mike’s soiled shirt and took it to the laundry room, thinking it belonged in the trash. After tidying up, she searched the refrigerator for an idea of what to fix him to eat. Omelets or cheese and crackers with a sausage roll. He probably wouldn’t want anything much heavier.

  His behavior disturbed her. Firefighters were fit and most were conscientious. Jared fit the roll of playboy. Mike did not, even though he’d flirted and he was hot enough to attract any woman. Given the vibe earlier, he could have taken her right in this kitchen. He was a prime example of a hot-blooded male, yet he’d been respectful and controlled his passion, even when she’d pushed him while squirming in his lap. Their attraction was mutual and she’d been as hungry as he. She hadn’t denied him—much. She’d been tempted almost beyond endurance, but his pain-filled groan had stopped her cold.

  What had she been thinking? She didn’t do things like that—throw herself at a man. Did she want Mike to think her easy?

  She gathered food from the refrigerator and placed the items on the counter. She pulled a large knife from the wooden holder and cut into the sausage roll with vigor. Mike should be undressed by now. He would be getting into the shower. Should she remind him not to get the bandage wet? Maybe he needed more towels. He was a big man, after all.

  Once the smoke was gone, what would he smell like? She tried to recapture his scent from the Mexican restaurant. A tantalizing aroma, all male. Spicy and man. She slammed the knife down in frustration, snatched a paper-towel and wiped her hands, then abandoned the food and charged down the hall to the towel closet. She grabbed two more towels, shut the door and hurried to the spare room. Easing the door open, she glanced about and heard the shower running. Her gaze landed on the partially open door to the bathroom.

  Her pulse raced. Did she dare take a peek? She had extra towels for him. If he caught her … She had an excuse—that she came to pick up his dirty clothes.

  She crept closer to the bathroom door, a matter of inches separated it from the closure. How in the world would she explain if she got caught spying on him in his shower? The idea of being noticed had her swallowing with apprehension. Then she spotted a hazy outline of his reflection in the bathroom mirror and the crazy notion of joining him pricked her brain.

  Damn. This wasn’t like her.

  Mike was the type of guy who’d put lustful thoughts in any girl’s head. Fighting her inner demons, she leaned her head against the doorjamb. When the water stopped, she jerked back. She could not get caught lurking. She dropped the towels on the bed, grabbed his belongings and fled.

  She’d missed her chance.

  After tossing his clothes into the wash, she headed back to the kitchen. The food prepared, she set two plates and silverware on the table. The aroma of fresh coffee filtered through the room. Suddenly, the back of her neck tingled, alerting her to his presence.

  “I decided on omelets. There’s also a plate of sliced cheese and sausage,” she said as she turned. Whatever else she’d been about to say died in her throat.

  Braced on one arm, Mike leaned against the doorjamb—looking powerfully male. Wet, dark hair spiked about his head as if he’d rubbed it vigorously to get it dry. Inky lashes curved above his glazed blue eyes and his sculpted cheeks crinkled in a wolfish grin. Her gaze lowered and she gasped. Black, wisps of hair dusted his tanned skin, streaming a trail over perfectly shaped abs, down his sculpted belly to where his hips formed that jaw-dropping angle.

  She licked her dry lips and wondered if she would ever breathe normally again.

  The towel covered a pair of sturdy thighs,
well-shaped knees and calves, again with dark curling hair and … how could a man have nice looking feet?

  “You were saying?” His smooth voice held a trace of mirth.

  Her mouth worked, but she couldn’t get words past her lips. In her mind, she saw him step forward, tear off the offending wrap, and catch her as she flew into his naked arms.

  She couldn’t move.

  She simply drank in his natural sexuality. A throbbing began in her center and threatened to wet her panties. She stood agog as he shoved away from the wood and slowly came toward her.

  “Omelets?” He stepped around her and pulled out a chair. “Mmm. Smells delicious.”

  You’re delicious.

  Forcing her drooling tongue back in her mouth, she lifted two mugs from the counter and joined him. After she slid onto her chair, she raised her face to his—the rascal had a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips.

  He knew exactly how his state of dress—or undress—affected her. If he wanted to tease her, let him. It might be fun to see what he might do with only a towel to cover his manly parts.

  “Help yourself,” she said in a throaty voice meant to entice.

  Mike’s gut jerked. He’d like to help himself. Cassie had no idea how much control it took for him not to act on her words. If she knew how he longed to throw her on this table and bury himself in her heat, she wouldn’t be openly ogling him. He wondered if she’d follow through if he took her up on her unspoken invitation. Wearing only a towel, he expected her probing gaze to ignite the thing in flames. He already burned.

  Although he was enjoying her scrutiny, he held back. Aching with need, his balls would probably turn blue in sheer disbelief that he’d denied them when he should have seized her and skipped the meal. He lowered himself to the chair. Damn. With his size, the towel was barely long enough to shield his bare cheeks against the smooth wood.

  It might be brazen, but what other choice did he have? When he’d finished his shower, he’d known Cassie had been in the bedroom. If the towels on the bed and the disappearance of his clothes weren’t enough to convince him, her scent would erase any doubt. The bathroom door had been partially open. Had she lingered? Had she given in to her desires and looked? What healthy woman wouldn’t?

  That thought tightened his balls. Cassie sneaking into his room, maybe even his shower. The bath towel on his lap lifted. At least with the table between them, she couldn’t see.

  And if she did? Hell. She looked ready to burst into flames as it was. He smiled. Yeah. This should definitely be one interesting night.

  “I thought you might be hungry. If you’d like something else, just let me know.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her face flushed. She quickly averted her eyes, realizing her statement had sounded suggestive.

  Oh, he wanted something else, all right. And she knew what it was. He scarfed down a bit of food. He’d need his strength. Meeting her gaze, he lifted his mouth in a grin.

  “I know it’s late, but I thought you might want the caffeine,” she said.

  “You thought right,” he said and gave her one of his sensual grins. Her hand shook. Good. Anticipation was the best part. He took a gulp of coffee. “It tastes good.” He stared at her lips while he ran his tongue over his. “Not as good as you.”

  Her eyes glazed over. He glanced down to her breasts and right on cue, her nipples puckered. The towel leaped again. His dick had become a yoyo.

  And then, we can get more comfortable.

  “How’s your side?” Her scrutiny made him hot, but her velvety voice fueled his yearning.

  “It’ll do.” He managed to keep his hands to himself and finish the rest of his food. He settled back in the chair and rubbed his stomach, loving the way her eyes were fixed on his chest. “Is now the comfortable part?”

  “What?”

  He held in a chuckle at her surprised, yet innocent, expression. She’d forgotten.

  “You said earlier we could get more comfortable.”

  The vein in her neck pulsed and her throat worked as she swallowed. “I’d say you are pretty darn comfortable in nothing but a towel.”

  A thrill of satisfaction settled in his chest. Cassie was antsy. Fidgety. He liked that.

  “Since you brought that up, maybe you have something a little larger.” With both hands, he angled his thumbs toward the lower part of his body.

  “Oh …” She quickly pushed out of her chair. “Of, of course.”

  When she disappeared, he chuckled. Clasping his temporary garment, he stepped to the living room and flopped on the couch. Carefully, he arranged the towel so his family jewels wouldn’t hang out.

  He took the time to study Cassie’s living room. Cozy. Just what he would imagine her place to be. Soft colors on the walls, with a matching sofa and chair in blue. Noticing the pillows scattered about, he wondered if she often fell asleep on the couch at night while watching TV. An assortment of shelves lined one wall holding little figurines and whatnots. He guessed women liked collecting those sorts of things. It had been just him and his dad, growing up. They hadn’t had much use for knickknacks.

  A row of pictures lined the top shelf. He supposed they were of her family. One of an older couple, most likely her parents. One of her, evidently her graduation photo. One of her and Tammy. And one of her and another girl, making him wonder if she had a sister.

  Cassie sprinted through the living room and didn’t see him. She came to a sudden stop, then retreated two steps back, jerking her head in his direction. She tossed a blanket at him.

  “Thanks.” He patted the space beside him.

  “I should get you a new bandage since you’ve gotten that one wet.” Her arms stiff at her sides, less poised, as if she wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Okay.” It wasn’t that bad, but if she wanted to tend to it that suited him fine.

  Blinking, she lowered her gaze and then it darted back, as if she needed to take another look before she could move. “Oh,” she said distractedly, then dashed down the hall.

  He smiled at her reaction. All nerves and jittery. The woman wanted him. He’d have to be dead not to notice.

  She came back with supplies and sat down on the low table directly in front of the couch. He stared at her flushed cheeks as she cut a square of gauze. When she leaned forward, her knees slid between his. He silently thanked the blanket for hiding his immediate reaction.

  His chest squeezed from the touch of her fingers smoothing over his skin. He watched her in silence, admiring her slanted eyes, her slightly curved nose, her full, plush lips, wanting to devour them. A fragrance between sweet and sinful drifted, acute enough to draw him, entice him.

  “There. Butterfly strips. It’s better than nothing if you don’t want to go get stitches.”

  She gathered the items and padded back down the hall, he appreciated her tight buns in her washed-out jeans. When she came back, she stood in the middle of the room as if she was afraid to come near him.

  “Well, uh, it’s late.” She bit her bottom lip, sending another surge to his groin.

  “Come here,” he said in a coaxing voice, barely above a whisper. He held out a hand, palm up. She slowly closed the distance and placed her fingers in his. He didn’t want to rush her, so he gave a slight tug and waited. After a moment’s hesitation, she slumped on the couch next to him. He placed his arm around her, and pulled her close. Holding her felt so right.

  He didn’t make another move. Giving her time to adjust, he wanted to assure her he was not going to pounce, even though she smelled good enough to eat.

  After a few moments, she gingerly placed her hand on his chest, above the bandage. Her fingers soft against his skin, electrifying the desire in his body. Her sweet scent enveloped him. He rested his head on top of hers and savored the feeling as she snuggled into him.

  Now this was comfortable.

  Except her hand was damn hot.

  It felt like a branding iron pressed into his skin. A slight sigh fell from her lips as
she curled into his side. He inhaled a deep breath and felt his shoulders unwind. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so peaceful.

  He nuzzled her temple.

  She lifted her face as if seeking his kiss. She had the most expressive eyes and he fell into their depths. Her hot breaths were shallow—still they scorched his skin. He cupped her cheek, brushing her lips once, twice, then he slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue swept past the seam of her lips and she welcomed him, seeming eager for his invasion. She tasted like sugar and warmth and everything he desired. He kissed her gently at first. Then thoroughly. With long strokes, he explored her mouth. The more he stroked, the more he wanted. She tasted divine. She gripped the back of his neck and he turned up the heat.

  Sliding his fingers in her hair, he moaned and kissed her until neither one of them could breathe. He pulled back long enough to stare into her eyes. Pools of jade sparkled back at him, longing, craving. He kissed her again. Tenderly, with teasing strokes, building her passion. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. She tasted so damn good, better than anything he’d experienced in a long time. Maybe never.

  With a will of their own, his hands roamed over her body and it wasn’t enough. He could spend hours kissing her, but he wanted more. He wanted to peel every layer of clothing and then run his tongue over her delectable skin.

  Again, he paused, locking his gaze with hers. “You have beautiful eyes.”

  Need flashed in her gorgeous green orbs, showing him what he so desperately wanted to see. Her hands slid up his chest, her sensual touch making his entire body come alive. He wanted to rip off her clothes, take her over and over until they both succumbed to exhaustion. Fear of pushing her too fast brought him back from the brink of abandoning his control.

  He drew in a ragged breath and willed his body to slow. Finding the hem of her shirt, he slid one hand under the fabric. Warm, soft flesh greeted his searching fingers. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, flaming the very desire he tried to restrain. Suddenly, he needed her as naked as he.

  Impulsively, he pushed her top up and over her shoulders. His eyes feasted on the creamy flesh above her lacy covering and her hair trickling over her shoulder to lie against the curve of one full breast. He focused on her eyes and the raw desire he saw in them. With the tip of his finger, he traced her collar bone, then slid to the swell of her breasts. Turquoise darkened to a deeper teal and she held her breath, as if waiting to see what he might do next. He flicked the clasp of her bra, peeled the flimsy thing off and tossed it over his shoulder. The fullness of her breasts spilled onto her chest.