by J. R. Ward
“I don’t want to have to pay for it.”
“I’ll just do it in my mind, then.” As she laughed, he smiled and kissed her some more. “God, you taste amazing.”
And then the shirt went the way of the jacket and—
No. Bra.
Danny swayed in his fancy shoes. Her breasts were in perfect proportion to her athletic body, high and tight, tipped with nipples that were pink.
Sweeping his hands up, he captured them and then bent down, sucking one and then the other into his mouth.
The groan she let out almost left him coming in his pants.
chapter
10
Anne let herself arch up to Danny’s mouth as he kissed and sucked at her, the velvet of his tongue lapping and licking, driving her higher and higher. Spearing a hand through his black hair, she held him in place against her breasts, wanting more.
“On the bed,” he said. “We gotta get on the bed.”
He picked her up as if she didn’t weigh a damn thing and laid her out on the bedspread. As he joined her, kneeling over her body, she ran her hands up his six-pack and traced his tattoos. So much ink marked him, but it was not the kind that had been added to impress others. Rather, it was to memorialize that which was important to him: What he’d had put into his skin was a map of grief, the birthdates and quotes and images and portraits of those who had been lost on the service forever with him, forever a part of him.
“Don’t go there,” he said roughly. “Don’t look at them.”
He took her hands from the tattoos.
“Stay in the present with me,” he whispered. “Now we’re alive. Now . . . we’re together. I don’t want to waste a second of this if it’s my only chance.”
There was sadness in his voice, and that was a surprise. She had assumed he’d be relieved that what was happening between them was a one-night-only, a secret, a nevermore instead of an evermore.
His reputation with women was not one of longevity, no matter what he’d said in that rehearsal speech.
“Please,” he said. “Stay with me.”
Danny was magnificent as he hung in the air, on the precipice above her, his broad chest rising and falling like he’d been running, his shoulders bunched up, his biceps and veined forearms striated and strong. He was the male animal, and he was ready to mate.
His arousal was obvious behind his fly.
Anne drew him back to her mouth, and his heavy body came willingly, finding a home between her thighs. Rolling her hips against him, she stroked his erection with her core through their slacks, and the growl that came back to her made her feel sexier than any compliment could ever have.
Slipping her hands between them, she freed the button at his waistband and he twisted to the side so she could unzip him.
What shot out at her was thick and hard and hot.
Commando, she should have known. And shit . . . that was erotic.
“Anne, fuck!” he groaned as she circled him with her hand and stroked him.
He didn’t let her get far with that. He grabbed both her wrists, pulled her away and stretched her arms up, pinning them to the mattress.
Dropping his head, he breathed hard as a freight train. “You’re going to make me finish way too early if you keep that up.”
Moaning in the back of her throat, she arched again and he cursed in her ear.
This time, when he kissed her, he didn’t hold back. His lips ground down on her own, and she wanted the passion, she needed him, all of him.
Her slacks were off her next. Then his were all the way gone.
And her panties went flying across the room.
“Condom,” she said. “Do you have—”
“Hold on. I think so. Wait here.”
Danny was usually as coordinated as any athlete, and yet he stumbled as he got off the bed, catching himself on the bureau before he face-planted on the carpet. Over at his bag, he threw shirts and boxers over his shoulder—
“Fuck.”
As he hung his head, she put her hands to her face. She hadn’t expected to have sex, so she certainly didn’t have anything with her. And there were probably condoms down in the gift shop, but if he bought them, it was going to cause talk—
“I only have one.”
Anne exhaled in relief and could have sworn a halo appeared over the bright blue Trojan packet he held out.
And then she looked down his body, his sex standing proud and hard at his hips. “Put it on,” she ordered him. “I want to watch.”
* * *
Yes, ma’am, Danny thought as he stared across at Anne.
She was stretched out on the now-messy duvet, her arms over her head, her breasts tight and ready for more attention, her lower body turned away from him so her spectacular ass was on full display.
Palming himself, he stroked his shaft up and down, giving her a show she clearly appreciated given the way her legs churned.
Then he bit the wrapper, ripped it, and took out the condom.
He prayed he didn’t drop the goddamn thing.
Pinching the top, he put the rolled base over his head and hated the wet, cold feel. But that shit did not last as Anne reached between her thighs and started stroking herself.
“Slow, do it slow . . .” she said.
His erection was so hard, it was like covering a baseball bat, and he watched her watching him until he nearly orgasmed. When he was done, she split her legs.
“Come here.”
Following orders, he got right up on her beautiful body, lying where he had been and never wanted to leave. Then he found the hand that she had been pleasuring herself with and brought those talented fingertips to his lips.
Extending his tongue, he licked her forefinger, then sucked it deep, tasting her, drawing her in and out of his lips.
As she moaned, he drove into her.
Anne called his name out, and he knew he would remember that sound for the rest of his life. And then he didn’t do much more thinking. His body, long denied of what it had craved, took over, finding a rhythm that was so much harder and faster than he wanted.
Thank God for latex. If this had been bareback? He would have come the instant he was in her. As it was, there was a dimming of sensation that, when coupled with his gritted molars and his determination to make sure she came first, pretty much made it possible for him to not find his release.
She did come first.
Hard.
So hard, something bit into his back. Her nails? He didn’t care if it was a wild animal loose from the fucking zoo or an All Hallows’ Eve gremlin attacking him. And he didn’t give two shits if she gored him down to his spine, either.
Slowing his rhythm, he felt the internal contractions of her core and knew he was doing okay. But still he worried. He prayed this was the best sex she ever had.
Because that way, maybe she’d let him in again.
When she finally stilled, he took the back of one of her knees, stretched her leg up, and looked down into her eyes.
“Hold on,” he said. “And I’m sorry this is going to be so rough.”
As she bit her lower lip and moaned, he started to move again.
Harder. Faster.
He wanted to make love to her, but he ended up fucking her to the edge of the bed, her head falling off the mattress, her breasts offered up to him, his mouth trying and failing to find a nipple because he was going wild on top of her.
Stars.
Danny literally saw stars as he came, his balls going tight as his erection went numb—before the top of his head blew off and his vision went Fourth of July.
Loud noise. A wolf growling. Was that coming out of his mouth?
A crash. The lamp on the table?
He didn’t know. He didn’t care.
He was having the orgasm of his life and she was the reason for it.
His beloved Anne.
chapter
11
In the aftermath, as Anne lay underneath Danny’s
heavy body, she wanted to stay in the netherworld they were in forever.
She wanted to be in this warmth and connection, this closeness, this . . . happy quiet, for the rest of her life. Running her hands over his shoulders, she felt the lax muscles under the smooth skin and then she threaded the hair at his nape through her fingers—
Out in the hall, someone shouted something and laughed. Then ran down and back.
It was probably one of the 499 crew. Or Moose and Danny’s fraternity brothers.
The intrusion into their quiet was a harbinger of the reality that waited for them and was not going to go away.
As she thought about Monday morning arriving and her showing up for roll call at the firehouse, she was reminded that gravity didn’t just apply to objects on the earth. It also subjected moods and experiences to its tendency of grounding.
When the sex had been happening, it had been a roar of sensation that had eclipsed everything. Now, as all that receded, everything else became razor sharp and invasive.
More people talked out in the hall. And a toilet flushed in the room above. And her neck was getting stiff because she was hanging off the edge of the bed.
Lifting herself, she saw the top of Danny’s dark head. He was still breathing hard, the muscled carve of his arm blocking out the rest of the room.
“Here, let me move you,” he said.
As he repositioned her with his brute strength, she didn’t want someone to take care of her, think about her needs, anticipate what she required.
And that wasn’t about Danny. That was what her father and mother had taught her the hard way: Anything that was provided by someone other than yourself, whether it was money or position or emotional support, could be, by definition, taken away from you.
“This doesn’t have to be the end,” he said. “We can start something slow . . . see where it takes us.”
Anne closed her eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “I need to go.”
Danny’s body tensed. And then his torso lifted off of her. As his eyes met hers, his face was a mask—and the control suggested she had hurt him. Which, again, was a surprise—but nothing she could dwell on.
It was easy to get caught up in their attraction in the moment, but now the rational part of her brain was taking control again.
He reached between them and held the condom in place as he withdrew. “Yeah. Sure.”
Anne moved out from under him, and she felt like a fool as she looked around in the dark for her underwear. She found her panties on the chair in the corner, draped on the arm, stuck there like they were in an ad for a movie. Or for condoms.
She drew them on with her back to him and then the first tuxedo shirt she came to was his, the voluminous folds testament to how built he was.
Putting that shirt on the chair, she found the right one and cursed at the little buttons. But then she had her slacks on, and everything tucked in, and the jacket in place, and her shoes on.
The entire time, he just lay there with the duvet pulled over his private area, one arm cocked up under his head. He didn’t seem to notice or care that they had scattered the pillows and knocked the lamp over, or that the TV remote had been kicked across the room and was by the bathroom door.
When she had the bow tie in place, she buttoned the single fastening on the jacket.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Anne,” he said in a low voice.
“Yes, it does—”
“Will you cut it out about my reputation? Jesus, at least give me a chance to prove you wrong on that one.”
Anne crossed her arms over her chest. “Even if you were a model of monogamy, it still wouldn’t work.”
“I don’t care what people say down at the four-nine-nine and neither should you.”
“You don’t get it.” She shook her head. “There are rules for firefighters. If we were to get into a relationship—and that is a big ‘if’—I’d have to transfer out of the station.”
“No, you wouldn’t—”
“Yes, I would,” she interrupted. “I checked the regulations. We have a duty to disclose personal relationships, and I have less seniority than you so I’m the one who’d get relocated—and no matter where they sent me, it would be a step down. The four-nine-nine is the best of the best. We get more calls, more emergencies, more alarms than any other house in the city because of where we’re located, and I am not leaving that just to get a boyfriend.”
“So I’ll volunteer to transfer.” He sat up and put a pillow over his lap. “This is only a problem if you see it as one.”
“You’re saying you’d trade being at the top of your game for getting cats out of trees in suburbia? If you think you’d be okay with that, then you’re delusional. You’d hate it and you’d end up resenting me—just like I’d end up resenting you.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Fine, but this is still not happening.” She threw up her hands. “Even if we did split up fire stations, I’d still be looked at differently. It’s hard enough to be a woman in this male-dominated profession. The last thing I need is that speculation in the guys’ eyes, that wonder-if-she’ll-do-me-too look. I’ve worked too hard and come too far to not be taken seriously.”
“So you’ve decided how all this is going to go.”
“And you should be relieved. You only do one-night stands anyway.”
There was a long silence. Then he laid back down and nodded at his duffel bag. “I have a brush,” he said tightly. “You know, for your hair.”
“Oh, right.”
“It’s in with my clothes.”
Stepping over his pants on the floor, she got his brush, ripped it through the tangles they’d created, and put the thing back where she’d found it. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to face him.
Her heart was pounding again, just for a different reason. “So . . .”
“I’ll lie.”
“Excuse me?”
“When they ask me where I was during the reception. I’ll tell them I drank too much and went to bed.”
“You’re not going back down?”
“No, I’m done with all this. The brunch tomorrow morning, too.”
Anne nodded. “Okay. So I’ll see you Monday for roll call.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Anne headed for the door. When she put her hand on the knob, she hesitated. But what else was there to say? She believed him when he said he would tell no one, and told herself it was what she wanted.
“Anne . . . ?”
She looked over her shoulder at him on that bed. There was enough ambient light coming from the window that she could see his half-mast eyes and his extraordinary abs and his powerful legs. His hair was too short to be messy, but he looked well used, all languid and relaxed.
“I’m going to think about you,” he whispered. “You can stop us from ever doing this again, but you can’t control my mind or my dreams.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
He sat forward once more, those shoulders she had held onto rising from the bed. “Don’t you know you’re different to me, Anne? You’ve always been different.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Her heart bucked behind her ribs. But she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Danny. It’s better that we just . . . go our separate ways.”
His head lowered. Then he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s the way it has to be.”
“All right. I’ll respect your decision.”
Sadness settled on her, a tangible weight, and she left before that pall made her say something or do something that—well, hell, she’d already slept with the guy, so it was hard to think of what else she could do to complicate things.
Walking off down the hotel corridor toward the elevators, she started out with purpose and stride, but that faded, her footfalls slowing. Then stopping.
Halfway to her goal and her escape, she wondered why she was being
such a coward. Danny had the courage of a lion, the strength of four men, he made her laugh and made her think—
And the sex had been the best she’d ever had.
Why was she letting this go just because she was scared? That was a girl move, not a woman move—
The door to her left opened and Duff stepped out—then stopped like he’d hit a brick wall. The resident 499 hottie was in street clothes and had an unlit stogie in his hand.
“Anne? What are you doing up here?”
“Nothing. I’m not—I’m not here, I mean, I had to get something from—I got a room up here, too. I’m a groomsmen, remember?”
Just one of the guys, she thought as they started walking together.
“Oh, sure, yeah.” Duff put an arm around her. “Come on, let’s go down to the party together. I just had to get out of that penguin suit. You want a smoke? We got more of these to share.”
“Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll head home.”
“Canning it so soon? What a lightweight.” But he gave her a squeeze. “We’ll miss you.”
When they got to the elevators, he hit the “down” button, and after a moment, the double doors opened. As they stepped inside, the guy was talking about something, but Anne couldn’t follow the words.
She was too busy staring down that corridor, praying Danny didn’t come out looking like he’d just had sex.
“You all right, Anne?” Duff asked.
Anne rubbed at an ache in the center of her chest. Then, in true firefighter fashion, she said, “I’m fine. I’m great. Just great . . .”
The doors began to trundle shut. Just before they closed, Danny stepped out of his room. As his eyes lifted, they looked at each other across the vast distance that separated them.
And that was when Anne knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no matter what she was telling herself now, or how resolved she was to keep things professional . . .
. . . they were not done with each other yet.
Not by a long shot.
Keep reading for an exciting excerpt of Book One in J. R. Ward’s First Responders series
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