Hot Nights with the Fireman

by Lynne Silver

  He barely seemed to see her legs. Her nasty calves with the pink and red puckered scars running the length. “Jason?” she tried.

  “That’s how your mom died?” The words flew from his lips like bullets.

  She nodded. “Today was the anniversary of her death. I was at the cemetery with my parents, and seeing them made me realize I needed to come talk to you and to try to explain.”

  Jason scowled. She sat back on the couch, starting to feel awkward with her legs exposed and dangling in front of them. Quietly she tucked them under her body, sitting cross-legged on his sofa. He still hadn’t seemed to see them, and her self-consciousness about them rose.

  Jason rose and paced the room.

  “Jason?”

  He whirled back to her. “You were burned in a fire, yet you were brave enough to date me? And you think you owe me a fucking explanation.” He strode over to her and knelt on the carpet in front of her. “Baby, you owe me nothing.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Her throat got thick and her eyes got watery, but she had to know more before she relaxed her guard. “Jason?”

  “Yeah.” He looked her in the eye. Knelt on the ground as he was, his face was only inches from hers.

  “You haven’t said anything about the scars. Are you…okay with them?” She heard and felt the quaver in her voice from trying to talk over her held-back tears.

  His lips pursed as he looked down and moved the hand covering her leg. “Not to diminish your pain, but I’ve seen worse. How do you feel about them? Given that you keep them covered, I’m guessing you hate them.” His tone was matter-of-fact, which helped her.

  “I—I do. I can’t stand looking at them. And I’m finding it hard to believe you can look at them and not cringe.”

  “You do whatever you want with them in public. If it makes you feel better to cover them, then fine. But around me, don’t bother. You’re as beautiful to me now as you’ve always been. Maybe more.” He leaned in to kiss her lips. Her body went statue still for a moment before she pulled back.

  “But you’re a firefighter.”

  “Yeah.” He nibbled at her chin.

  “And I’m a burn victim.”

  “And there’s a good chance I’ll be one, too, before I retire. Or I’ll get lung cancer.”

  She flattened her hand against his chest. “That doesn’t bother you? How dangerous your job is? Looking at me is like a warning sign of what could happen to you. I’ve lived with these scars for years, Jason. I know they’re not pretty. And that’s why I haven’t slept with anyone since my college boyfriend. When he broke up with me our senior year, he finally admitted my scars grossed him out and always wanted them covered in bed. It stopped me from letting anyone else close enough to see them. I hid behind my work. So don’t try to shrug it off and say they don’t bother you. It has to.”

  Jason leaned back against his coffee table and looked up at Valerie, who sat curled into herself on his couch. He knew he had to handle this carefully. One wrong word would send his girl fleeing. She’d trusted him enough to show him her scars. He couldn’t ignore them or pretend they didn’t matter when they clearly mattered deeply to her.

  “Valerie,” he said slowly, thinking on the fly. “Are you trying to chase me away? Or not get back together?”

  “Chase you away? No. God no. I showed you my burns and told you my story because I’m hoping we can give this another try, and I want to start with truth. I won’t let you down again.”

  He pulled back to take her cheeks in his palms. Her teary, splotchy face met his gaze. She’d never looked more beautiful.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer, and simply bent to kiss her.

  His chest gave a little happy thump at her mention of them trying again. “You’re worried I’m going to run out on you like your asshole college boyfriend did? And you want to preempt that.”

  The soles of her feet hit the carpet in front of him as she prepared to escape. He grabbed her ankle and maneuvered her back to the couch. “Listen to me, Val. I was falling in love with you. Your scars don’t bother me. You are so much more than a few burn marks.” They stared at each other, but he could tell she wasn’t drinking his Kool-Aid. He tried again. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “What? Why would you ask me that?” Her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

  “It’s a reasonable question. I told you I have learning disabilities. I will never be able to hold a white-collar job. I don’t really fit into your Ivy League world. You are smarter than me. Does that bother you?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer. It came quickly.

  “That’s ridiculous. Just because I’m good at school-type things doesn’t make me smarter than you. You do all sorts of things in your job that I can’t begin to know how to do.”

  “Physical things. Not book things.”

  “So?”

  “So my learning disability, which could be looked at as scars, doesn’t bother you. Please give me the same courtesy of believing your scars don’t bother me.” It took a long minute until a smile spread her lips.

  “You’re not bothered?”

  He shook his head.

  “You think I’m beautiful?”

  Big nod. “You think I’m smart?”

  Her turn to nod.

  “You’re not going to ditch me for a law professor in a tweed suit?”

  She grinned. “I can’t predict the future. I do have a thing for tweed.”

  He tugged her off the couch. “C’mere.” She straddled him and brought her lips to his, and he immediately thought of them naked in bed doing dirty, dirty things to each other. Only this time there was an openness to Valerie, a freeness he hadn’t missed before because he hadn’t realized how much of herself she was hiding. That night, they would let it all hang out.

  They finally made it to his bedroom. Her shoes flew into a corner with a well-executed kick. Her pants dropped off her seductively and were left in a small heap on the carpet by the bed.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jason yanking at his shirt with his cast-enclosed wrist and unbuttoning his jeans with his other hand. “Let me help.” She sauntered totally nude over to him and reached to pull the shirt up over his head.

  “Sexy,” Jason murmured, leaning down and teasing his tongue over her nipples. She backed up to the bed and he followed, still teasing her with his mouth. She reached to unbutton the thick metal buttons lined in a row down his crotch. Each one undone revealed the thin white underwear he wore underneath. His defined pectorals clenched. He was the sexy one, and he didn’t realize how much, which made him a million times sexier.

  He shucked his jeans down to his ankles and stepped out of them. Every long inch of his erection was visible in his tight boxer briefs.

  She ran a fingernail over the stretched fabric and he visibly shuddered. “Off,” she ordered.

  “You’re bossy. I like it. Is this the real you? No more hiding?” He lost the rest of his clothing and scooped her up to toss her gently on the bed. “Now stop ordering me around or those stockings you used to hide your legs are going to be tying you to my bed.”

  “Not around my mouth to shut me up?” she teased.

  “Nah. I have plans for that mouth.” His strong body pushed her into the mattress as his mouth came down over hers. Their tongues danced while their hands glided over each other’s bodies. He brought her bliss, joy. She hoped she gave him the same. In fact, she felt bursting with joy. She’d revealed everything to Jason, and he’d accepted her. Scars and all.

  She couldn’t stop running her hands all over his skin as if she couldn’t touch him enough, couldn’t get close enough to him. She wanted him under her skin.

  When his fingers found their way between her thighs, she moaned. She was wet and aching at his touch, and he’d barely started. Their kisses remained intense as his fingers started to match his rhythm.

  “Jason,” she managed to gasp out when his lips moved to her ne
ck and clavicle. She wanted to touch him as intimately as he touched her, and reached with one hand between their bodies to where she felt the press of his hard cock against her belly.

  His hips swiveled and he moved out of her reach. “Uh-uh.”

  For the first time ever, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him back down to lie on top of her. She lost her inhibitions about his feeling her scars on his back and realized she’d never felt this good and open during sex before. As good as it had been with him before, tonight was a million times better because her fear was completely gone. She wasn’t hiding anything.

  “You’re torturing me,” she groaned, flinging a palm across her forehead, but his mouth kept going kissing and nibbling at her nipples. “Where are you going?” She sat up on her elbows when Jason abandoned her to stand by the bed.

  “C’mere.” He crooked a finger on his healthy hand. “I’m having trouble holding myself up on one arm.”

  Good answer. She scooted over to sit on her knees in front of him. His hard cock pointed directly at her sternum and she leaned over to suck him into her mouth, rewarded with his groan. She’d missed his taste almost as much as she’d missed him. His hand threaded through her hair, bringing her closer then gently pushing her back.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said softly. Since she wanted the same, she pulled back.

  “Turn around,” he ordered.

  She gave him a quizzical glance, but obeyed.

  “On your hands and knees.” His large palm flattened over her spine as he helped her into this fantasy position. She’d never done this before. Her ass and more were completely exposed to him. The sound of foil ripping had her turning back.

  “No. Turn. Around.” She shivered at the gritty quality of his voice, thick with desire.

  Her whole body gave an involuntary quiver at the domination and desire she heard in the order. And then his hands were on her hips, tugging her back into position, while the tip of his penis breached her damp passage.

  Jason slid fully into her until his body rested against her ass. He felt enormous inside her. The position made her aware of every inner muscle and nerve ending, and it seemed his cock touched each one, especially as he pulled out then pushed his way back in.

  “Oh,” she cried out.

  “Okay?” he asked, slowing his thrusts.

  “I…yes. I’ve never done it like this before,” she confessed. It was more than the position that felt new. Everything tonight felt fresh and new. “I feel you more like this. Is it the same for you?”

  “Uh-huh,” he grunted out, sliding in then out. Her hips were grasped firmly in his hands, and he pushed and pulled her in counterpoint to his thrusts. “Play with yourself, Val. I want to feel you come.”

  It took her a minute to understand what he was asking her to do, but by this time his forceful thrusts electrified her body to the point he could’ve asked her to do anything and she would’ve begged for it.

  Balanced on one slightly shaky arm, she reached between their joined bodies to find her point of pleasure and do as ordered. The minute her fingertip found her clit, she lost her balance and collapsed onto her front. Jason maintained their connection and followed her down, never stopping his thrusting. Now his fingers squeezed between the mattress and her body to cover her fingers and roughly massage her swollen bead.

  When she was close to coming, she crawled forward and rolled onto her back, scooting down the bed until her bottom was at the edge. “I want to see you,” she said.

  “Same.” He angled himself to penetrate her again, only this time the sexy games were gone. Now, face-to-face, eyes wide open, they made love to each other. Their pace slowed as their bodies undulated, less about seeking a culmination and more about finding connection.

  For long moments, he slid slowly in and out of her as she moved in counterpoint.

  “Missed this,” he murmured over the sound of their bodies sliding over the sheets.

  “I missed you,” she said. Her words seemed to trigger something in Jason, who grabbed her thigh with his good hand and increased his tempo. Thrust after thrust he rocked into her body until her body broke apart, and she lost herself to an endless ever-growing orgasm that seemed to encompass her entire body.

  “Jason,” she cried.

  “I’ve got you, baby.” The tenderness with which he held her as the tiny quakes echoed through her trembling body brought tears to her eyes. She clutched at his shoulders, trying to convey with her lips how necessary he was in her life.

  Jason quickly followed with his own peaked pleasure and gave a final thrust before collapsing onto the mattress, half lying over her. They reclined, breathing hard on the bed for long moments trying to recover, before Jason crawled fully into bed, pulling her next to him.

  They didn’t speak, there was no need; their lovemaking had said it all. He was hers, and she was it for him for all their future nights.

  About the Author

  Romance author Lynne Silver writes the popular Coded for Love series and other hot contemporary romance novels, such as Two for Love and Love, Technically. Before writing romance, she wrote fiction of a different sort, drafting press releases for technology corporations. Washington, DC, is her home (non) state, where she resides with her husband and two sons.

  Learn more at:

  LynneSilver.com

  Twitter, @LynneSilver

  Facebook.com/LynneSilverAuthor

  Turn the page for a preview of the next book in the sexy Alpha Heroes series,

  In Bed with the Bodyguard.

  Available Fall 2015

  Chapter One

  Last summer if you’d told Arianna Rose she’d be walking alone through her Georgetown neighborhood on a sultry Saturday night, she would’ve laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the forecast. And then gone on to flirt with the bartender for another free drink, because Arianna Rose didn’t do alone on a weekend. For that matter, she wasn’t often spotted alone on any night of the week. But times change and people change. Which was why Ari was strolling solo up the incline of Wisconsin Avenue, past the Apple Store toward the art gallery she called home. Her life had changed.

  Not everything had changed; she still didn’t cook. A grocery sack full of the essentials—wine, take-out sushi, more wine, and bottled water—filled her arms and made navigating the brick sidewalk in her ubiquitous stilettos tricky. A lesser woman would’ve turned an ankle by now, and Ari might also if a cute guy was nearby and available to help with the grocery bag. But for now, she enjoyed her walk through the twilight and used the time to mentally make a to-do list for the upcoming gallery show.

  She paused for a moment when she was about a block from home.

  “Hi, Sam, your favorite Delivery Diva is here,” she said, forcing a smile on her face for the benefit of a man who never returned the gesture and was wrapped in a blanket, despite the sweltering summer heat.

  A narrow brown eye peeped out at her. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

  Skirting to the side of the overly stuffed, torn duffel bag, Ari reached into her grocery bag and pulled out a take-out container. “BLT on wheat.” Gently she set the container down.

  “Prefer white,” came the usual gruff answer.

  “Wheat’s healthier. You’re welcome,” she called, straightening and turning to leave.

  “Something going on up there,” Sam said and jerked his head toward the direction of her place. “Looks like your place. Better go see.” Oh, now he smiled in the face of possible disaster.

  “Thanks.” Roughly five feet from her gallery, she stopped to heft the bag higher and peer at a crowd clustered around her front window. What was going on?

  She pushed her way through the throng to her front door but stopped in horror. Her gallery. The glass from her big picture window lay in a million sharp shards all over the sidewalk like glittering fairy dust. The gathered crowd murmured and peered into her shop.

  “What happened? Who did this?” She grabbed the
shoulder of a boy wearing a navy Georgetown hoodie. “Did you see who did this?” she said on a wild accusation.

  “Nope. I was walking by when I saw the damage.” He looked at her with interest and sudden insight. “Is this your place?”

  She nodded blindly, no longer looking at Joe Hoya college boy. Were her paintings okay? Her precious canvases? It would be terrible to have to call her artists and explain that their babies were damaged.

  “Damn, you better call the police.” He whistled and strolled off down the hill.

  He was right. This was an act of vandalism. Or terrorism, and any other ism she could think of. “Excuse me.” Ari pushed by two other gawkers to her door. A quick turn of her key, and she entered her gallery able to see the damage more clearly. She spun on one heel feeling tremors begin to climb up her spine. Most paintings looked safe enough, but blood-red spray paint slashed across her favorite painting of a lush modern view of a garden.

  “Not Club Lily.” The grocery bag lowered to the wooden floor with a loud thunk. The words defacing the canvas barely registered. Her hands shook as she pulled out her cell phone to dial 911.

  Thirty endless minutes later, two men in blue stood, pads in hand, taking in her scene of destruction. The crowd outside had dispersed, but as it was Georgetown on a Saturday night, there was a constant stream of gawkers and, of course, a lot of flashes as strangers clicked photos on their cell phones. Great, with her luck of late, she’d end up trending on social media. Had they never seen vandalism before?

  “Okay, Ms. Rose. I think we have everything we need.” Officer Reese shut his notebook with a snap.

  “That’s it?” Ari asked. “How soon until you make an arrest?”

  The officers exchanged a look, and the younger, almost handsome one turned to her. “It’s unlikely an arrest will be made.”

  “What…what do you mean? Didn’t you get fingerprints? Is there DNA on the painting?” They had to find the culprits. Someone had to pay for their despicable crime.