…
Erik had no idea what the fuck had come over him. Wasn’t he just thinking about how he wasn’t down with the empty one-night stands anymore? Apparently his dick hadn’t gotten the memo. Then again, one night or not, something told him that a night with this woman would feel anything but empty.
A cab rushed by them, the burst of wind lifting the ends of her hair and reminding him they were still standing next to her tiny car on the edge of traffic, intermittent though it may be. “Come on, let’s get out of the street,” he said, leading her around the Mini and onto the sidewalk in front of the liquor store. Out of habit, he positioned her with her back to the brick facade and his to the street so that he stood between her and any possible harm. “What d’you say, gorgeous, want to get to know each other better?”
She shook her head. “Getting-to-know-you stuff is for dates.”
“My version doesn’t involve dinner or talking. At least not the clean kind,” he amended with a crooked grin.
“So, what then, drinks and dirty talk?” she asked in a husky voice.
Erik barely bit back his groan. Damn, she smelled incredible. Like rose petals bathed in sunlight, subtle and natural. Completely opposite of the harsh perfumes most women doused themselves in. Erik wanted to bury his face in her neck and fill his lungs with her scent. “Sweetheart, I’m offering whatever you want. Name it.”
She arched a dubious brow that added to her sarcastic tone. “And I suppose I should just assume you’re not some kind of serial killer, is that it?”
Offering a reassuring grin, he said, “I can promise you I’m not a serial killer.”
He’d almost said he wasn’t “a killer,” but that would be a lie. He was a killer. He’d killed more times than he could count. The fact that it’d all been in combat didn’t absolve him. At least not for all of it. Hindsight was a motherfucker.
She chewed on the corner of her lip and studied him, her wheels turning. “How about a knight in shining armor? After all, you did rescue me in my hour of need.”
He huffed out a cynical sound before he could bite it back. “Don’t think I qualify. My armor hasn’t been shiny for a long fucking time.”
“Okay then, what are you?” she asked, canting her head to the side.
Her eyes told him she wasn’t asking about what he did for a living or what his astrological sign was. She was digging for something deeper, something to help her understand him. But there was only one thing he wanted her to understand right now: that he was exactly what she needed in this moment. If he had to play a little dirty to drive his point home, then so be it.
Erik stepped into her so her sex brushed teasingly against the hard muscle of his thigh. He placed one hand on her hip as the other threaded into the thick hair at the nape of her neck, then he spoke low into her ear. “I’m a man who can make you feel like a real woman. A man who will make it impossible to focus on anything but me and the wicked hot things I’m doing to you.”
Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly with a sharp inhale as a blush bloomed on her cheeks. And then she did the most unexpected thing.
She fucking smiled.
The full kind that lit up her eyes and stopped a man’s heart, and he was no exception. Something about her—beyond her incredible sex appeal—intrigued the hell out of him. She definitely wasn’t the one-night stand kind of woman, and yet a string of bad dates had left her jaded enough to consider it. Her comment on the phone had been flippant and most definitely a joke. But that smile told him he might have crossed her path at just the right time. The universe had created the perfect storm—a series of shitty events that led them to this moment, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try everything he could to make this night memorable for both of them.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She shook her head. “No names.”
“You don’t have to worry about me looking you up or showing up at your place of business, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not looking to make anything more out of this than you are.”
“I believe you.”
“Then what’s the harm with exchanging names?”
She lifted a slim shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “In my profession, I can’t take that risk.”
He could understand that. “We can use fake names.”
She didn’t answer immediately, seeming to give his idea some thought, but then she shook her head slightly. “I don’t know…”
Erik cupped her jaw and stroked the corner of her mouth with his thumb, imagining how it would feel to press his lips there. “I can turn this night around for the both of us. I only have three conditions. One: since your place is out of the question, and you no doubt won’t feel comfortable coming to mine, we’ll go to a hotel—and nothing seedy or questionable, I mean a nice fucking hotel—and you’ll text the information to a friend so someone knows where you are. Two: you will give me a fake name because not having something to call you, even in my own head, is frustrating as hell.”
He could see the wheels turning in her head as she weighed her options of giving in or arguing. Softening his tone, he tipped her chin up and said, “Come on, gorgeous. I’d rather you give me a name, but I’ll call you Goldilocks if I have to.”
She sighed and he knew she’d given in. “Livvie. You can call me Livvie.”
“I like that. Thank you, Livvie.” He brought her hand up and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “You can call me Wolf. That’s what my friends call me.”
“Wolf.” She said it softly, as though trying it out on her lips, and it stirred something primal deep in his gut.
“That’s right, baby.” Erik bowed his head and spoke low into her ear. “I’ll make you come harder than you ever thought possible, and when I do, I want it to be my name that you scream and no one else’s.” He nipped her earlobe, making her gasp. “Not even God’s.”
Her shaky exhale bathed his cheek, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He pulled back just enough to watch the play of arousal over her features. Fuck, he wanted her more than he could remember wanting a woman in a long damn time. Her ample chest heaved with her quick breaths and her pupils swallowed her hazel irises. He hadn’t held out much hope, but his lady in red was turned on as all hell, and it made him wonder what would really get her going in the bedroom.
When it came to sex, Erik loved it all, but his true tastes had always leaned a little on the rougher side. Scratching, biting, hair pulling, it was all fair game for his partners. The pain reminded him he was alive, and some days he needed it more than others—days like today. Which was why he was surprised to realize he didn’t care how things went tonight, so long as it happened with this woman. He wasn’t imagining the chemistry between them. He’d bet his beloved truck that if he dipped his fingers beneath her panties, he’d find her slick and hot for him.
“H-how did you get the name Wolf?”
Peering up at her through his lashes, he raised an eyebrow in challenge. “That’s a get-to-know-you question, sweetheart. I’m happy to answer, but…”
She shook her head like she was trying to rattle things into place. “No, you’re right, don’t answer that. Wolf it is. If I agree to this, what’s your third condition?”
“Number three is…” He paused for a beat. “Trust me.”
Her brows drew together. “With?”
His gaze lowered to her succulent mouth, a hundred images of what he could do it flashing through his mind. “Your pleasure,” he said gruffly. “I’m going to set your body on fire with sex so carnal and electric it makes you feel alive. I’ll use my mouth, my hands, and my cock to fuck your tight little body just as my words will fuck your mind.”
“Jesus,” she whispered, her head dropping back to the wall as her lids lowered to half-mast.
“Not even close.” Leaning in, he kept his mouth only a breath away from hers as he spoke. “I’m a man who knows how to read your body and the signals it’s giving me. I can give you what you want—wh
at you need—but you have to trust me.”
Unable to stop himself, he grazed his lips over hers. It couldn’t even be considered a kiss. Just a ghostly brush, a brief interruption of what little was left in the space of propriety between them—the space he desperately wanted to obliterate for at least the next twelve hours.
“So what do you say, gorgeous…do we get our night together?”
She touched her tongue to her bottom lip as though she could taste him there, then dragged it between her teeth. Goddamn, she tested his will like no woman ever had. His dick stood at full attention and strained against the fly of his jeans as it throbbed in time with his racing heartbeat.
Finally, a sweet smile curved her lush mouth and she answered with a confident, “Yes.”
Chapter Three
Olivia stood in the lobby of the upscale hotel while Wolf—she was still curious how he acquired the nickname—rented them a room for their agreed upon single night of anonymous sexual abandon. She hadn’t stood a chance the second Wolf spoke to her. How the hell was a girl supposed to keep her wits about her under the attention of so much maleness?
After uncharacteristically agreeing to this arrangement, they decided on a hotel and she followed him in her car. On the way, she called her best friend again, but it went to voicemail. Olivia had left a message with a quick rundown of the situation and the hotel info, then promised to call her in the morning to let her know she was okay, which would inevitably turn into an interrogation for details.
Picturing the look on Angie’s face when she finally listened to the message made Olivia chuckle to herself. The two women were opposite in almost every way, yet somehow complemented each other perfectly. She’d loved Angie from the first, when Olivia was enjoying her lunch in the commons at Boston College and saw the fiery Latina lay into a guy twice her size for making a lewd comment about her curvy ass. The guy’s arrogance had shriveled faster than his nuts dipped in ice water, and after he apologized to her for being “a misogynistic pig” (apology script supplied by none other than Angie herself), he walked away in silence and gave her a wide berth from then on.
Olivia had been so impressed, she’d started a slow clap to a standing O, to which Angie responded with a deep curtsy and an introduction. They’d been best friends ever since, and Olivia never stopped admiring Angie for her strong sense of self and the fearless way she handled life.
Angie was going to have conniptions when she heard that her straight-laced, overly cautious friend agreed to a one-night stand with a handsome stranger on a whim. It certainly wasn’t anything she’d ever do under normal circumstances, much less the one she’d been in for the past two years.
It had taken her a long time to move on from the marriage she no longer had—from the life she no longer had without Brett—but she’d finally started to actively date a few months ago. Lord knows she’d been on plenty since. Some, like tonight, were total busts, and some were decent with a handful going on to second and third dates. Unfortunately, they never made it further than that. Even the ones that made it that far were only because she was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. It certainly wasn’t from any sort of mutual connection or spark, and after so many failed attempts, Olivia couldn’t help wonder if she wasn’t the problem, not the men.
She hadn’t realized how utterly exhausting the dating game would be. For the last couple of weeks, her heart hadn’t been in it, and tonight’s earlier disaster had been the last straw. She needed a good, long break from it all, and with the way she felt, it might be a permanent one. If she didn’t already have a job she loved, looking into joining a convent wouldn’t be a bad idea. That’s how much she didn’t want to go on any more dates right now.
But that’s not what this is, she thought as her gaze landed on Wolf and drank in the subtle rippling of the muscles in his back. No, this is something entirely different. Erotic and carnal with a hint of wrongness that spread through her and sizzled beneath her skin. It was exciting and thrilling and nerve-racking all at once, and she loved it.
Tonight, she’d reconnect with the young, vivacious woman she used to be. Tonight, in a hotel room, Olivia and a stranger would engage in no-name sex with no possible future. And tomorrow morning, she would have her proof that it was possible to move on after nursing a broken heart for so long, and that she could in fact connect with another man, even if only sexually. Or maybe especially sexually.
Wolf turned from the front desk and suddenly she felt like her geeky high school self, watching in nervous anticipation as the captain of the football team steadily approached her. Only this man was ten times more intimidating with his predatory gait and the raw hunger she saw swirling in his whiskey-colored eyes.
Coming to a stop in front of her, he held up a plastic key card. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice deep and hypnotic.
Squaring her shoulders to inject more confidence into her spine than she currently felt, she smiled and answered, “Absolutely.”
They walked to the elevators, waited in silence, then boarded the car and leaned against opposite walls as the doors slid closed. As they began to ascend, he studied her as though she were one of life’s great mysteries.
Why did she feel like he could see right through her? And why the hell couldn’t she read him? It was her damn job. After a few minutes of conversation with people, she could classify them and write a fairly accurate report on who they were and likely why. But for the life of her, she couldn’t get a bead on this man. He was…enigmatic. A mystery. A puzzle. Fun and flirtatious, but with an edge, like he wouldn’t shy away from danger, he’d welcome it.
So completely different from Brett in every way. Wolf was dark and massive with tanned skin and amber eyes, whereas Brett’s physique had been more streamlined—less muscular and more toned, like a runner—with a blond hair/brown eyes combo. Brett had always been the life of the party and center of attention wherever they went, and more often than not, she wouldn’t even see him until the end of the night at get-togethers with friends or family. He was like a politician, making the rounds and over-selling his excitement to see them. Though she couldn’t be sure, something told her that if Wolf had a woman, she’d never leave his sight, even if he was on the other side of the room. He had that intensity about him.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Busted. This wasn’t exactly the time for deep thoughts, but she didn’t see a reason not to be honest. “About how opposite you are from my ex.”
Wolf crossed the elevator and crowded her in the most wonderful way. She stared at the glorious triangle of bare skin where his top button had been relieved of its duty. If she stared into his eyes right now, she’d end up as a puddle on the marble floor.
“How opposite?” he rasped, tempting her to lick a path over his sexy Adam’s apple.
“Polar,” she whispered.
He placed one hand on the wall high above her head and the other on the side of her face. Olivia couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, his touch jamming the signals to her brain. “Is that a good thing?”
God, she wished she knew. “I honestly don’t know.”
Slipping his wide thumb from her cheek, he hooked it under her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. Seriously, it should be illegal for a man—especially one so rugged and wild and huge—to have eyes as beautiful as his. If she took a picture of him and erased everything but his eyes, she’d bet ten to one that people would guess they belonged to a woman. And yet when seen with the rest of him, they didn’t look the least bit feminine. Explanation? Paul Bunyan had miracle eyes.
“You trying to get over this ex of yours?”
“You could say that.”
“That’s why you’ve been going on all these dates.”
Olivia swallowed thickly. “I don’t want to think about the past anymore.”
She didn’t know if she meant her marriage with Brett or her recent dating mishaps, but the statement applied either way. Olivia only wanted to focus o
n the present, with this man; to live in this moment and all the ones after it until their one night came to an end. That’s what she needed from Wolf.
“Then I’m going to help you forget.” His thumb trailed over her chin, under the edge of her lower lip, the slow caress entrancing her. She swore he was about to kiss her, but then the chime signaled their floor and he pulled away.
He ushered her out and down the hall, his large hand always at her lower back. She didn’t know if he did it as a way of steering her or for reassurance, or maybe he did it with all women who walked next to him. Whatever the reason, the presence of his hand quieted her nerves a little, and at this point, she’d take what comfort she could get.
He stopped in front of room 1610 and held her gaze, tense and still like a predator waiting to pounce or back down to hunt another day. “If you want to back out, tell me now, Livvie.”
Chills of anticipation broke out over her skin. “I don’t want to back out.”
His nostrils flared the slightest bit as he pushed out a breath and gave her a slight nod of acceptance. Eyes still locked on hers, his hand ran the key card through the slot in the handle and then he held the door open for her.
Olivia stepped into a short hallway that led to the bathroom on the left and a closet on the right. In front of her, she saw the end of the bed on the left side of the room and an expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows.
That was all she had time to notice.
She heard the lock click over just before he grabbed her around the waist and pushed her back against the wall. His large hands came up to frame her face as he crushed his mouth onto hers, his tongue sweeping inside to demand its due.
Olivia clutched at the sides of his shirt as she met every ounce of his intensity with her own. He angled her head more and she reveled in his heady taste of mint and pure virility, stronger than anything she’d experienced before.
They wrenched apart, taking in greedy gasps of air. “Turn around,” he said. She faced the wall, then he stretched her arms above her head. “Keep your hands there,” he rasped next to her ear.
Hot for the Fireman Page 3