by Tawna Fenske
Kayla laughed, a sound that morphed into a soft cry as he slid his tongue along her seam. “Oh, God!”
He meant to go slowly, to take his time kissing his way up her thighs or along her pubic bone. But now that he’d tasted her, he couldn’t get enough. Gripping her hips, he drew his tongue through her wetness, filling his senses. She tasted like heaven. Like heaven and sunshine and everything he loved most in the world.
Stop it. Don’t get carried away.
He ordered himself to focus—to keep his mind on the goal. He was getting her off, not falling for her again.
Circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, he felt her arch up against him and cry out. “More?” He did it again, sucking the soft bud between his lips.
“Oh, fuck—Tony, don’t stop.”
He wouldn’t dream of it. All he could think of was making her come, feeling her explode in his mouth. He licked into her, flattening his tongue the way she always used to love. She bucked against him as he held her hips and stroked her, circling quicker now. He remembered this like the steps for jumping out of a plane. The tightness of her body; the rhythm of her soft panting.
When she tensed, he knew what came next. The flood of her arousal, the arching of her back. He slipped a hand between her thighs and pressed two fingers inside her, gently grazing her clit with his teeth.
She cried out, throwing her head back as she screamed. The walls of her sex clenched around him, pulsing with a rhythm he felt deep in his own bones. He kept licking, moving in time with the tight pulse of her body.
At last, he felt her go boneless. He licked her one last time, then moved up her body to draw her against him. It was a natural instinct, the urge to kiss his way up her hip, over her navel where her shirt had ridden up. The top of one breast, then the other, and then—
“Two minutes and twenty-three seconds.” She laughed and sat up, brushing the hair off her face. “I’m kidding. I wasn’t timing you, but fuck, that was fast.”
“At your service, madam.” He did a silly little bow, grateful she’d stopped him from turning this into a cuddle session. For crying out loud, they weren’t a couple.
Still beaming, she leaned over to grab her leggings. “You’re amazing at that,” she said as she rolled off the bed. “You can practice on me anytime.”
“I thought you said I don’t need the practice?”
She flashed him a smile as she wriggled into the leggings. “Well. Gotta keep the skills sharp or you’ll lose them, right?”
“True.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth, still tasting her as he sat back against the headboard, and watched her shuffle toward the bathroom. “That was fun.”
“That was more than fun.” She laughed. “That was otherworldly.”
“Maybe I could get a letter of recommendation?”
“My pleasure.” Her laughter bounced off the bathroom walls as she pulled the door behind her.
The instant it clicked closed, Tony felt his smile slip. The idea of being with another woman lodged sharp and painful between his ribs like an ax blade. He didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Kayla.
And not just the sex—everything. He wanted to hold her. Just pull her against his chest and stroke her hair and listen to her breathing against him.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
The water was running in the bathroom, and he ordered himself to get it together. To show her he could handle this. That he meant what he’d said about casual touching meaning nothing at all. Nothing had changed; not really. They were still best friends who happened to get hot for each other sometimes. No big deal.
As the water shut off, he forced the edges of his mouth back into a smug smile. Ordered his stupid heart to stop hammering against his ribs.
He took a breath, and Kayla’s scent filled his senses, sending his heart into overdrive all over again.
He was so screwed.
Chapter Eight
Kayla held out the package of Oreos, offering him another one.
“Thanks.” Tony grabbed two and twisted the top off one of them as the end credits rolled on Trainwreck.
As he licked the filling from the Oreo, Kayla struggled to keep her brain from picturing exactly where his mouth had been just hours ago. God, that felt amazing.
But nothing had changed. Everything was fine.
As she watched the credits roll, she wondered if she should say anything. Holy wow, the man had skills. Tony always had a talent for that, but she hadn’t remembered it being quite that amazing. The talent, the knowledge of female anatomy—those were the things he’d dazzled her with a year ago.
But whatever had happened in this hotel room was something else.
Tony flicked off the remote and turned to smile at her. “I liked it.”
She was still stuck on the oral sex, so it took her a second to get it. “The movie? Yeah, it’s pretty good.”
“Not like Crazy, Stupid, Love, but it was funny. Kinda makes you think.”
She turned her full attention on him now. “About what?”
He shrugged, eyes darting away for a moment before landing back on her face. “I guess it makes sense that anyone who’s not big on committing would have reasons for it.”
Kayla held her breath, waiting for him to elaborate. In the movie, Amy Schumer’s character had grown up with a father insisting monogamy wasn’t possible. What was Tony’s reason?
When he didn’t say anything, she touched the back of his hand. “You don’t talk much about your parents,” she said. “Your father—what was he like?”
“I don’t know.” His voice caught on the last syllable, and he cleared his throat. “I hardly remember him. He left when I was just a kid, and my brother—” Another hitch there. “My brother was a baby.”
“I see.” She searched his eyes, waiting for more. “That must have been really hard.”
“Yeah, it sucked.” He sighed. “My mom was pretty broken up about it.”
“I can imagine.” She hesitated, not sure how much to press. “Did she ever remarry?”
Something flashed in his eyes. A dark, electric fire that made her jerk back. Or maybe it was the edge to his voice. “Yeah,” he growled. “She did.”
Oh. Kayla licked her lips, not sure what to say. Her antennae were tingling, telling her to tread carefully. That she was moving close to territory he’d guard fiercely.
Maybe she should change the subject.
“Still think you’re a bad boyfriend?” she asked slowly. “Or are you coming around to my theory?”
He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read. “I keep forgetting there’s a bet. I honestly don’t know who’s winning.”
She didn’t, either. Maybe neither of them.
“What if—” She stopped herself, not sure how to phrase this. “What if neither of us is right? What if it’s something else?”
His eyes flashed again. “What do you mean?”
Again, she got the sense she was moving down a dark pathway. Time to redirect. “Just thinking about my own issues,” she said. “Like how I really, really want to get married. Not just married, but to the right guy.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, nodding a little. “Nothing wrong with that. I hope you find that.”
She ignored the tight pinch in her chest and kept going. “I want a husband and kids, and I am insanely, horribly jealous that all three of my sisters already found that,” she said. “Don’t you think that makes me an awful person?”
“What? Jesus, no.” He shook his head. “You’re the best person I know.”
“I’m not, though.” She looked down into her lap, willing him to understand. “I never visit. I let them down all the time because I’m too selfish to put myself through the pain of seeing everyone else have the thing I want. That, and the embarrassment of them lecturing me over everyt
hing they think I’m choosing to miss out on, which just makes me want to stay away. You can’t tell me that’s not the mark of a bad person.”
“Kayla, it’s not.” He took her hands and squeezed them both, making her look up at him. “People have all kinds of reasons for needing space from their families. Painful reasons. Things they don’t want to talk about, and you know what? It’s no one else’s business.”
His grip on her fingers tightened, and she looked into his eyes, trying to understand his words. Were they talking about her or him?
“I want to do better,” she murmured. “I want to be a good sister. But more than anything, I want that dream.”
“Family,” he said. “Marriage.”
She nodded, remembering his words in the car that night after the bar. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but he’d sounded so serious. So earnest about wanting those things for himself, even if he’d spent the past decade sabotaging every shot he had at a long-term relationship.
He took a deep breath. “Look, I know I was drunk when I said what I said.” Holy crap, was he reading her mind? “The truth is that I don’t know what I want. How fucked up is that?”
“It’s not fucked up at all.” She reached up and touched the side of his face, smoothing the stubble. “We’re all doing our best to figure things out.”
He shook his head, looking more than a little lost. “Or maybe I’m too chickenshit to admit what I want.”
She stared at him. “Tony, you jump out of airplanes for a living. You’re the least chickenshit person I know.”
The grin that tugged his lips didn’t fully meet his eyes. “Love’s a helluva lot scarier than jumping out of a plane. Even with flames around, at least I’ve got a chute.”
“There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”
He laughed and eased off the bed. “I’d better get to my own room.”
She watched him gather up sandwich wrappers and chip bags, tidying the nightstand as he went. Nibbling the corner of her lip, she waited until he finished piling wrappers in the trash.
“Would it be weird if we shared a room from now on?” she asked. “I know we said it might be awkward, but under the circumstances—”
“Yes.” He walked back to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “I mean, no, it’s not weird. It makes total sense to share a room. Want me to cancel the rest of the reservations?”
“Oh. Sure, that’d be great.” Wow, that was easy. “We can get two beds, obviously. But this way we’ll save some money.”
“Sure, that’s good.” He smiled and stood up again, hesitating at the edge of the bed. “Good night, Kayla. Fireball, you take care of her.”
The little dog wagged his tail as Kayla waited for Tony to kiss her. To lean down and brush his lips over her cheek or temple in a friendly way. Or something less friendly—a slide of tongues against each other; the sort of embrace she could pull him into and convince him to stay and take his fair share.
But Tony just smiled and stepped back. “I’ll see you at six, right? You wanted to get out to the forest before sunrise?”
“Oh. Right, yeah. You know where the burn site is?”
“Yep.” He caught the doorknob in one hand, turning back to smile at her. “Sweet dreams, Kay.”
“You, too.”
She watched as he slipped through the door, closing it behind him with a click. She gave it a second, waiting to see if he’d come back. Knock on the door and tell her he wanted to spend the night cuddling.
But no, that was nuts. She got up and flipped the latch on the door. Fireball stood up and stretched, yawning as he arched into a yoga master’s perfect downward dog. Kayla crawled back into bed, cuddling the little dog close. “You can sleep with me tonight, okay?”
Fireball wagged his tail and cast a look at his crate, clearly unsure.
“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Tonight, I’d love the company.”
The assurance seemed to work, and the little dog curled up in the hollowed-out space against her abdomen, sighing with pleasure. Doing her best not to disturb him, Kayla reached for her book and flipped to the spot she’d stopped reading.
Treat yourself to the date you deserve.
Well, wasn’t that timely?
She kept reading, absorbing Dr. O’Toole’s words about self-acceptance and the importance of developing an appreciation for your own company. According to Patience O’Toole, women—and men, too, but women seemed to struggle more with this, in the doctor’s experience—should learn to be okay with the idea of taking themselves out on dates.
And the good doc wasn’t talking about ducking into Panera for a sandwich on the way home from the gym, or even catching a movie solo when none of your friends wanted to go. She meant a real, honest-to-goodness dinner date with delicious food and wine and maybe candles.
Kayla closed the book and put it back on the nightstand. Then she switched off the light and lay back on the bed to think about that.
Had she ever done that? Taken herself on a date without worrying what someone would think or if she’d get bored without someone to talk to?
It was worth considering—maybe in a few days, when they hit Missoula, Montana. A college town, so they must have lots of restaurants. The next couple nights, Tony planned to meet up with friends from local fire crews, so she had some evenings to herself. He’d invited her to join them, but she’d declined, pretty sure he could use the guy time.
And maybe she could use the me time. A date just for her—something swanky and special and amazing.
Rolling over again, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and flipped to the Yelp app. With hope rising in her chest, she started to scroll for restaurants.
…
Tony surveyed the bar, both hands wrapped around the pint glass of beer he’d barely touched. His brother was ten minutes late.
Yeah, he’d told Kayla he was meeting up with firefighting pals at the next couple stops, which was technically true. He and Joel had worked together as wildland firefighters, then joined the Hotshots. Joel had remained on the ground crew even after Tony took to the sky as a jumper.
He’d invited Kayla to join them tonight, crossing his fingers she wouldn’t say yes. Deep down, he’d known she’d decline. They’d agreed to spend a few evenings flying solo, and part of him felt relieved.
She needed to take photos, and Tony…well, he needed to get his head screwed on straight. What the hell had he been thinking, crossing the line like that? Going down on her had been amazing. Outstanding. Otherworldly.
But it couldn’t happen again. He needed to remember that.
He needed to remember the words Courtney had said to him back in Jackson Hole.
I guess it just seemed more like you were a guy playing the role of someone who has a girlfriend, without actually being a boyfriend.
The last thing he wanted was to leave Kayla feeling that way.
“Yo, dickbrain.” Joel eased onto the barstool beside him, pulling Tony back to the moment.
He stood up and grabbed his brother in a great big bear-hug, squeezing him hard enough to make Joel grunt. He was a big guy—nearly as big as Tony, despite being three years younger.
“You’re late, motherfucker.” Yeah, they definitely weren’t a family of I-love-yous.
But Joel just grinned as he pulled back from the embrace and picked up the beer list. “Had to finish some paperwork back at base. You know how it is.”
“I hear ya.” Tony sipped his beer, still barely touching it. He didn’t want to be fuzzy-headed for this conversation. “How long are you here?”
Joel didn’t have to ask what he meant. They’d both worked firefighters’ schedules long enough to grasp the transient nature of the job. “One more week,” Joel said, nodding to the waitress ambling their way. “Then to Australia. You working over there this time around?”
<
br /> “I’m sitting out their season this year,” he said. “Taking some time off.”
“That sounds fucking amazing.”
They paused the conversation while Joel ordered a beer and Tony put in an order for Cajun tater tots. He watched the waitress walk away, braced for the question he knew would come next.
“Heard from Leo lately?”
Tony took a steadying breath. Looked down to see his fingers had curled into fists. He ordered himself to uncurl them before answering. “No.”
“When’s the last time he saw Mom?”
What kind of asshole was Tony that his best pal from high school was the only one looking after their mother? The mother who’d raised him, fed him, given birth to him, for Christ’s sake.
But he had his reasons for staying away. So did Joel.
Tony shrugged. “He texted last week after he stopped by to fix some busted boards on her porch.”
Joel’s forehead furrowed. “And she let him?”
“No.” Tony took a sip of beer. “He did it when she wasn’t home.”
“I take it Bud wasn’t there?”
The name of their mother’s second husband hit Tony like a punch to the gut. He took his time answering. “Leo’s only keeping tabs on Mom. He stays the hell out of Bud’s way.”
“Smart man.”
Joel didn’t say anything else, and Tony didn’t, either. Didn’t ask if his brother had had any contact. He knew the answer to that question.
The waitress brought the beer and assured them the tots would be up quickly, and Tony hoped the thread of conversation might just drop.
No such luck. “You ever think about calling her?”
“No.”
He held his breath, hoping Joel wouldn’t ask. Wouldn’t want to know about the last time he’d made contact with their mother.
It had happened on Joel’s birthday more than eight years ago. He’d dialed the phone with shaking hands. She’d surprised him by answering. Surprised him even more by remembering her youngest’s date of birth.