Slow Burn

by Ednah Walters

  As though he heard her, he sought a taut nipple, her T-shirt no barrier to his questing fingers. A burst of sensation annihilated what little control she had left. Ashley arched her back and tried to stop her hips from pushing against his, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own. It greedily sought his, loving the feel of him against her, needing a release so bad it wiggled and rocked.

  Sanity returned. To lose control this fast was unlike her. Worse yet, it was with a man she wasn’t sure she should trust. She wrenched her lips free from his and gasped, “Ron…stop.” Her voice was low and unconvincing, more of a whine than a command. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t heed her. She stiffened.

  “Please. Stop.” Her voice came out firmer.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ron froze, chest expanding as he fought for control. Not now, he wanted to howl. This was worse than a slow, agonizing death. He stared at her in disbelief, but something in her hazel eyes told him she meant it. He cursed silently, took a deep breath and rested his sweaty brow against hers, his eyes closing. “Why?” he asked in a voice low and rough.

  “I can’t…I don’t…,” she paused, “I can’t make love to someone I hardly know.”

  He could feel her sweet breath brush his face, her heart thunder against his and the heat between her legs. Their clothes were no barrier to the fire beckoning him down there. Slowly, he opened his eyes,

  Uncertainty, regret and arousal were clear on her beautiful face. He could take uncertainty and arousal any day. Regret was bad, very bad. Was it for kissing him or stopping their heated foreplay? She pulled her full bottom lip between her white teeth and gnawed on it. He smothered a groan, fought the urge to coax that lush lip out with his tongue.

  Had he read her wrong? Had he rushed her? He didn’t think so. She’d shown a raw enthusiasm that was surprising. Even now, she was staring at him with a mixture of fascination and uncertainty, her body still trembling.

  “Okay, babe, let’s play twenty questions, get to know each other, then pick up where we stopped.” His gaze slid to her lips, the zenith of all his fantasies. He couldn’t wait to get lost in them again.

  Ashley slumped against the wall and shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Can.”

  “I need to photograph you.” It came out as a plea.

  Ah, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The thought filled him with satisfaction.

  “We have the whole day.” He wrapped his arms securely around her buttocks and walked with her to the lounge he’d previously occupied. Her arms came to rest on his shoulders and her legs tightened around his hips. Her body quivered in response as he lowered her down, making sure she felt his arousal all the way to the floor.

  She was meant to be his, but a nagging guilt followed that thought. He knew he shouldn’t start a relationship with her while the issue of the fire was unresolved, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. “I want you, Ashley, and I’m not afraid to say it.”

  Her hands slipped lower to rest on his arms, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Look, Ron. I’m sorry if I led you on and gave you the wrong impression. I truly am.”

  Her voice was unsteady, her eyes shadowy and he’d never wanted her more.

  “I’m not.” He looked down at their meshed bodies. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with what we’ve been doing or will be doing,” he added. “You want me, and I sure as hell can’t seem to keep my mind off you or my hands off your delectable body. Let’s keep the Q and A short and sweet, okay? Two minutes, tops.”

  She opened and closed her mouth without uttering a word, and he knew he had her. He lowered himself on the couch and pulled her down on his lap, right on top of his engorged organ. Ron winced and tightened his arms around her waist to hold her down when she could have jumped up.

  She stayed, but sat stiffly. Then as though garnering some inner strength, she lifted her chin and glowered at him. “Two minutes is hardly enough time to discuss anything, Noble.”

  “You think? Allow me. Born thirty years ago, grew up here in L.A. and Vegas, have no siblings, never been married, don’t have out-of-wedlock children. Don’t smoke, only drink socially, love spicy foods and have a healthy,” he gave her a brazen grin, “change that to a very healthy sexual appetite.” She rolled her eyes. “I did my undergraduate at UNLV and got my MBA at Columbia.”

  She couldn’t hide her surprise. “All the way across the country?”

  Anything to escape the rumors and his responsibilities, he thought. “An inspired countermove against a tyrant grandmother,” he improvised. “She and I had reached an impasse.”

  Her intelligent eyes lit up with interest, but all she said was, “Let me guess? You couldn’t bully her into seeing things your way. Poor woman.”

  “See? Less than two minutes and you already know me so well.” When he trailed his finger around the thin skin along her waist, she swatted his hand. Okay, so she wasn’t ready to play, but at least she was relaxed. “And for the record, no one bullies Penelope Darden, and she doesn’t deserve your sympathy. I’m the one in need.”

  “Of what?” She laughed at his expression. “No, don’t answer that.”

  “I’m serious here. Fighting fires is in every Noble’s blood. Four generations of firefighters, and she wanted me in a suit, behind a desk.” She tried to get off his lap again, but his arms tightened, pulling her closer into him. But her wiggling sent blood flowing to his groin. She soon realized her mistake and froze.

  “Can we, uh, continue this conversation while I photograph you?” she asked with a slightly wobbly voice.

  He rather liked their closeness. Her perfect ass fit his lap so well, and it wouldn’t take much to pull down both their pants and slide inside her. Oh, yes, the position had possibilities. “I like this.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re perverse.”

  He kissed her nose. “Tell me you don’t find this stimulating.”

  “I don’t.”

  Yeah, right. She might not be aware of it, but her body curled naturally around his when she relaxed. “You’re such a liar, Ashley Fitzgerald. But, I’ll forgive you this time.” He dropped his arms to free her, but he couldn’t stop himself from running a possessive hand down the small of her back as she got up.

  She shot him an accusatory look. “You don’t play fair, Ronald Noble.”

  Not when it came to the opposite sex. “Me? I’m not the one who halted things just when they were getting interesting. That, sweetheart, definitely falls under unfair.”

  He leaned back against the lounge and watched her as she crossed the room to pick up the camera. He liked the way her old clothes hinted at the lush, feminine curves underneath. But nothing compared to her kisses, her responses. They were stimulating, raw and honest.

  She shot him a glance, caught him ogling her and wrinkled her nose. He winked at her. She lifted the camera, aimed the viewfinder at him and clicked.

  “A firefighter with an MBA. Very interesting.” She continued to snap pictures of him from different angles. “Tell me more.”

  “Part-time firefighter, part-time, uh, I’m not exactly sure what title I presently hold. Director or messenger boy, it all depends on the whims of my grandmother and uncle. You could say we reached a compromise. I put on the suit and sit through boring meetings and lunches, and I get to pit my skills against nature during fire season.”

  She kept moving, the camera in her hands constantly clicking. “I read somewhere that she single-handedly started the company, securing contracts with major casinos and hotels in Vegas before branching to L.A.”

  Crafty, demanding and invincible, that was his grandmother. Rumor had it that she’d used questionable means to acquire the Vegas contracts. Probably true. His family had way too many dark secrets. “She’s a formidable woman.”

  “That explains it.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Explains what?”

  “How you’ve managed to waltz past Jeffrey downstairs. Last week and today, he di
dn’t bother to check with me before letting you come upstairs.” She lowered the camera and walked toward him.

  He chuckled. “The man knows who signs his paycheck every month.”

  “I won’t have you bully him just because you’re his boss,” she admonished and knelt beside the lounge.

  “Don’t let his wife Marina hear you. She claims that title…or used to. I believe baby Justin has replaced her now. Cute little boy.”

  An expression of regret crossed her face as she contemplated him. “You’re full of surprises.” Her voice was almost sad.

  He didn’t know what to make of that. “Good ones. I hope.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I need to take more pictures of different poses. Shift slightly to the right, please. Yes, that’s good. Left arm behind your head. Bend your right knee slightly.” She touched it and his muscle contracted. “Much better. Left leg extended, slightly parted.” He let out a ragged breath and she grinned. The little tease was deliberately driving him crazy. “Right arm across your stomach…no, no, just above your bellybutton.”

  “How long are we going to do this?” he growled.

  Ashley smiled. “Just a few more minutes. Why?”

  “I think my two minutes are up. I was hoping we could leave your stats and the photo shoot for later, and pick up where we left off.”

  She laughed. “A firefighter, director, messenger and a comedian. Wow. You’re a real piece of work, Noble.”

  He liked the way she found humor at the oddest moments. “You’re pretty special, too.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere with me. Do you want some music?”

  “Nah. I rather like the view,” he muttered, his gaze locked on her.

  She lifted the camera and aimed at him. “I like the view too.” When he smiled, she ripped off a shot, then another. She kept instructing him and moving around, the shutters snapping nonstop. When she zoomed in for close-ups, she caught the hungry look in his eyes, his sensual mouth, his abs, his kissable belly button. Heavens, even his toes were perfect. Click. Snap.

  Through the lenses, her inhibitions were gone. She was the bold lover seducing him with words and her eyes, making him do her will. Would he be that accommodating in bed? Let her take the lead? Hmm-mm, the things she’d do to him. The thought had her grinning like a cream-fed cat. Naughty, naughty, Ashley.

  She lowered her camera to say, “Tell me more about you, Ron.” With his mind occupied he wouldn’t mind the sitting. Besides, she wanted to catch his facial expressions. She returned the first camera to the table and picked up another, then turned to face him.

  “I thought it was your turn to give me your stats.”

  “My life isn’t interesting.”

  “It is to me.”

  “Okay. I, uh, started drawing as a child. My parents recognized my talents and hired a tutor to work with me. Jonathan was eccentric, but fun. I learned a lot from him. For a while after my parents died, I didn’t want to touch a paint brush.” She’d been too angry at them, everyone, the world. It took her a while and a lot of therapy to move on. “Finally, something, I don’t know what, pulled me back and I went back to lessons. Later, I studied theater arts at UCLA. After graduating, I started with commissioned pieces and murals. Now I try to have a show once a year.”

  “Why theater arts? Why UCLA?”

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d try my hands at acting, but I didn’t have the temperament for it. I did better behind the camera.”

  “Makes sense. You enjoy ordering people around.”

  She knew he was referring to her present performance. “Thank you,” she said glibly. “And you are surprisingly good at following directions.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “I have an ulterior motive.”

  No kidding. She lifted the camera and captured him laughing. “Anyway, after wandering with my parents, I wanted to be close to family, and UCLA seemed a wise choice.” Her finger hesitated on the button. “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Talk and photograph you at the same time. Do you mind…?”

  He shrugged. “No. Uh, what did you want to know?”

  “About your college days…family… why the Hotshot organization. I mean, wildfires are kind of unpredictable.”

  “That’s why they employ a lot of part-time workers. When my father died, I spent a month with my grandmother Deanne and my uncles in Kern Valley. Heard their stories about wildfires, the challenges of working them, and I was hooked. When I started college, I applied to the Forest Services for a part-time position. Learned to get by and make do in the outdoors fast. Made me wish I had stuck with boy scouting though.”

  A reflective expression stayed on Ron’s face as he spoke. Her finger on the button twitched as she captured it. “That must have been tough.”

  “At first. My uncles and cousins didn’t cut me any slack either, just like they didn’t my father. He worked with them before he met my mother. After he took over running L.A. branch of Neumann Security, he worked part-time with the local firefighters. Anyway, they made sure I could operate a chain saw, drive a truck with a five-and-a-two transmission, and I obtained a license to drive heavy rigs before I went out. Pitching a tent, cooking over fire, tying a half dozen knots became as easy as breathing.”

  Amazing he’d want to be a firefighter after his father died in the line of duty. His mother must have gone ballistic. “How did your family take it?”

  He grimaced. “My mother refused to speak to me for weeks. She couldn’t understand why I had to do it.”

  Ashley stopped taking pictures all together and studied him. “Why do you do it?”

  “It was something to do,” he said, his expression closed. “Still is.”

  Yeah, right. “Working at Neumann Security would have sufficed if you were just looking for something to do.” She studied him, wondering if she could dare voice her thoughts. “It makes you closer to him…your father, doesn’t it?”

  He shot her an unreadable glance. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because we all do things to make us feel closer to those we’ve lost. I listen to my parents’ music, kept the lawyer they had when I could have gone with a younger one. Even opening a commune for artists was their dream. It’s perfectly normal to have these feelings.”

  There was a silence, as though he was debating on how much to admit to her. Finally, he said, “Yeah. My family didn’t think so.” A far away look entered his eyes. “My grandmother threatened to disown me, and Uncle Gregory blamed my father’s “blue-collar” genes on every bad thing I did.”

  From his expression, she couldn’t tell if their reaction had hurt him. “It doesn’t really matter what anyone thinks, you know. As long as it brings you peace, joy, or whatever it is you’re searching for, nothing else matters.”

  He smiled. “I don’t know about all that. I like the physical challenge of fighting wild fires—walking miles on end on the rough, uneven terrain, living out of a backpack, sleeping on the ground and staying at remote spike camps.”

  Filling his father’s shoes or at least trying to. “And here I had you pegged as a city boy,” she teased.

  “I guess now you know my deep, dark secret.”

  And a whole lot more. “You want to take a break?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” was his response. He stood, moseyed to where she was rewinding the films. He slipped his arms around her waist, pressed his cheek against the side of her head and watched what she was doing. “I have a new respect for models. Or maybe you’re just a demanding photographer. Right arm there…left there…chin tilted this way…legs apart…together…. I was beginning to plot your demise.”

  “I would never have guessed,” she lied smoothly and forced her body to behave. It wasn’t easy. His masculine chest was naked and yummy-looking. “If you ever want to change professions, I have Dee’s phone number.”

  “No way. I’m too old to be prodded and told how to sit.” He kissed the side of her neck
and let her go to retrieve his shirt. “So what’s next?”

  “I’m going to cook breakfast, then hopefully you’ll have the strength to sit for me, again. Without the pants.” He groaned and she smiled. “Uh, I forgot to ask before. Did you have breakfast?”

  “No. I was too far gone to eat whatever the flight attendant prepared.”

  Flight attendant? Where in God’s name had he flown from this morning? “Would you like something now? I make a mean omelet.” She started for the kitchen.

  “Then I’d definitely like some.” He followed her to the kitchen, pulled out a stool and sat. “How come you don’t use digital cameras?”

  “I do when it’s convenient, but I like the results better when I use film.” She retrieved a pan from a cupboard and placed it on top of the stove. “The highlights and overexposed objects tend to look garish on digital prints while the film prints depends on the person processing them.”

  “Do you do your own processing?”

  A shiver went through Ashley at his words. The thought of being in a dark room was enough to make her break out in sweat.

  “I drop them off at a friend’s. I don’t like small spaces.” She removed butter and brown eggs from the fridge. When he didn’t speak, she threw him a look from the corner of her eye.

  He was studying her loft as though seeing it for the first time. She’d bet the lack of draperies on her windows made sense to him now. Most of her visitors usually assumed the artist in her liked the extra light. Little did they know dark rooms, confining spaces filled her with unreasonable dread.

  “It has something to do with that night, doesn’t it?” His voice had her looking up from the bowl of eggs she was whipping. He sounded angry.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. My therapist thinks so, but since I don’t remember much, I can’t say with certainty.”

  “And these notes on your fridge door and the corkboard?”

  This time, she felt heat crawl up her face. There was sharing information and there was baring one’s soul. She wasn’t ready to go there with him. But if she ever lost her memory again, those notes would tell her exactly what she missed. “Would you like more coffee?”