Wildfire Hurricane (A Ryder Boys Novel Book 1)

by Amelia James

  His admission calmed and unsettled her at the same time. “I know.” She’d seen through his cool exterior and played along.

  “I thought you did.” Dash’s warm hands embraced hers. “But that’s not what you asked, is it?” His gaze melted into hers, and he lifted her fingers to his lips. “I don’t know if where we are is good. We had hot as fucking hell sex—I did, at least—but you already told me that’s not enough.”

  The sex had been unbelievably hot, better than anything they’d done before. Even their arguments had risen to epic levels. But they’d grown up and grown apart. “What we had back in high school is gone.” She pressed her lips together.

  His grip tightened as if desperate to hold on to what had been. “Can we get it back?”

  She had no doubt that they could, but would it last? “Do we want to?” She pulled a hand free and stroked the scar on his cheek.

  His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth clamped tight. He seemed to be wrestling with the answer. “I want something better.” His steady gaze met hers. “With you. It’s always been you. You know that, right?”

  It’s always been him. Every other guy she’d met couldn’t compare to Dash. He’d been her friend, her lover, the one person she could count on to be real. The one person she’d never had to perform for, who’d still loved her when she did. “Since the moment Wyatt held up those rabbit ears.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Wait…when?”

  “On the stairs.”

  “You were staring at him?”

  “And the half-dozen other guys doing the same thing. You looked like an escapee from the planet Bunny Hop.” She clapped her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle.

  “Jesus Christ. All this time I thought I’d captivated you with my dashing good looks.” He arched an eyebrow and puckered his lips in a useless attempt to make a handsome face.

  A full-blown snortle erupted from under her hand and she tipped sideways along the wall, laughing out loud.

  Forrest McCoy—the half-dressed and nearly famous news anchor sitting beside them—cleared his throat.

  Simone sat up and wiped her eyes. She’d needed that laugh. All the tension she’d been reining in for the last two days escaped her body in a rush, and she sighed. But much more serious thoughts chased away the lingering giggles. “I hope Cassie got out of town.”

  Dash’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “What is it with you two? Just yesterday you were cat-fighting and now you’re best friends.”

  “We’re hardly friends.” Simone scowled at the thought. “She fought hard, shot down every order I gave, but she saved our asses. She earned my respect.” As a colleague and forecaster. “But I still don’t like her.”

  Dash shook his head as he moved to sit beside her, leaning back against the wall. “I never thought my ex and my…most recent ex could work together without killing each other.” He stretched his legs in front of him.

  “She tried. I think I did too, but somehow we made it out alive. So far.” She stretched her legs alongside his and rubbed her sore knee. Cassie would survive, but Dash might not. “Why am I still your ex?”

  ***

  He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice that, but the damn woman never missed a thing. “It’s just a word.” He babbled, searching for an explanation that wouldn’t get a fist to his gut. “Not even a whole one. It’s a prefix, something that comes before a word to change it—” He flinched as Simone raised her hand.

  She pressed her finger to his lips. “Enough with the grammar lesson, R.H. Daschle.”

  He kissed her fingertip. “Sorry, I’m stalling.”

  “We don’t have time for that shit.” She withdrew her hand and tucked it around his arm.

  Her hot touch put his mind to work. The temperature in the room had increased, hopefully due to so many people in close quarters, but more likely a sign that the fire had moved into the building. “You’re right, no more fooling around. The past is behind us, the present is you and me holding each other.” He laid his hand over hers and squeezed it tight as his thoughts raced ahead. Smoke first, then flames, and if they somehow escaped that…rebuilding. Everything. “The future is fucking scary.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and shuddered. “You’re not talking about the fire.”

  “Hell no, this fire’s a pussy.” He felt her laugh. No, he hadn’t expected her to buy that, but damn if saying it hadn’t nearly given him wood. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “You and me…if we live through this…” Why if? And why wait to love her? “No, right now. The amount of time we may or may not have is irrelevant.”

  She leaned back and slid her hand along his jaw, turning his face to meet her. “Do you think we would’ve stayed together if Mal hadn’t fucked with us?”

  Ah. A question he didn’t have to wrestle with. “Yes, and I’ll tell you why.” He kissed her palm then smiled into her eyes. “I love you. I never stopped.” The promise he’d given her the first time they’d kissed came back to him. “I see the rest of my life in your eyes. I taste our future on your lips. Your heart pounds with mine. My life means nothing without you in it.”

  “I love you too.” She cringed. “I’m going to tell you that more often, not just as a reply.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t need to. I know. Back then I was so stuck on hearing the words that I couldn’t see all the ways you showed it to me. You warned me about the bat.”

  She traced the scar with her fingertip. “It marked you for life.”

  “You told me to get rid of the ball and save my ass.”

  “But you wouldn’t sacrifice your team.”

  Their ideas conflicted at the time, but now he understood just how much she’d done for him. “You made me a man.”

  “Damn right.” She slid her hand down his thigh.

  “I’m not talking about that.” He snatched her wandering fingers away from his crotch and clamped her hand over his heart. “I was a boy when we met, but you taught me how to grow up. I watched you take care of yourself when your family didn’t. I listened when you encouraged me not to take the blame for everything.”

  She sat up with an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, you listened to me?”

  “Hey, I’m trying to be deep here. If I’m a good leader—”

  “What do you mean if?” She punched his chest.

  “Stop, woman! All right, I’m a balls-out, badass leader because you pushed me.” Everything he’d become in the years they’d been apart, every truth he held dear—he got it all from her. “We’re here because of you.”

  Sweat soaked their shirts, and she sniffed as if detecting the faint whiff of smoke that tormented his nose. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  He slapped his palm over his face. “Never stop arguing with me.”

  “For the rest of my life.” Her voice cracked.

  His eyes stung and his mind raced to find a distraction. “Sing for me.”

  “What?”

  He forced a smile. “You know, ‘I was raised by a dog in the howling rain.’”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s not the words. They’re not even funny.”

  “Dog? Howling rain? How is that not funny?”

  Forrest groaned, and Simone shook her head.

  “All right, you do it better.” He faked a pout, and she took the bait. Why didn’t she see through that?

  “I will. I was born…raised by a dog…damn it, you got me stuck on that.” She ran her hands over her face. “I can’t. I’m too scared.” She slid close, curling up against him. “All I can come up with is fire and death.”

  Take her mind off our situation. “Why do you always fuck up the words?”

  She slipped her hand around his arm, clinging to him. “At first, I did it just to piss you off. After you left, I couldn’t listen to that song for years. A few summers ago, I heard it in a bar, and I couldn’t get away from it because I was with someone. So I listened to the song rather th
an his annoying drone. The words—whatever they are—didn’t make any sense, but I liked it anyway.” She sat up and wove her fingers with his. “You and me—we hardly ever made sense, but no matter what kind of bullshit we dealt with, we loved each other like fools. I guess part of me hoped we would again.”

  “I did too.” His locked up heart had always searched for her, hoping he’d spot her in a restaurant or run into her around a corner.

  “Now we’re finally together again. Like this.” She signed the word screwed and waved a hand at their dire surroundings. “Is this a cruel joke?”

  Dash failed to recall the sign for stumped, so he shrugged instead. “Bad luck? Bad timing? Or just bad altogether?”

  “Fucked up one side and down the other.”

  He captured her hands again and faced her. “I’ll tell you one thing for certain. We’re gonna do it right this time. And for all time.” Whether they lived through this or not. He’d love her beyond death and back again.

  “How?” Her grip tightened.

  “No idea. But I won’t risk not giving us another chance.”

  She tried to smile and failed. Then she wiggled her fingers free and touched his scar. “I already love you better than I did before.”

  He curled a finger under her chin. “And I won’t give up. No matter how ugly things get.”

  “It’s gonna get scary ugly.”

  “I know.” Dash leaned forward and kissed her, sinking his hand in her hair as their lips sealed their promises.

  Forrest coughed and scooted aside, but they ignored him, refusing to let go of that kiss. The ceiling creaked and crumbled, sending dust falling to the floor. Dash pulled her closer, sheltering her with his body.

  Simone sat back a space. “But I will tell you I love you—every chance I get—whether you like it or not.”

  Damn woman would argue with her last breath. “I like it.” I could die a happy man, but not yet. Please, not yet.

  Chapter 17

  Simone and Dash leaned back against the hard wall, holding hands and waiting. Hot needles pricked the backs of her thighs and her knees throbbed. Some people got up and walked around, but she stuck close to Dash, holding him and shifting positions whenever a limb fell asleep. She’d wanted to keep making out with him, but Forrest would have none of it. The man actually told them to get a room. Newsflash, asshole, no getting out of here.

  Dash tilted his head close to her and whispered. “I keep wishing for more time with you.”

  “Me too.” They’d missed out on so much, not only in the past thirteen years, but their future appeared to be over already.

  “We only knew each other as horny teenagers. We never got to learn all the adult things couples should know about each other.”

  “You mean like mature adult movie rating things?” She leaned close on one hip and tucked her legs beneath her.

  His gaze followed her movements, traveling from her bent knees to her pressed-together thighs. “Exactly.” A wicked light danced in his eyes.

  Her lower abs fluttered. “Go on.”

  “Like how you taste.” He licked his lips.

  An image of his face nestled between her legs popped into her head. “You tasted me last night, and just a few hours ago.”

  Dash’s eyes narrowed. “Work with me here. These are things we never did in high school, things we should’ve been doing together if life hadn’t ripped us apart.”

  She hadn’t meant to argue with him, but damn if that scowl hadn’t made her panties damp. “Okay, got it.”

  “I mean, hell, I’m a pro at eating pussy.” The wickedness took over his grin. “But I’d much rather be an expert at making yours drip for me.”

  She shifted, allowing the hot wetness to escape. “You’re making progress.”

  “I know.” He peeked over her shoulder at Forrest snoring a foot and a half away. “I planned to do it the night Mal played his prank.”

  Her simmering lust turned to rage, and she jammed her fist on her hip. “Is that what he called it?”

  “Forget about him.” Dash clamped his hand over her mouth and lowered his voice. “I had a sleeping bag in the back of my truck, unzipped and spread out like I’d planned to do to you.”

  Simone made a mental note to throat punch Mal if she ever saw him again. “I’d planned on giving you a blow job you’d never forget—hands, tongue—for as long as you wanted.”

  “Don’t distract me.” He grunted and parted his legs to accommodate his swelling cock. “Where was I?”

  “Unzipped.” The idea filled her mind with possibilities, heating her skin.

  “Oh, right.” He stretched out beside her and tucked her hand between his. “We never learned how many times I could make you come.”

  “One was all we could manage.” They’d had time for little else.

  His gaze swept her body, touching her breasts, then lingering at the V of her thighs. “I’m guessing four.”

  Tingles rolled along the path his eyes had taken. “Is that all?” If he kept this up, he’d have her coming until…the end.

  He slid closer, nestling her against him, his words hot in her ear. “I never felt how hot your pussy might get after I’ve pounded you all night.”

  Her heart skipped, leaping into her throat and choking the smart-ass reply she’d thought of.

  “I wanted to see all the ways your body responds to me.” He slid his hand across her cheek, into her hair, and gazed into her eyes. “I spent all my time watching your face when you came, but I wanted to see your nipples get hard, your breasts swell, your chest heave.”

  She reacted exactly as he described with the added benefit of a throbbing clit. “We never got all our clothes off. Never got to fuck in a place that gave us complete freedom.”

  “I never got to see you fully naked, stretched out on my bed, waiting for me.”

  A fresh memory protested. “Last night—sideways—kinda awkward.” Don’t argue with him!

  “I’ll carry that image with me forever.”

  Her heart pounded with his, and they fell silent for a few moments, breathing together in a heavy rhythm. “We never got to sleep—actually sleep—in each other’s arms.”

  “Naked.” His eyes twinkled. “Remember that time we fell asleep in my truck after prom?”

  She remembered well. He’d wanted to strip her dress off, but she’d complained about the cold. “You’re obsessed with nudity.”

  “Only yours. When I finally got to see all of you last night in the bunkroom, I almost lost it right there. And again in the library. Jesus, I felt like an inexperienced virgin. I couldn’t believe my luck. Couldn’t believe you were mine to take and touch, lick and suck. Mine to fuck like nothing else in the world mattered except your pussy and my dick meeting again.”

  His poetic proclamations sent ripples of pleasure down her stiff spine. “Oh God.”

  “I never got to know what it was like to hold you afterward, feel your body settle into mine, all slick with sweat and smelling like sex.”

  “We never got to share a shower.” She’d imagined it a thousand times. “Hot water trickling over our naked skin.”

  He groaned and rubbed his nose on her neck. “God, yes.”

  She closed her eyes and let the imagery take over. “Getting soapy and slippery.”

  “Fucking you against a steamy tile wall.” He leaned close, and his erection brushed her hip.

  “Ripping the shower curtain down when I make you come.”

  He moaned as if he might’ve done it right there. “Drying you off, rubbing the towel over your nipples, dragging it between your legs.”

  “Starting all over again.” She giggled and curled against him.

  “You’re relentless.”

  They shared a flickering tongue-kiss.

  Dash wiggled an eyebrow at her. “I never got to fuck your ass.”

  “You’re not going there.”

  He laughed. “I never got to undress you slowly, peel silk lingerie off you
r body, pull your panties down with my teeth.” He leaned in and nipped at her neck.

  She stretched her legs out to relieve the ache in her knees, but the throbbing sensation rushed upward along her thighs and teased her confined clit. Damn it! I need to fuck him. But the crowd of refugees offered them no privacy.

  “I never got to lick you from one end to the other, nibble your toes.”

  A shuddering sigh escaped her as his voice turned husky.

  “I never got to rip your clothes off.” His fingers tugged at her sleeve.

  All the times they’d torn into each other, she might’ve lost a button once, but the memory had faded. “We never did?”

  “Nope. I loved the way you used to pretend to fight me. You’d push at me, pull at me, you even slapped me once. That’s when I knew you were playing.”

  “If I meant it, I would’ve punched you.” She suspected he’d seen through her protests, especially when her fingers conveniently tangled with his belt buckle.

  “And all of a sudden, my pants would be down around my knees, your panties stretched sideways, and I’d be pounding that sweet pussy until you came like a hot summer storm—thunderous and wet.”

  A rising flood lapped at her thighs. “You need to write this stuff down.”

  He grinned. “My next book will be erotic poetry.”

  “Word sex for the depraved.” Oh hell, he’s gonna get fucked right in front of all these people if he doesn’t stop.

  “I think you meant deprived.”

  She considered using Forrest’s back as a headboard. “No, I didn’t.”

  “I never got to eat your pussy until last night.”

  The memory assaulted her, pinning her back to the wall and stealing her breath. Her nipples peaked, sending a desperate cry for attention to her fingers. Simone brushed her arm across her breasts as she reached for his hand, hoping the fleeting touch would satisfy the demand, but only succeeded in agitating the need.

  “God, I need to do that again.” His voice turned into a low rumble. “I need to taste your cinnamon sugar, nibble your warm flesh, suck on that throbbing bud. I felt it—”