She was on him before he could flip the light switch. The next time he said her name was in exclamation before she threw her arms around his neck and silenced him with a kiss. She heard his duffle bag drop as he pulled her to him. If he was still confused about why she had jumped him the minute he’d walked through the door, he wasn't about to argue.
Her mouth roamed against his incessantly. Already, it felt like it had been too long since she had last tasted it. His hands moved up her back, hiking her shirt with them. Alex pulled on his neck to deepen the kiss, and he stumbled forward.
They crashed through the foyer toward the wall, and Landon freed one of his hands from the tangle of her shirt at the last second to catch them both before they slammed into it. Alex took full advantage of the pause to strip her shirt all the way off; she pulled it over her head and flung it into the next room.
They navigated between rooms, leaving a trail of hastily divested clothing in their wake. By the time she resurfaced from kissing his neck, it was to discover that they were both naked—and definitely not in either of their bedrooms.
Landon thrust her up against the kitchen sink, his erection raging between her legs. Panting, Alex reached between them to take hold of it. She ran her fingers up and down its smooth, thick length. She thrilled at touching him, every opportunity she got.
As she stroked him, she began to ease herself down from the sink. His body was a rock-hard, burning obstruction to doing so, but she shot a glance up at him through her eyelashes in an attempt to convey what she intended. She ran her tongue along her lips to make it even more obvious. When he shuddered, she lowered herself a few more inches to the ground.
"No." Landon seized her shoulders and held her in place.
Alex blinked in confusion. "No?"
"I don't want you on your knees tonight. I want to see your face."
Something about his request almost frightened her. The intimacy he hinted at . . . she didn't know if she could stand to be looked at now that he’d copped to his intention.
When she tried to slide past him again, Landon took a firm hold of her hips and cemented her in place on the counter. Then, to her immense surprise, he lowered himself down, coming to rest between her parted knees.
His tongue flicked, tasting, teasing, and Alex nearly fell backward into the sink. She grabbed onto the cupboards flanking the sink as Landon licked all along the outside of her flushing folds. When the tip of his tongue prodded her clit, Alex gave a muted shout. She tried to bring her knees together to keep them from trembling too obviously, but he held them at bay.
"Let me taste you." He breathed the words against her oversensitized inner flesh. She moaned in minor protest—it had been her idea to go down on him, after all—but how could any woman in her right mind resist his offer? She let her head tip to one side and watched the crown of his head move between her legs. Her chest rose and fell unsteadily. She let out a string of quiet, escalating moans; within moments, her legs were shaking again.
"Please," she begged him. She didn't want to come with his face between her thighs. She wanted to see his expression as much as he wanted to see hers.
Landon glanced up, then rose obediently. By now his cock was a straining pillar. She doubted his own want could be comfortably ignored any longer, just from the look of it. "Need you," she added for good measure. She cupped his face in her hands to restrain him from descending again.
"I need you, too." Landon's lips found hers, and Alex tasted herself in their kiss.
She almost wished she was in the frame of mind to halt the proceedings then and there. There was too much emotion loaded in Landon's words—and in her own. Her body yearned for him now almost as much as her heart. There was no quenching the surge of affection that coursed through her, the intense wanting to possess what was right in front of her and all too available. His absence plagued her days, and his presence warmed her nights. She was in a constant state of flux, with or without him.
And he was quickly becoming all she ever thought about.
Her fears dissipated as Landon took her, right then and there, up against the kitchen sink. Alex cried out as he slipped his throbbing cock inside her, and Landon groaned as he leaned forward. He grabbed the knob of the kitchen sink and accidentally twisted; cold water splashed her lower back, but it wasn't nearly enough to douse the fire raging in her where their thrusting pelvises joined.
She orgasmed, pinned upright against him. She cried out and clutched him for dear life, shaking through the crest and fall; she hooked her ankles around his surging hips, and her toes curled. She was already feeling dizzy in his arms by the time she realized he had spun her through the air and settled into a kitchen chair with her still astride him.
Not enough. The revelation shook her more than her twitching, firing muscles. She needed more.
She rocked in his lap as his hands settled on her waist. His fingers pushed and pulled, guiding her, steering her up and down and all around the slick, rigid length nestled inside her. A roll of her hips struck her clit against his pelvis bone, and Alex shuddered. Normally, after coming so hard the first time, she would have been totally spent . . . or at least would tell herself the time she’d allotted in her schedule to get herself off was up, and if she was unsatisfied, then it was too damn bad. Now, the hunger licked to life once more in her belly, a flame that couldn't be extinguished.
It had been her enduring mistake to try, she realized. She could wall her heart off, but her body was still a living thing that demanded gratification.
Even her heart didn't feel safely remote, anymore.
"Look at me," Landon murmured. Panting, Alex glanced up from watching herself gyrate on top of him. It was easier to focus on the rhythm and mechanics than it was to look him directly in the eyes. If she looked, she was certain she would—
Landon cupped her face, and Alex had no choice. His loving gaze swallowed her whole, and she was drowning, falling through depths she had forced herself to proudly meet by the light of day, and to staunchly avoid when they came together in the shadows.
"Alex . . ." He whispered her name—and clearly intended to say more—but yanked her to himself suddenly with a hiss. She had chosen that precise moment to rise up and sink herself down onto him. Biting off a curse, he came hard, emptying himself inside her in a quick sequence of hard, bucking thrusts.
As Alex rode the last one upward, her stomach tensed and flooded with warmth. A ragged sigh passed her lips as she clutched him close and returned his embrace. She came again in his arms.
Just sex. The words spun themselves out in her brain like a broken record. It can't be more. It can't be more.
I can't let it happen again.
Chapter 11
Landon
"We probably shouldn't do this anymore."
"Hm?" Landon glanced past his right bicep, folded behind his head, to take in the lovely vision lying beside him. After getting pounced by Alex when he’d arrived home from work—and after spanning every inch of the kitchen they shared as he’d worked them both up into a feverish lather—they had retired without showering to his bedroom.
"Sex," she said flatly. "We probably shouldn't do it anymore."
Hearing this from her now seemed absurd. She was pressed against him, and her fingers had tangled themselves idly in his sparse chest hair. Landon caught her fingers to lay a dismissive kiss on them, but Alex pulled her hand away.
That was when he understood the full seriousness of the situation. "I'm confused," he admitted. He figured it was best just to come clean. "Aren't you having fun?"
Alex choked on what sounded to him like a mirthless laugh. She sat up to meet his eyes. "Of course I'm having fun. The thing is . . . I'm just not sure I want to get tangled up with you."
"Little late for that."
"I'm not sure I want to stay tangled up with you, knowing that you're going to head back out to the fire, and then . . . back home, I assume." She tucked a sweat-soaked strand of hair back behind her ear.
L
andon blinked. She looked so young, so vulnerable. He had described her from the beginning as having angelic features, but this was the first time he had ever seen Alex struggle against something that lay below the surface. He knew she had demons. Hell, so did he. But she suddenly looked like she was losing the battle against them, and Landon wasn't sure what that meant for them.
"I know I'm blowing hot and cold here, Landon. I wish I wasn't. But—I am. I wish I could be different, but I'm not."
"I don't want you to be different." He meant every word of his assertion. "Look—Alex—if I gave the impression that I was going to push you—I won't. I don't want to force you somewhere you don't want to go. God, that's the last thing I want." He ran his fingertips along the silky lock of hair she had displaced, herself, only seconds before. "If the situation needs to be complicated until you figure things out, then that's okay by me."
His eyes searched hers for some sign that she heard him. He had the full attention of her searing blue eyes, but did she really register what he was saying? Did she know just how much she had grown to mean to him?
"I'm complicated, too," he continued after the long pause. "This fire isn't going anywhere for a while, and neither am I. We don't have to worry about the future until it arrives. But if this is your way of saying you're done with me . . ." His gut sank, even as he kept his voice level. "I understand."
He didn't. His heart clenched in revolt at the words, blackened and flaked away in pieces to think that she might end it—just like that.
But he had to risk it. He had to split himself open to her and spill the parts of him he had guarded for so long.
"It's not about being 'done' with you!" Alex shot up, and she surprised him with the answering force of her protest. "I'm not using you!"
Sounds to me like you doth protest too much. Landon winced. Clearly it was a thought that had crossed Alex's mind on more than one occasion, considering he hadn't mentioned it himself. Aloud, he said, "It's all right if you are. I just want you to know that."
"It's not all right!" Alex hung her head.
Landon stroked her temple. He was almost at a loss of anything else to do.
Almost.
He couldn't compete with a ghost if he was too afraid to bring the man up. "Look, I get it. You're not over Henry. And I want you to know, right here and now, I'm not asking you to be." He pressed her hands in his, stroked her knuckles with his thumb. "Don't hurry yourself to get there, especially not on my account. You've only just started to really come to terms with losing him. Allow yourself some time to grieve." He looked off across the room, into a corner of the past he hadn't allowed himself to delve for a long time. "When I lost my mom, it took me years to feel even remotely normal again. Even today, there are times when the world doesn't make sense to me without her."
"Thank you, Landon." Alex sat upright and shifted the sheet over one bare shoulder. "I . . . I didn't know. About your mother."
Landon nodded. How could she? He had never brought it up.
"I'm just . . . Jesus, how do I say this?" Alex shook her head as if to clear it. "I've been around so much sorrow. Not just my own, but every day at work. I'm surrounded by it. And I'm not sure our traumas are comparable. I grieve differently than you do, and you grieve differently than me. So whether or not I need time . . ."
Landon cupped her covered shoulder with his palm, and then he rose. He saw Alex's eyes widen as she tracked him in the darkness of the room. "You need space," he said. He managed to keep any hurt or confusion out of his own voice. He compartmentalized. He was determined to review it all later—when he was alone, and when Alex's fragility didn't hang in the balance.
"Landon, I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry, I . . ."
Landon shook his head and started to dress. "You need space," he repeated. "And, look, if you do just need someone for comfort, even if it's only physical, I'll be whatever I need to be." He paused in the doorway, shirt still balled in his hand. "I care about you. But I have to be myself, too."
"I know you do." Alex tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gazed down at the sweat-soaked sheets they had rumpled together. "I don't want you to be anyone else."
Liar. Landon stared at her bowed forehead and wished the word didn't strike him like a bolt between the eyes. He knew that what he did for a living alarmed Alex; he knew that she disapproved. How could he separate who he was as a man from what his soul needed to survive? He needed to be on the frontline, to be the first one responding, the first one with his foot half in the fire and a hand held out to the person who needed rescuing.
Alex's bedroom was dark. The window was cracked, and a cool evening breeze filtered in past the curtain, bringing the stinging wildfire smell with it. If the room had been on fire, Landon reflected, he would have known how to navigate the space between them to pull Alex to safety.
But she had to help herself out of this one. She could heal him, but he couldn't heal her.
He turned and left to close himself inside his own bedroom and think on this. He had never felt more at a loss . . . and a part of him couldn't help wondering if things stood any chance of working out between them.
Chapter 12
Alex
"It must be some sort of addiction, Lana," Alex sighed as she poured them both another glass of wine. "First Henry, now Landon. I haven't even looked at another man since Henry passed away. You know that, right?"
"You don't need my validation," Lana said. The two women sat together in Lana's parlor. Though she loved Lana's famous sweet tea, Alex had elected to bring something a little stronger with her today. She passed the deep crimson-brimming glass to her friend and cupped her own. She had overpoured on purpose; they had two bottles to get through between them, and Alex had vowed on her way over to limit herself to only one night of griping.
Luckily, Lana’s house was not that long a walk from hers.
"I think it's wonderful that you and Landon are trying things out," Lana continued. "It's so romantic, don't you think? You nursed him back to health, and now he's helping to mend your wounded heart."
"It's not like that at all!" Alex stressed. Her voice sounded tight, like she had almost used up all the oxygen available to her to protest with. Lana was still watching her with the same small impression of a smile but waited for her to finish. Alex composed herself. "And anyway," she continued, "how do I know this isn't just history doomed to repeat itself? He's reckless, Lana. He can't stay away from danger. I'm afraid he's the same exact person Henry was."
"Landon is not Henry." Lana's tone surprised her with its severity. "And you had better not start down that track thinking that he is. You're only going to hurt yourself and those around you if you try to replace your husband."
Alex sighed. She wasn't communicating the way she wanted to, today—first with Landon, and now with her dear friend. "I know he isn't Henry, Lana. But some days, it all just feels so . . . similar. I've been single for four years, and the first guy I fall for has the same sort of brash disregard about doing things likely to get him killed. I can't go through that again."
"It's a hard place to be in," Lana said sympathetically. "I certainly understand not wanting to relive the past."
Alex thought she had conveyed her feelings effectively on the matter, but she couldn't help feeling foolish, like a teenage girl venting her problems overdramatically to the passive girlfriend whose job it was to listen.
"But enough about me," Alex said quickly. "Have you seen Hank since he came back to town?" She was desperate to turn the tables and prove herself worthy of Lana's saintlike patience.
Lana shook her head. "I mean, we've technically seen each other from a distance. But you don't want to hear about all that, now."
Alex opened her mouth to protest, but Lana shook her head again. "Really, Alex, I'd prefer to talk about you. You've been through so much, these past four years, and I don't see you giving yourself enough credit now."
Alex sat up. She opened her mouth to protest, then stopped herse
lf. If there was anyone in the world she didn't want to interrupt, it was Lana.
"Landon sounds like a good man, from the way you describe him," Lana said. "Maybe your type isn't what you think it is, at all. Maybe, rather than finding yourself attracted to men with a death wish, you simply find yourself attracted to good men.” She tilted her head to the side as she asked, “Isn't that a better way to see it?"
"I don't know if I'd be deluding myself if I accepted your take on it," Alex admitted. She took an introspective sip of her wine. She put her glass down, swallowed, and suddenly blurted the truth she had been holding back: "He's right, you know. He told me I hadn't taken the time to actually grieve Henry's death. I can see now that I've been running, and I know it's all my fault." She hung her head.
"It's not your fault, honey," Lana whispered. "You've been through an unimaginable tragedy. No one on God's green earth would ever blame you for dealing with it as best you can."
"But I'm not dealing with it!" she exclaimed. "For four years, I didn't deal with it! And now Landon shows up, and I’ve never even started the process, let alone finished it." She swallowed, then raised a hand to touch her temple. "God, I've done this to myself. Worst of all, I've done it to him," she said bitterly. "Of course he had to come all the way out here from Alaska when the world's burning to find himself in my care." Alex snatched at her hair and cradled her head in her hands. "It's just . . . the worst possible timing on all fronts."
Lana laid a gentle hand on her knee. "You just have to trust your heart. That's the only way you can make these kinds of decisions."
My heart, Alex thought again as she trudged home, long after the last of the wine was gone. The heart is a muscle. The heart is an organ. My heart was dead for years before a smile from Landon gave it a jump. How am I supposed to trust what it says when I don't even speak the language anymore? And what if . . .?
What if it told her exactly what it had told her when she met Henry? Hold on to this man and don't let him go? How could you hold on to a man who raced away from you to risk his life at every opportunity?
Californian Wildfire Fighters: The Complete Series Page 19