Rebel: Enemies-To-Lovers (The Firehouse Book 1)

by Anna Joung

  “I’d take you more seriously if you had pants on,” I mumbled.

  Rebel’s lips twitch and he stands up, sending the white sheet covering his crotch sliding to the floor. I gasp and quickly turn away. His taunting laughter has me grinding my molars. “Relax, I’m just going to put my pants on. No need to act all virginal at the sight of a dick. Wait, you’re not a virgin are you?”

  Forgetting that I’m trying to avoid looking at his penis, I swing around. “I’ll have you know that I have lots of sex.” I’m not sure why I’m so defensive and lying. Maybe it’s his teasing smirk.

  “Right.” He saunters off.

  I look a little lower and feel a surge of female appreciation for his tight, muscular backside. “Not bad at all.”

  “I heard that. Perv.”

  Gasping, I quickly spin away, mentally face-palming myself and ignoring his taunting chuckle. Before Rebel emerges from the bathroom, I brace myself for the round of teasing, I’m sure is coming my way for getting caught checking him out. However, when he appears, fully dressed, he’s wearing a serious mask.

  “Wait, are you leaving?”

  “Yup.”

  “But, we’re not―”

  “I’m going to run into town for some takeout and a bottle of wine for you, Missy. You’re seriously wound up. We’re going to get some food in you, get you out of your head, and you’re going to start painting shit. Got it?”

  My mouth opens and closes a few times. I’m totally disarmed by his boyish grin. Letting out a breath, I say, “Okay,” because I actually think he’s helping.

  An hour later, I’m lounging beside Rebel on the sofa, stuffing my face with Chinese food and gulping down wine. I told him the tale of how I met Van and was offered a job. Realizing that I must look like a pig, I glance at him, feeling my face heat up. “I’m sorry. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  “Oh no, don’t apologize. I don’t mind watching you eat. I think I might have a new fetish.”

  “No hitting on―”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just can’t help it.” He grinned. “Why haven’t you eaten?”

  “A serious case of nerves. This idea that my work won’t be good enough keeps popping into my head. If I’m not good enough, I’ll end up living with my parents forever and stuck at some shitty desk job.” My mouth clamps shut. I wasn’t supposed to say that part out loud. Sure that my face is fire engine red, I encourage, “It’s okay, get all of your jokes out.”

  Rebel slowly lifts one brow. “Joke about what?”

  “I live with my parents.”

  “What’s funny about that?”

  The tension seeps out of me and I sit back. “It’s embarrassing, to me anyway. I had my own place but things weren’t going the way I hoped it would job-wise.”

  “We all have our low points, Summer. Some of us way lower than others,” he sighs.

  “I detect a story here. Are you going to share?”

  Mercury-like eyes clash with mine long enough for me to see pain flicker in them. Then, he blinks and he’s back to his devil-may-care self. “Nothing interesting.”

  I see now that Rebel has layers that he keeps hidden. It could be the reason why he puts on that I-give-zero-fucks facade. “That’s not fair. I told you something embarrassing about myself, you have to share something too.”

  His lips twist sardonically. “What is this a slumber party? Are we going to do each other’s hair and nails too?” I lift an arm to playfully elbow him in the side but he catches my arm with a grin. “Fine, you don’t have to abuse me, I’ll share.” he clears his throat and announces, “Just last week, I was sleeping with an engaged woman.”

  A beat of silence passes and I snort. “Oh, please! I doubt that’s embarrassing to you. Look at you, you’re smirking.”

  He tries to wipe the little smile off his face but ends up erupting into laughter. “You’re right I’m not embarrassed. It was exhilarating. It’s been confirmed, I’m a contemptible jerk. Right?”

  I pause, glance around my studio, at the takeout boxes and the wine, then at him. Rebel and I are sitting inches apart, sharing a meal like old friends and I feel comfortable. “Actually, I’m starting to think you're not so bad after all.”

  Maybe I said the wrong thing because his expression becomes guarded again. “Your turn. Tell me something else you haven’t shared with anyone.”

  I gazed at the ceiling. “Um...I was working in a bar part-time a few weeks ago and I got fired. I told everyone I quit.”

  “Why did you get fired?”

  “I have a bit of an attitude problem.”

  “No shit, I hadn’t noticed.” His tone drips with sarcasm and this time I do elbow him the side.

  “Well, it’s hard to be nice to customers, namely the ones with penises, who constantly stare down my cleavage or try to grab my ass.”

  “I can’t say that I blame those customers, namely the ones with penises,” he smirks. “I mean you have an incredible rack and your ass happens to be―omph.” Rebel rubs his side after yet another jab. “Did you physically abuse the customers too?”

  “No, but they would have deserved it.” I throw my head back and whine, “My bitchiness will be my downfall.”

  “Actually, I’m starting to think you're not so bad after all.”

  I gaze at him with a small smile, noting that his expression has also softened. I gulp, sensing that something significant is happening here.

  Rebel pulls in a breath, his brows drawing together. “Tell me about that ridiculous outfit you have on.”

  Chuckling, I chew on a shrimp and then wash it down with some red wine. Glancing down at my blue overalls, I defend, “It isn’t ridiculous.”

  “You look like a madwoman especially with that thing on your head.” He taps the front of my hat with a finger. He did have a good laugh when I’d hauled it on before we started.

  “Are you that desperate to hide your body from me? I mean, you’re smoking hot and all but I have self-control.”

  “Oh, my God,” I groan, trying my best to ignore the flutter in my stomach caused by his compliment. “You just say whatever the hell you want, don’t you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Maybe I do look crazy in the very oversized overalls and the worn-out pink beanie with the bunny ears, but they have sentimental value. “The overalls belonged to my father―my biological father. So my mother told me, anyway. The beanie is just something I bought to remind me of him.”

  Rebel’s brows drew together in askance.

  I shrugged. “He died when I was two but I have this memory of him calling me his little bunny. It’s vague but still, it’s something. Anyway, I just always throw on the overall and beanie when I’m painting. It makes me feel closer to him...even though I didn’t get to know him.”

  Rebel tilts his head to the side and studies me. “Well, now that I know how much the outfit means to you, I take it back. It’s not ridiculous. It’s actually kind of cute, especially the whole bunny thing.”

  “Please don’t say something like I remind you of a playboy bunny.”

  “I wasn’t...going to say it out loud but I was definitely thinking it.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, now I can’t unsee you naked, wearing just the bunny hat. It’s all your fault.”

  I snicker, trying valiantly to hold back my laughter. I don’t know if it’s the wine but I’m actually relaxed. Giving Rebel a side glance, I’m afraid to admit that maybe it’s the company that has me feeling better.

  “You’re easy to talk to, you know when you’re not making sex jokes. You’re a good listener.”

  I’m not conscious of the fact that I’ve leaned closer to Rebel until my lips are inches from his. Eyes half-mast, he gazes down at me. He’s perfectly still, his breath caressing my face. “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “I…” I’m not even entirely sure why I want to kiss him.

  He lowers his head just a bit, enough for our lips to graze. The slight contact is enough
to send my body temperature skyrocketing. Then, he pulls away, leaving me stunned. I blink up at him unable to believe that I’d practically thrown myself at him. I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s…” he clears his throat and scoots further away from me. He’s looking at me as if I just grew another head and I wish the ground would open up and take me in.

  “I think you should try again. With your work I mean. You seem relaxed enough.”

  I can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. “You’re right. I’ll give you your money back...for the wine and food.”

  Rebel shoves his fingers through his hair, disheveling the dark brown strands. “That’s not necessary, and don’t argue. It’s not a crime for someone to help you out every now and then.”

  It’s his small smile that helps me relax a little. He seems to have gotten over my lapse in judgment so I’m going to go ahead and get over it too. I almost retort that it isn’t a crime to open up to someone every now and then but decide against it. I don’t want to stir up any more tension to add to the sexual one that’s still lingering in the air.

  Rebel

  It’s day three of posing for Summer and I have to say, I’ve been enjoying myself. Never in my life have I been so engaged by just conversation. For a man who barely spends five minutes talking to a woman before taking her to bed, that’s saying a lot. Maybe it’s because Summer is sarcastic, smart-ass and her responses never fail to amuse me. She’s also a bit of a prude so she gets easily riled up by my foul mouth. I like seeing her eyes darken and her skin flush when I annoy or get her flustered. I flirt and make sex jokes and she tells me I’m disgusting. It’s become our thing.

  Fuck.

  We have a thing. I don’t have things with women. How the hell did I allow that to happen? I allowed myself to be vulnerable with one woman already and that only got me a broken heart. I almost opened up to Summer too. The other day with dinner, wine, and talking had taken an unexpected turn. I was honestly just trying to be a good guy for once and help her out because she obviously needed to unwind. I hadn’t expected us, to get so close. She’d shared things with me and I’d felt comfortable enough to share some deep shit with her too. I almost spilled my guts about my ex-wife and my kid. Thank God I stopped myself.

  And that kiss. It was brief, barely a brushing of our lips but I’d been rattled more than I like to admit. I was so rattled that I had pulled away. The me that I know would have gone all-in and taken things further. I guess I didn’t want to take advantage of Summer after realizing that she’d more than relaxed after a few glasses of wine. I actually care, and that’s dangerous for me.

  “Can you stop frowning?”

  I blink, my eyes flying to Summer. She’s standing beside her easel, paintbrush in hand. “What?”

  “Why are you so broody all of a sudden? What’s your problem?”

  “No problem.” I turn my head back to the right angle and mentally berate myself for allowing my unbothered mask to slip.

  “I can’t continue knowing something is bothering you. You can talk to me.”

  “For fuck sake,” I growl. “Are you an artist or a therapist? Keep those dainty little fingers going and let’s get this shit done.”

  “No need to get snippy.”

  Turning my head back to her, I put on my meanest scowl. “That’s funny coming from you, queen of snark.”

  Summer huffs and puts her paintbrush down. Folding her arms under her breasts, she studies me silently for a while. As irritated as I am, I can’t help but notice how her arms push her boobs together, and the full orbs are threatening to fall out of her tank top. Pulling in a deep breath, I try to clear my mind of all things Summer and sex. I only have a white sheet draped across my crotch so she’ll notice my boner if I get one. Then, she’ll make some condescending comment about men only thinking about sex or something of the sort. Honestly, the woman is exhausting sometimes...and I kind of live for it.

  “Come on, you can talk to me. We’re...friends.”

  “Oh, we’re friends now? We chat a few times and we’re besties? You still act like you hate my guts. Not that I give a shit.” I totally give a shit, but she doesn’t have to know that.

  “Well, it’s moments like these why I can’t stand you sometimes. You know, when I’m trying to be nice and you’re being a dick.”

  Usually, I find it amusing when she calls me names but, I’m already on edge about the disturbing feelings for her that are trying to surface. Plus, memories of my last relationship are trying to creep in to haunt me so her remark is the last straw.

  “Do you ever get tired of being a bitch? It must take a lot of energy.”

  Silence descends for too long. Now, I’m uncomfortable, sprawled on this sofa, posed like some greek statue with just a flimsy sheet covering my dick.

  “You know what. Let’s end today’s session right here,” she says too softly.

  “Awesome.” Jumping up, I wrap the sheet tighter around my waist, ready to hightail it out of here. Only, one look at Summer’s face has me rooted to the spot and I feel like the worst kind of bastard. Her brows are furrowed and her sweet lips―I still can’t get over my brief taste of them―are turned down in a pout. She looks sad and I want to kick myself in the ass.

  This is the problem. She makes me feel things and I don’t like it. I’m going to play the asshole and just leave. It looks like we both need some space from each other anyway. We’ve been holed up in her studio together for much too long. Yet, I still can’t walk away.

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I say, “Look, I’m sorry. That whole bitch statement was uncalled for.”

  Her eyes lift to meet mine but she doesn’t say anything.

  “You’re not a bitch but you’re right about me being a dick. I don’t apologize for much but I really am sorry. So, please stop looking as if someone kicked your puppy. I don’t like the look on you.”

  A derisive snort is her first response. “You can’t even apologize without sounding like an ass.”

  “And she’s back. Thank God, I was worried for a second.” My lips twist into a smile and she rolls her eyes.

  “If you think I’m sad because you called me a bitch―”

  “Which I didn’t mean.”

  “I really don’t care. If I were to cry like a baby every time some man calls me a bitch, I wouldn’t have any tears left.” The fire diminishes in her eyes, to my disappointment, and her shoulders droop. “I’m just feeling...uncertain again.”

  “Okay…”

  “You know about my work. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal business. I just wanted to talk about something to get my mind off of the possibility of my one and only client hating my work.”

  “Bullshit. I’m sure you’re doing great so far. Let me have a look.” I move to step around her but her palms land on my chest.

  “Don’t you dare! You can’t see it yet.”

  “What’s the big deal? It’s just me,” I shrug.

  Her cheeks are flushed and she nibbles her lower lips. “I don’t want you to see it until it’s finished. I don’t want you to see how I see you just yet. I’ll feel too...vulnerable, I guess.”

  Lifting a brow, I gaze down at her, much too aware of how close we are and how good her warm palms feel on my bare skin. “Is this where I kiss you? Because I feel like we’re having a moment, here.”

  “Way to ruin it,” she huffs, rolling her eyes and dropping her hands.

  “You know, you’ve rolled your eyes at me so much since we’ve met, I'm afraid they’ll fall off of your face one day.”

  “If you weren’t so good at irritating me, I wouldn’t need to roll them as much.”

  She’s smiling and I have to admit, it’s a welcomed sight.

  “Look at that, I managed to distract you from your problem after all.”

  “Is that what you were doing?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I had no idea you were so sweet.”


  I held up both palms. “Whoa, never put me and sweet in the same sentence. I’ve got a rep to maintain.”

  “So your type of women only like reprobates then?” she sniffs.

  “The way you insult me and look down your pretty nose at me is starting to become a turn on. I think we’re spending too much time together.” I can’t hold back my grin and to my surprise, she smiles back.

  There’s some kind of energy sizzling between us. The way she’s gazing up at me indicates that she feels it too...I hope. This time I can’t pull away. I lean closer, eyes steady on her face, gauging her reaction. Her eyes drop to my mouth. She totally wants me to kiss her. I hope I’m not misreading things because if I am, knowing Summer, she’ll knee me in the balls. I risk the damage to my nut-sack and go for it. My lips graze hers and she pulls in a breath. I freeze, waiting for that knee to connect with my groin or maybe a slap to the face. None of that happens so I go all in.

  Her lips are sweet just as I remember. I can’t get enough. I’m practically devouring her mouth, but she’s kissing me back with matched enthusiasm. Her arms wind around my neck and she lets out this sexy little moan that makes my cock twitch. Tongues clashing, I lift her with one arm and her legs wrap around my waist. With my free hand, I pull off the silly hat she wears while she paints.

  There are no protests from Summer when I lay her on the sofa and begin peeling away her clothes starting with her top. Her eyes are dark with something other than annoyance for once. There’s blatant sexual hunger gleaming in the golden orbs and that amps up my arousal. Getting her down to her birthday suit, I take a moment to admire the view. Her fair skin is flushed, her hair falls around her shoulders like a silky curtain and her lips are glistening and swollen from my kisses. Her chest lifts with each breath she takes, making her full breast sway enticingly. She already looks thoroughly fucked and I’ve barely touched her.

  “You look beautiful.” The words take me by surprise... and they came from me. My voice doesn’t even sound like my own. It’s thick with emotion. Oh no. I can’t have that, I need to keep things light, just get to the sex. I’ll make Summer scream with pleasure, come over and over, get my own happy ending, and walk away. There doesn’t need to be anything deeper.