He removed his hand and used his clean hand to rotate her knees just enough that her injured side was facing him. “I’ll apologize in advance,” he said. “Because this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.” He paused again, meeting her gaze. “Sure you don’t want to go find the nice doctor with the Lidocaine?”
Scarlett grinned before biting down on her lip. Her hands clenched around the edge of the lid. “I’m good. Let’s do it.”
She jumped at the first touch of a wet washcloth against her skin, the stinging burn ramping up. She looked down instinctively, but when her stomach heaved at the sight of red-tinged water running down her arm, Scarlett looked away and closed her eyes. “Just relax.” Connor’s words met her ears, pulling back some of the mounting nausea. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Talk to me,” she said. “Where’d you grow up?” Scarlett leaned back and rested her head against the wall, concentrating on the lilt of Connor’s voice as he talked about a childhood growing up in small-town America. Baseball, camping out in the backyard, catching fireflies, eating enough ice-cream to make himself sick one summer. His stories brought back her own memories of more innocent times, and before she knew it, the snap of the nitrile gloves and the touch of Connor’s hand on her waist—this time skin on skin—brought her back to the present. She glanced down. Her arm was clean and covered with a padded white bandage.
Connor pushed to his feet and turned back to the cabinet again, returning with a glass of water. He held out his hand, on which rested two small tablets. “Ibuprofen,” he said with a smile. “You’ll thank me later.”
She smiled back, her eyes roving over him. Now that the wound was cleaned and dressed and the blood was finally washed away, the sharp burn had been replaced with more of a dull throb, something she could far more easily ignore, especially with Connor’s six-foot-plus muscled frame standing in front of her. Somewhere along the way, he’d stripped off to his T-shirt. The thin fabric pulled tight over his chest, wrapping around biceps that looked to be the same size as her thigh. What the hell were they serving at the firehouse? They had to be fit for the job, true, but most of the guys from the firehouse looked like they’d just stepped out of a calendar. Her eyes moved down over thick thighs, pausing for what was probably a second too long not to be noticed at the bulge between them.
She pushed to her feet, feeling steadier now that everything was cleaned and she’d had a chance to catch her breath. Connor reached out again to steady her, and Scarlett took full advantage, leaning into his body. “How about I thank you now instead?” She didn’t wait for an answer, or to give her own mind any time to talk about it, just leaned in and took his lips with hers.
Connor groaned and opened his mouth as her tongue darted out, licking at his lower lip. He sucked it into his mouth, twirling his with it as his hands moved to her hips, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body felt like home, and she leaned into him, feeling his muscles ripple as he moved.
Connor’s lips broke away, and he locked his gaze with hers, tipping her chin up gently with a finger. “You’re sure?”
The tenderness in his eyes after the night she’d had nearly broke her, but Scarlett refused to let a single tear form. She’d survived, she was there in Connor’s arms, and she was damned if she was going to let all the shit that had happened—tonight and over the last few years—take anything more from her. She held his gaze, watching his eyes heat with arousal when she licked her bottom lip, then uttered a single word.
“Yes.”
Connor’s hands reached around her and swept under her knees, lifting her to his chest as he walked out of the bathroom. She rested her head against his chest, enjoying the feel of his firm flesh beneath her and ignoring the mess they were leaving on the bathroom floor. She wasn’t going to give any of the earlier part of that night a single other thought. There’d be time for that later, when the sun rose again. Tonight was about this moment, when she finally let go of all the hurt and anger and allowed Connor to show her what life could be again.
His lips dropped to her head and brushed against her hair as he continued down the hall, murmuring unintelligible things as he made his way to his bedroom. Scarlett couldn’t hear what he was saying, and she didn’t really care. Lying back against him and closing her eyes, listening to the soft lilt of his voice and feeling his warm strength carrying her was enough to take over her world. Connor McClellan . . . he didn’t really have much of an accent, but there must be some Irish blood in him, as when they were alone in the quiet, his voice changed, bringing out the softest of accents. Who was she kidding? It was damn hot.
He moved through the bedroom and laid her on the bed, moving his hand from underneath her when she was settled. Scarlett scooted up the bed, taking care not to jostle her arm, and drank in the sight before her. Connor, tight shirt and butt-hugging jeans giving way to abs to die for as he reached behind his neck and tugged his shirt up and over his head. He made eye contact with her again, his gaze questioning hers once more as his hand rested on the button on his jeans. Scarlett sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded, biting down as his nimble fingers made quick work of his belt and then the jeans, dropping them to land next to his shirt on the floor.
Dressed only in his boxer briefs, he crawled up the bed and repeated his movements on her pants, unsnapping the waist before pulling them down her legs, his hands smoothing down her legs as he pulled them from her body. Then, he moved up the bed, lifting her slightly as he slid in behind her, resting her back against his bare chest, allowing her to rest against him between his legs. His arms reached around and toyed with her bra, brushing against her and quickly finding her nipple, raising it to a point as his head curled around and found her mouth, tasting and sucking on her as his hands explored.
Her breath escaped her in short pants, and it didn’t take long before Connor’s hands moved again, threading down her belly to the edge of her panties. His lips trailed kisses along her neck and then nibbled at her earlobe as his hand dipped inside. One hand stayed at her breast, tweaking her nipple and teasing her sensitive flesh as his lips continued to drop soft kisses against her neck.
Distracted by the hand stroking her, Scarlett barely noticed as the other hand left her breast, quickly unsnapping her bra and pushing it from her shoulders. As it hit the floor, he pushed at her panties. She hastily moved her uninjured arm to help and lifted her hips, her panties following the same path to the floor seconds later.
She lay back, pushing her legs open—exposing herself and inviting Connor’s touch. She heard a sharp intake of breath as he took in the sight lying before him, and then his hands returned, the sensation burning through her without the thin fabric in the way of his touch.
Connor played with her, his fingers flicking at her clit and then sinking inside as his other hand cradled her head, holding her to him and kissing her as his fingers thrust in and out. She shifted her hips, and Connor groaned, sinking two fingers deep inside her, finding the spot that would make her scream. He rubbed against it, over and over again, until she was quivering in his arms, panting as the need within her rose sharply. “Tell me when, Gorgeous,” he whispered, and something within Scarlett snapped. She came, arching her back as Connor’s fingers thrust deeply, his palm grinding against her clit as he took her mouth, swallowing her cries of ecstasy.
When the world finally returned, Scarlett found herself lying on her side on the bed, wrapped in Connor’s arms as he dropped languid kisses over her body. She was deliciously sated, but God, she wanted more. Looking down, her eyes widened at the sight of his hard cock pressing against his abs. Somewhere in her orgasmic bliss, he’d shed his boxers, and now they lay naked together. Their skin touched from ankle to head as his body brushed against hers, leaving little sparks of sensation over her. Scarlett felt her arousal grow again, and her pussy clenched at the thought of taking more than just his fingers inside. She grinned. This man, this wonderful man, had healed her body and her soul that night, and mad
e her completely fucking insatiable.
She leaned down, taking him in her hand and slowly pumping his erection while his hands roamed her body. First her neck and shoulders, her head tilting automatically to give him better access as his fingers brushed across the spot that always gave her shivers. His touch continued to move, taking her breast and cupping it, stroking a finger over her nipple. Goose bumps peppered the surrounding flesh as the bud grew tight at his touch, and every nerve tingled as renewed arousal flooded through her. Connor continued to kiss her as his hands roamed her body, his lips becoming more forceful, frantic, as she gripped him, sliding her palm around the head of his cock. He groaned and dropped his hand between her legs, making her back arch as he slipped a finger inside her sensitive pussy. He slid deep, over and over again, until she could feel nothing but his touch.
A touch on her shoulder had her turning her head, her eyes glazed with passion. Connor pushed gently, moving her on her side, him spooning her from behind. A few kisses dropped on her shoulder before she felt him at her entrance. His hand reached around, rubbing at her clit as he pushed inside. She cried out as her core clenched around him, and Connor’s head dropped to her shoulder, a low groan escaping him. His hands tightened on her hips, and she pushed back against him, taking him further.
She rolled, lying on her back and facing him as he continued to move within her, one of her legs draped over his as he thrust in and out, faster now. “Oh God, please . . .” The words fell from her lips as the pleasure rose within her, almost overwhelming her with its intensity. She cried out as something snapped inside her, everything turning white as ecstasy swamped her and took her under, Connor never stopping his movements. His hands moved to her head, cupping her face as he pushed deep inside her, and then held himself there, pulsing deep within her.
She was asleep before he’d even left her body.
14
Connor
Connor’s eyes slid open, the morning rays of the sun already brushing the bed and warming his face. How long had they slept? He shifted his head to take in the beauty sleeping beside him. Damn, she looked so gorgeous when she slept. He smiled at the ludicrous idea. She was gorgeous any time, but when she slept, it was like the worry of the world melted off her face. She played a good game, true, but Connor saw right through it. The small but constant tugs at the corners of her eyes, the way she set her jaw when lost in thought. If she’d realized he’d noticed the way she could disappear inside her head for minutes at a time, she hadn’t said anything. Perhaps no one else did notice. Either that, or they brushed it off, expecting it. In a way, they were right. Anyone would change having been through what Scarlett had experienced. Even without the tragedy of Derek’s violent death, Connor knew as well as the next guy what being on the job could do. It didn’t matter how hardened you made yourself, how much you promised to leave work at work. There were always cases that got to you. For some, it was kids; others, when they lost someone—even someone they knew could never be saved. For some it was elderly victims, reminding them of a parent lost to time. Everyone had a ghost who haunted them—real or imagined. It was part of the job.
Scarlett had had it worse than most. Most days, Connor was amazed that she was still showing up for work every day, kicking ass. He’d been curious to work with her as a liaison to the firehouse at first, and now with what he knew, it was his honor. But the fact that she trusted him enough to let him into her most precious domain, to fall asleep in his arms, trusting him to look after her and keep her safe while she was at her most vulnerable. That brought him to his knees. Only days before, he’d thought that moment would never come.
His arm tightened around her as his gaze roamed her face. He would have taken whatever he could get when it came to Scarlett Christensen. Even if that something was a quick fuck at the end of a hard day and nothing more. She’d captivated him from the moment they’d met, and it hadn’t taken him long to realize that she’d captured him entirely.
His head fell back onto his pillow, his touch never leaving her body. Somehow, he needed to reassure himself that she was still there. The words she’d said the night before, the way she’d gripped at him as he’d taken her, moaned his name when he’d brought her body to the peak of ecstasy, it had imprinted something in his soul. He had to believe that she’d felt something, too, because after the way she’d trusted him to take care of her when no one else could get close last night, then watching her come apart in his arms . . . That was it. He was done. There was no one else for him, never would be. He could only hope that she could feel the same about him one day.
He grinned at the idea. He and Scarlett, sitting on rockers out on the porch, surrounded by grandchildren. Why that was the first image that came to people’s minds when they were imagining their future, he didn’t know, but it felt right. One day. Scarlett probably wouldn’t retire until she was made to, but they could still build a life together. Still be happy.
She shifted in his arms, groaning as she rolled onto the side of her injured arm. Connor’s smile chased away as he moved to stop her from putting any more pressure on the wound. He could daydream of the future later. Right now, he needed to take care of the amazing woman waking up in his arms. That would be enough for today. Scarlett rolled again, toward him this time, and he propped his arm under her shoulder, holding her against his chest. Her hand came up, sleepily running over his skin. Connor felt his cock hardening at her touch, and he shifted his hips. The night before had been incredible, but he didn’t want to scare her off before she was even properly awake.
When he looked back down, Scarlett’s eyes were open. She blinked at him, moving the hand caressing his chest up to her eye, wiping away the last vestiges of sleep. “Morning.” Her voice was a little hoarse, most likely from sleep, but possibly from the number of times she’d called his name when he’d brought her to orgasm. He grinned, leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose. Her reaction to his thoughts would probably put him out of commission for a week if she could hear him, but God, she was cute, all wrapped around him with her hair sticking out at crazy angles.
Her nose wrinkled and she yawned. “What’s so funny?”
Connor leaned down, his hand pressed against her lower back, and kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, tasting her as he explored her mouth. Scarlett pulled back after a few seconds, grimacing. “Morning breath,” she rasped. “Got a toothbrush I can borrow?”
He smiled, begrudgingly pulling back. He had no idea if she was talking about him or herself, but if he kissed her any more, then his morning wood was going to become a full-blown erection that his boxers weren’t going to conceal. He leaned back, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, stupidly happy when she lay against his chest, still seemingly half dozing. Feeling her warm body pressed against his was bliss. Until she shifted again and a wince crossed her face. He moved, placing a pillow behind her head and slid out of bed, padding swiftly toward the en suite to grab the ibuprofen. “Still sore?” he called out.
His answer came in the form of the pillow, flying across the room and thumping into his back. Thank goodness he was still turned around, because Connor didn’t think she’d appreciate the grin that almost split his face at the action. Even injured, she could still nail him from across the room. That was his girl, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Though, the thought of nailing her. He groaned as his dick inflated again. He had to get himself under control. The sex was great, amazing, incredible even, but he didn’t want it to be all they were about. Scarlett had to know she could trust him, that he had her back and always would. Maybe he could start on that over breakfast, if he could control himself long enough to get his libido under control.
He delivered the pain killers with a fresh cup of water to Scarlett and then told her to catch a few minutes more rest. She rolled her eyes but snuggled back under the bed sheets as he walked back into the bathroom. One very cold shower and probably the quickest hand job in existence and he was done. With images of Scarlett
in the throes of passion roiling through his brain, it had taken fewer than five tugs on his dick before he’d splattered his come all over the shower wall, groaning as he found his release. He could only pray that Scarlett was back asleep, or all the jerking off in the world wouldn’t stop him from rolling her under him again.
When he stepped back into the bedroom, Connor didn’t know whether to be glad or disappointed to find the bed empty. With a towel wrapped around his hips, he dragged a T-shirt he’d left hanging from the bathroom doorknob over wet skin and then shimmied into fresh boxers and a pair of pants. It looked as though he’d been saved from having to hide what seemed like an ever-present hard-on from Scarlett, but he was still anxious from finding the room empty, and he hurried to dress.
He’d just zipped up his jeans when the whir of a coffee grinder sounded from his kitchen. The muscles in his shoulders that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding tightly loosened and he skipped socks and shoes, stepping out to his kitchen barefoot. Scarlett met his gaze, her eyes widening a little at the sight of him. He couldn’t help but grin. Despite his ridiculously constant arousal, seeing her do what could only be described as an eye fuck while her gaze raked over his body was just about the best thing in the world. She was as sexy as sin, and the thought she might view him in the same way made his day before he’d barely managed to start it.
“Hope you don’t mind I started the caffeine,” she said, gesturing toward the kitchen bench. “I can’t think without it most mornings.” He stared as Scarlett walked over to his coffee maker. She’d clearly been raiding his wardrobe while he was in the shower, dressing in a pair of borrowed workout shorts and a large Monroe FD T-shirt. It hung on her, but somehow didn’t disguise a single curve, one shoulder slipping off as she walked, revealing creamy skin dotted with the cutest freckles he’d ever seen. He wanted to walk across the room and join her, kissing every one while she made the morning’s nectar of the gods. He barely used the machine, not ever bothering to figure out how it worked, and would grab a takeout cup most days instead. The only thing more tempting than a fresh steaming cup of coffee was the woman making it. He could drink it slowly, sip by sip, while watching her saunter through his home dressed in his clothing. That would make for an incredible morning.
Under Fire Page 9