"Lana . . ." he groaned and appeared ready to say something more. If she knew Hank, he was going to try and make a case against himself now, try and dissuade her from accepting what he had just offered. But it was love, his love, on the line.
And now that she knew it was still there, had always been there, there wasn't a chance of her letting it go again.
She leaned into him and ended the conversation by sealing it with a kiss. Hank froze for a moment; it was enough to make Lana second-guess her aggression and display of her sudden, intense need for him to feel what she was saying. She drew back and stared into his stricken eyes.
But Hank's direct gaze disappeared in the next instant as he closed his eyes and dove back in. His mouth collided with hers, and Lana gasped to avoid a clash of teeth.
Hank took full advantage of the opening. His hot tongue snaked its way in and slid against hers. Lana had to fence with it just to keep up.
Their bodies came together as their lips and tongues danced. Hank dragged her the rest of the way across the couch and in against him. Lana hiked her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. She could feel the hard stiffness of him through the front of his jeans. The sensation never stopped causing her heart to tremble with anticipation for what came next.
She was in his lap, now, with the zipper of his fly catching on the cotton of her panties. His hands roamed down to flare her dress out and expose her hips. She hooked her ankles behind his back and all but leapt into the hands that came around back behind her to cradle her ass.
I should tell him. The intrusive thought came then like a lightning strike sizzling across her mind. Tell him, Lana, before it's too late.
But nothing felt too late in that moment. Everything was searingly present. No sooner had the thought occurred to her than Hank was rearing up, pressing her against him and taking her with him. He swung her around, but rather than take her to the bedroom as might be expected, he turned and deposited her beneath him on the couch.
Lana reached down to help him shed her panties. Tell him. Tell him.
"I love you, Hank." She cheated out of telling him the truth by making another, almost equally shattering admission.
Hank groaned and buried his face in her neck. "Love you," he growled back. "I can't stop thinking about you. Every time I get you alone, I can't help myself. I have to have you."
"I'm yours. I've always been yours. Take me."
Her hands were already pinned between their bodies, so she helped him wrench his zipper open. She yanked his jeans, along with his boxers, down the tightly-muscled hill of his ass. There was no part of him that wasn't honed by years of fighting fires—and working out in anticipation of fighting fires. She let her fingers linger along his flanks and sucked in a breath of anticipation.
She was his, as she’d promised. But he never failed to make her his. He slid a hand down between her legs, fingering her entrance with burning touches that soon had her writhing, had her slick and wanting and pressing against his hand. When he took that hand away, full minutes later, she didn't regret the absence.
She knew what was coming. Hank took his thick cock by the shaft, positioned himself, and slid inside her.
Guilt warred with an almost complete transcendence in the moment as Hank filled her and moved within her. Her body rocked back against the couch, and she wrapped her arms around the strong column of his neck as he thrust into her. Her eyes locked with his, until the intensity, the unfettered love in his gaze, was too much. She looked over his tensing shoulders at the ceiling and willed herself to rise on a cloud of pleasure toward the sky.
But she couldn't. Her guilt at not being able to reveal her secret weighed her down. She hadn't outright lied to Alex about her unwillingness to confess to Hank, but maybe that was only because she had been lying to herself. The opportunity to tell him kept coming, and going, and going, and . . .
She came with a shuddering cry, and finally, her confusion and uncertainty fled her. A few more thrusts, and Hank emptied himself inside her with a deep groan of satisfaction.
All around her, the world continued to spin. Lana realized belatedly that the room had only changed dimensions and direction because Hank had lifted her up off the couch and was now carrying her like a conquered prize to the bedroom. She nestled her head in against his neck as he deposited her in the bed, then sagged down on the mattress beside her.
He still hasn't told you he's going to stay, she reminded herself as she pillowed her head on his chest. Maybe she was only coming up with excuses now for not telling him about the baby, but she still couldn't bring herself to make her own confession. It was one thing for Hank to say he loved her, and to express it in a way that she believed . . . but would love be enough to keep them together? It hadn't been, the first time they tried this.
I'll tell him. I'll tell him, just as soon as I know for certain he's staying.
Lana listened to his heartbeat, strong and constant, and let it lull her into dreamless sleep. There was nothing else left for her brain to conjure, or her heart to desire. She had it all.
Almost.
11
HANK
God help him, waking up to Lana Sweet was divine.
Hank watched her move about the kitchen. He usually rose at six, but last night's whiskey had delayed him by an hour. It was after seven when he’d finally rolled out of bed and showered.
He’d discovered Lana already up and making breakfast. There was a freshly-brewed cup of coffee waiting for him on the island, accompanying a copy of that morning's newspaper on the pulled-out stool. Hank usually got updates on the fire from his phone, but he was happy to take a break from it. Having left his cell in the bedroom, he settled in with the paper.
But the news was proving hard to digest when there were other, more pressing stories unfolding before him. His eyes followed Lana as she poured out a thick stream of golden pancake batter.
She was just so damn elegant in everything she did. Her arms were slender and surprisingly strong; the arch of her neck long and graceful; her hair, in slight disarray from sleep, still gleamed and hung around her shoulders like a breath of fresh air.
She was wearing his shirt. He loved watching the way the hem danced as she moved, rising and falling infinitesimally with each unconscious gesture as she went about making breakfast.
Every time it hiked an inch, Hank was treated to a view of her tight posterior, and to the pink lacework of her panties. He was half-hard already, and she hadn't even turned to say good morning to him yet.
"Good news?" she inquired as she shoveled the latest pancake onto the heap. Hank cast his eyes down quickly to the unread paper he was holding.
"More of the same. Everyone's still holding their breath about this storm."
"I thought the Weather Channel said it was going to pass us by?"
"Yeah. But you can't sell papers if you don't keep people holding their breath."
Lana laughed and whipped around with the plate of pancakes. "Here. Come join me at the table."
"You come over here," Hank growled. As soon as she was within reach, he pulled her down onto his lap.
Her delighted squeal of laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hank glanced off into the hall, disappointed. His erection was still swelling beneath her.
"I'm going to need you to get that," Lana remarked. Her eyes dragged down his chest, and he could see his own filthy thoughts mirrored in their depths. "I need to go throw pants on."
"I wish you wouldn't."
"Good thing there's a big strong man around to help me get them off again," she tossed over her shoulder as she skipped out of the kitchen and vanished into the bedroom.
Hank groaned. Hearing a good girl like Lana talk dirty was doing nothing to quell his raging arousal. He tucked himself into a more discreet position as he rose to answer the door.
He was not overwhelmed with happiness at what he found on the other side. "What the hell are the two of you doing here?" he deadpanned.
&
nbsp; Chase and Landon stood crowded together on Lana's porch. Chase was grinning like an idiot, and Landon . . . Hank liked Landon's carefully neutral expression even less.
"Thought we might find you here," Chase said.
"You weren't answering your phone." Landon's comment was the closest thing to any apology that Hank thought he was likely to get for their intrusion. "The word came down while you were out. We've been officially dismissed."
It wasn't anything Hank hadn't been expecting. Still, hearing the words spoken aloud instilled him with a strange sensation of . . . was it foreboding? Remorse?
"Hi, Landon. Hi, Chase." Lana came up behind him then. She ducked beneath his arm to give each of them a hug of greeting. Hank ignored the way Chase's eyebrows waggled over her shoulder. "Did I hear you say you've been dismissed?" she asked as she drew back.
Hank noted that she had changed out of his shirt. Not that it would have made a damn bit of difference, now, considering who her callers were.
"Yes, ma'am," Landon confirmed. "We just dropped by to relay the news to Hank. They've asked us to pack our stuff up and vacate the volunteer station."
"We were just on our way to get the rest of our things," Chase added. He motioned over his shoulder to the pickup truck the local squad had loaned while they were in town. "Want us to grab your stuff for you, Hank?"
"Maybe drop it off here?" Landon said with an insinuating eyebrow.
"Don't bother. I'll ride with you, and you can bring me back here."
"Hank . . ." Lana began as he turned back to her. "Would you like to take your breakfast to go?"
"Breakfast?" Chase asked hopefully as he leaned in.
Hank shoved him back out the door. "That'd be great. Thanks, Lana."
She packed enough for all three of them, of course. Leave it to Lana to make more than enough for any unexpected guests who might happen to show up halfway through an intimate meal.
Hank dropped a quick kiss on her forehead as he left; watching the glow of pleasure suffuse her cheeks made it worth the look of infernal glee on Chase's face as they got into the pickup.
"You still thinking about going back to Alaska?" Chase asked him, almost before the door had closed.
"That's nothing for you to worry about," Hank said.
Chase lifted his hands in surrender. "Hey, man, just checking in with you. Sookie might suddenly decide she wants to spend less time here if you're around, that's all."
"Uh-huh." Matters between Hank and his sister had improved overall, but their relationship was still cordially cool most of the time. Still, he didn't think Sookie was the one curious about his comings and goings.
"Just let us know when you decide," Landon suggested. "It sucks, breaking the team up. I'd like to stay in touch."
"Same here," Chase agreed quickly. Then, noticing Hank's simmering, stormy look, he added, “not about the wedding, I mean! Who said anything about a wedding? Me? Marry your sister? Gross!"
"Quit while you're ahead, Kingston," Landon advised.
12
LANA
Lana paced.
She was getting good at it. Too bad it wasn't the kind of hobby that well-adjusted, truthful people tended to take up.
She walked the length of the hallway. She rounded the island in the kitchen and needlessly reached out to tuck the dining chairs closer to the table as she passed. She mulled around the living room, even alighting on one or another piece of furniture a few times, but always some new thought carried her up off the couch or chair and drove her into the foyer. She would turn, walk, turn, walk, back and forth in the confined space, until the brightening day outside drew her onto the porch.
But the porch couldn't escape her constant pacing, either. She was liable to tread a hole in the wood at the rate she was going. Every passing car made her glance up quickly, made her heart stutter and stall.
But it wasn't Hank. He wouldn't be back for a while, yet. She still had time.
Time to what?
The situation was hopeless. No matter how many times she turned it over and over again in her mind, there was simply no hope for it. She would tell Hank the truth, and it would feel like the worst ultimatum. Like a trap.
But he had to have known pregnancy was a possibility, right? Especially considering they hadn't used protection once since he had returned to Cedar Springs. Unless he assumed she was on birth control . . .
Oh, God. Lana's hand flew to her mouth at this latest possible horror, and she sat down hard on the porch swing.
God, was it possible he thought that? The conversation had never come up. They were adults now, but they were still carrying on like the youthful sweethearts they used to be . . . hell, they were worse, because back then, Hank had always used a condom.
"What am I going to do?" Lana asked weakly. She held her head, fingers forking through her hair in distress, but there was no one real in front of her to pose the question to.
But she could do the next best thing.
She bolted into the house and returned to the porch, hitting the speed dial before the screen door could bang closed behind her.
Her cell phone was already ringing. Lana sank down onto the swing. She sucked in an unsteady breath as Alex picked up.
"Did you tell him?" Alex still somehow managed to beat her to the first word.
Lana expelled a long sigh. "No. I'm not sure how."
"Easy. I'll give you the script. 'I'm pregnant—it's yours.' Four words. I can write them down if you like."
"That won't be necessary." Lana's fingers were pushing at her hair again. She stilled them, and then her knee started to jog. She took another deep breath and fought to remain calm. "Alex, so many things could go wrong. Are you sure just telling Hank straight is the best way to approach this?"
"No," the nurse admitted.
Lana's heart sank. She had been expecting more reassurance, but she should have known better. She had called Alex for a purpose. She wanted her friend's real advice, not just blind, one-dimensional support.
Alex continued. "You're right to think that things could go wrong. But they can go wrong at any moment, with or without your intervention. You can't steer things perfectly, Lana."
"I guess you’d know that better than anyone," Lana said. "But, Alex, what if Hank doesn't want this baby? He knows how much I love him. What if he thinks I got pregnant on purpose?"
There was a long pause. Lana was about to ask Alex if she was still there when the other woman spoke. "You want my opinion?" Lana nodded before realizing it was useless. Alex couldn't see her nod of agreement through the phone.
"Yes. More than anything."
"I think you're overreacting. I think you're coming up with reasons to be worried," Alex said. "It's only natural, Lana. But you've got to stop yourself in the act. Telling Hank you're pregnant with his baby is the last thing you probably ever expected to have to do, but you're strong. You've got this."
Lana clenched her free hand into a fist in her lap. "Yeah. I've got this."
But as they hung up, Lana wasn't sure she had anything at all under control. Worst of all, she wasn't even sure that Alex was right. Was she overreacting? She was doing her best to consider—and prepare for—every possibility. She had been blindsided when Hank had left her the first time, and it had taken years to build back up any sort of trust she might have in the world.
The world was an unfair, cruel place. She tended to look for the best in the people who inhabited it, but people were still unknown players. Who could say for certain how a man like Hank might react to her news?
Hadn't she thought him constant before? Wasn't that one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him in the first place?
Once upon a time, Hank had walked out of her life. He had disappeared once, and he was perfectly capable of disappearing again. What if, when she told him, he was gone the next day, with only a note left behind on the door? Lana, sorry, couldn't stay. Super complicated. Hank.
"Ugh!" Now both hands were in her hair,
clenching it into a snarled mess. It wasn't just her heart but her brain that felt like it was about to split in two.
What was the matter with her? Wasn't she the steady soul that everyone came to with their problems?
She could fix things for others, why couldn't she fix this for herself? It was like her clarity had vanished the moment Hank came back to town. Her superpowers were gone, and everything had gotten itself into an awful tangle.
Especially her hair.
Lana removed her hands from her poor abused scalp, closed her eyes, and breathed. She opened them again and began to tease out the inadvertent knots she had made.
A rumble further down the road roused her attention, and she looked up just in time to see the Alaska squad's loaner coming around the corner.
Lana rose and smoothed out the front of her dress. She hitched the hand that clutched her cell behind her back as if she had been caught in a criminal act and lifted her other hand in a wave.
"That was quick!" she called as Hank got out of the pickup. It was a lie. His trip had felt like anything but. She’d had an entire existential crisis in the relatively short time it took him to get his belongings, and she wasn't even sure she had come to its conclusion yet. "Need help with anything?"
"Nah." Hank lifted one bag down out of the truck bed, then patted its side like it was a steed to be commended for carrying him this far.
At his signal, Landon backed the truck out of the driveway.
Chase hung out of the passenger window and offered her a grin and a thumbs-up. "See you later, Lana! Hank told us to fuck off!" he crowed.
Lana had to laugh at this, and at the ugly expression on Hank's face as he waved them off. She had no doubt that what Chase claimed was absolutely true.
"Is that really everything?" she asked curiously as Hank dropped his bag at her feet.
"Told them to take the rest over to the rental for me," Hank said. "But now that you mention it, I always try to pack light."
Burning Flame: Californian Wildfire Fighters Book Three Page 6