Burn

by Shey Stahl

  “That freestyle racer who won the X-Games?”

  “Yeah, that one.” She holds up her phone, pointing to a news article on Twitter. “He had this childhood girlfriend, or not even a girlfriend anymore but a friend he was constantly trying to save, but she’s like, a coke whore or something like that. Anyway, he left town a couple days ago, and she killed herself tonight.”

  I know I’m supposed to act surprised, but I don’t. I’ve seen too much in this world to be surprised by anything. “Shitty.”

  Jacey slaps her hand against my chest. “Dude, that’d be like me killing myself. You’d totally cry if that happened.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’d take your bedroom though. I hate the loft.”

  She kicks my shin. Hard. “You would too be sad.”

  “Whatever.” I’m more concerned with how cold I am than this conversation and I think she can tell but my lack of attention and my intent stare on the floor numbers trying to speed them up.

  “Why are all firefighters so hardened by everything?”

  I’m surprised she’s asking this. Jacey knows more than most because she hears us talking sometimes. “Probably for the same reason you don’t take shit from drunk men. You get used to the same bullshit every day.”

  ONCE INSIDE THE apartment, I stumble up the stairs and into the shower to warm up. And think of Mila which then leads to my hand moving toward my cock. It begins to stir, filling, lengthening and begging for some attention.

  My mind drifts to her pussy and her pink lips spread and flushed before me that night. Her tiny clit peeking out from beneath its hood. Drawing in a sharp breath, I pour some soap in my hand and then grip my cock firmly, sliding it over my length once, increasing the pressure at the tip.

  The fantasy of my cock being sucked into her mouth, the tip licked by her soft tongue, my hips twitch, thrusting into my hand. My body remembers fucking her with my tongue, the tightness, the warmth and the way she undulated against my mouth when she came.

  My mouth opens, and I draw in a breath to keep from moaning, my stomach tightening sharply. My hand tightens and speeds up. I can’t hold on any longer. With a groan, I reach out with one hand against the tile wall and come all over my hand.

  What is it about her I can’t shake?

  I SPENT NEW Year’s morning telling myself I will never drink again. Until dinner that night at my parents’ house where my dad and I finished off that bottle of Midleton we started on Christmas. And all the while I sat on the couch, upset I didn’t get Mila’s number or at least find out where she worked so I could find her.

  “You need help. How are you even going to function at work today?” Jacey asks when I stumble as I’m putting on my shoes.

  I take the coffee she hands me. “I don’t drink on days I have to work or I’m on call.”

  “Yeah but you do every other day.”

  With a fake smile, I open the front door. “Well, how ’bout this . . . I’ll quit drinking when you finally tell Evan how you feel?”

  She flips me off. I guess that’s a no. Last night she broke her resolution. She made it one day before she snuck over to his apartment at two in the morning.

  It’s three days after New Year’s when I’m back on duty at the station. During truck assignment, Captain informs me Jay and I are assigned to assist in a hotel inspection on E Denny Way at the Wellington Suites.

  Cap looks at Finn, and then me. “Take the probie with you.”

  Jay and I groan. “Why?”

  Cap flips his hand at us. “Because I fuckin’ said so, assholes.”

  Cap’s a great guy to work for.

  Though I don’t particularly like doing fire inspection because it’s not firefighting, every year high rise hotels are required to have an inspection of their sprinkler systems and fire alarms. Mostly because not only do these high risers hold dangers for the guests staying in them, but they’re some of our biggest enemies. Lots of places for fire to hide.

  Firefighters aren’t good at anything besides fighting fire. And drinking. And if you’re Owen, you’re uncannily good at baseball.

  I say that because most of us have seen so much shit over the years, we’re no longer normal, and can’t act normal if we’re not making fun of someone. Most of us suffer from shift insomnia, which is where the drinking comes into play, and border on depressed. We seldom make relationships work, and we have a hard time coexisting. We’re impatient, we’re angry, we’re annoyed, but we’re good guys, and we can save your life when you need us to.

  We chose firefighting because that’s what we know. Somewhere along the lines, we fell in love with fire and there’s no going back.

  And let me be clear, I say we can’t function because we seem to lack patience and understanding for what’s going on around us.

  Take my brother Gavin for example. He’s twenty-four, married and has two kids. He doesn’t even know where my nieces go to school nor could he remember a birthday or anniversary without his wife telling him, but he loves his family with so much passion he doesn’t need to remember those details.

  We all fall in love with fire for different reasons. Owen, I’m positive he spent his childhood being treated for pyromania. It led to a career as a firefighter.

  I’ll admit I am obsessed with it too. It’s something that forms early on for us and, for me, it probably started with that fire that took my parents and brother.

  “JESUS, THIS BUILDING is huge and looks sorely out of place in this neighborhood,” Jay notes as we’re getting out of the truck.

  It is huge. I’ve seen this building before. I’ve actually been in it a time or two for inspections, and I think a couple calls here and there. It’s a relatively quiet part of the city.

  It’s a beautiful hotel. I’d never be able to afford to stay here, but it’s nice as hell.

  Joe, the fire inspector from the fire marshal’s office, takes point and greets the front desk staff.

  Jay and I hang back near the doors looking over the vast wall of windows, and the probie’s staring at a glass sculpture in the corner.

  “Hey.” Jay nods to me. “When’s Olivia’s birthday party?”

  He’s talking about Gavin’s daughter, and I don’t remember. I know they told me, but I usually rely on my mom sending me a text message the night before family functions. “I don’t remember.”

  Jay chuckles, his hands in the pockets of his blue slacks. “Figures.” And then I notice he’s scratching his balls.

  “Are you allergic to your boxers, man?”

  “No.” He looks surprised by my question but answers anyway. “I shaved my balls. Now they itch.”

  “Stop touching yourself.” I side-eye him but stare out the windows at the passing cars on the street and the bellman parking cars. “You’re in public.”

  “Why is he itching himself?” Finn asks, intrigued, coming to stand beside us.

  “He shaved his balls.”

  “Hey, stop busting my balls. I thought maybe it might convince Brynn to give me head, but nope. Baby was sick all weekend.”

  “Does it make it look bigger?” Finn asks. “I’ve always wondered but haven’t done it yet.”

  “Shut up.” Jay shakes his head. “Why’d we get stuck with the probie today?”

  “Cap’s pissed off at me over that football player. He apparently called the Chief about it and threatened to sue the department.”

  Jay whistles but doesn’t say anything. I’ve been in hot water with the chief more times than I care to admit.

  Joe calls out to us, motioning for us to come over to the front desk where a woman stands with a smile. “How can I help you, gentleman?”

  “We’re here to perform your annual fire inspection. I spoke with Mr. Wellington this morning. He said Mrs. Wellington would be able to help us.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Joe with the Fire Marshal’s office.” He motions to the rest of us. “That’s Caleb, Jay, and Finn with the Seattle Fire Department.”

  The woman behind the count
er assesses the four of us, and you know, I gotta say she’s kind of bitchy and exactly who I’d expect to be working in a place like this. “I’ll let Ms. Wellington know you’re here.”

  She takes off around the corner behind the double doors to her right. My attention moves to the lobby of the hotel. It’s impressive. Reminds me of the hotels in Las Vegas.

  “Are you Ms. Wellington?” Joe asks, the click of heels against tile drawing my attention over my shoulder.

  I turn, and my heart drops to my goddamn knees. I can’t fucking believe it. It’s her. It the girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about at the hotel.

  “Oh, uh, yes. That’s me. I’m Mila Wellington.”

  Seeing her now, my memory of her doesn’t do me justice. It’s the first chance I’ve gotten to see her in the morning light and get a good look at her.

  Flashes of that night with her hit me all at once, and I hate these fucking pants. It’s going to be totally obvious if I get hard, so I shove my hands into my pockets to mask the semi I’m already sporting.

  Her long brown hair is in loose curls draping over her shoulders, her lips, bright red, and those fucking eyes I couldn’t forget take my breath away. It’s her. It’s really her, and now that I’ve seen her, I can’t stop staring or form a word.

  Jay elbows me. “Dude, you’re drooling.”

  I clear my throat awkwardly. I haven’t had a reaction like this since I saw pair tits in real life for the first time when I was thirteen.

  Mila stares back at me, gasping. “Caleb . . . um . . . I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I smirk, winking at her. “That makes two of us, honey.”

  Immediately she steps away from me, like she didn’t like what I just said and suddenly she’s formal, her posture straightening when a man in a black suit walks by us.

  Mila motions us forward. “I’ll show you around, gentlemen.”

  Gentlemen? Where’d that come from?

  The entire hour we’re there, Mila doesn’t talk to me again, even when I try to get her alone at one point. She ignores me, as if I wasn’t even there.

  Not a single fucking glance my direction or even a goodbye.

  Backflow Preventer

  Automatic valve used in hose accessories to ensure water flows only in one direction. Used in permanent fire department connections (FDC) to sprinklers and dry standpipes, as well as portable devices used in firefighting.

  So I’m a fucking idiot. Who reacts that way?

  Me.

  I do.

  I did.

  I have some explaining to do. I shouldn’t have treated him that way, and I know it. I checked out the signatures on the inspection report before I left the hotel and found out the station he worked at. Station 25 on Pine Street.

  I head straight there after work, and to my surprise, he’s inside and the doors are open in the garage where the fire trucks are.

  He’s standing leaned against the side of a truck, his arms crossed over his chest and sexy as a fucking sin. “You again?”

  I release a pained laugh, feeling like an idiot coming here and step toward him. “So you’re really a firefighter?”

  Dumb. So stupid.

  He laughs and looks at me like he can’t believe I asked that. I can’t believe I asked it. “I told you that night I was,” he mumbles, burying his hands in the pockets of his navy blue slacks. “It wasn’t just a ploy to get in bed, you know.”

  “Yes, I know that.” I glance up at him keeping my chin tucked in, nervously chewing on the corner of my lip. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

  This time he laughs like I’m funny. “For what?”

  I drop my shoulders forward, my voice lowering even more. The frigid air causes me to wrap my arms around my waist, hoping it provides me with some comfort from the cold. “For the way I acted back at the hotel earlier. For being mean to you. I shouldn’t have acted that way. I swear I’m not that kind of girl.”

  He makes a humming sound and steps forward, leaning into me as he asks, “What kind of girl are you?”

  I don’t even know how to answer that. What kind of girl am I?

  I’m certainly not the one to snub him in front of everyone, but again, I am that girl for some reason.

  And then he’s smiling, and it’s adorable, and I totally understand why I wanted to call 911 so many times the other night. “Don’t smile at me like that.”

  The smile slowly disappears from his face and he drops his gaze to the ground. For a moment, they stay there and then he raises them to meet mine again, confusion strewn across his face. “You don’t want me smiling at you?”

  “No, I don’t,” I say. “I don’t want you to smile at me like that because the last time you did, I took you home, or you took me home, and I don’t want to flirt with you, or take you home. I’m hungry. So I want you to stop smiling like that and take me to dinner.”

  He slowly inhales, staring down at me. “So you want me to take you to dinner and then take you home?”

  Of course he throws the last part in there.

  I return his heated stare. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  We hold each other’s gaze before his smile forms. “Under one condition.”

  I wait and bite my lip to keep from smiling myself, holding my breath as I wait on his condition. “And that is?”

  “You give me round three in the morning,” he says with a smug grin turns up the corner of his mouth, as though he knows I won’t deny him. Not this time anyway. “But it’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow. I don’t get off until tomorrow morning.”

  Damn it. My face falls. “Oh, okay.”

  My gaze moves to the fire trucks and the idea of him just fucking me up against the side of this red beast is so vivid my nipples harden.

  I take a step back, as if the conversation is over, but Caleb doesn’t move. He stands there, eyes searching, continuing to pull at parts of me that don’t need to be pulled at. They need to be spanked. By him. Crap.

  I lick my lips. I shift my feet, nervously.

  “Come here,” he finally says.

  He stares at me, steps forward and lifts my chin with two fingers. It’s right then I notice if I don’t move, he’s going to kiss me.

  I don’t move.

  He glances over his shoulder and then back to me. And then he kisses me, and I’m nearly a puddle at his feet. I’ve waited over a week for these lips to find mine again and now that they have, I don’t care that we have to wait until tomorrow. I’m ready to drop to the floor right here and fuck him.

  I don’t. I’ve got to salvage some of my dignity. What’s left of it these days.

  He breaks our kiss rather quickly and reaches for my hand, leading me inside the firehouse on the other side of the truck.

  He scoops me off my feet. There’s a moment before his kisses me, before his calloused hand finds the back of my head and deepens the kiss where we stare at one another. I’m not sure what to make of the way he’s looking at me, but it’s still there. It’s intense, maybe too intense for someone like me, but I certainly don’t miss it. In the back of my mind, I’ll be trying to decipher its meaning later, but not now.

  Caleb kisses me then, and this isn’t a kiss a boy would give you. It’s a motherfucking man kissing me. He opens his mouth and lets me sweep my tongue inside his and then grips the sides of my face, deepening the kiss. It’s the kind of kiss that reminds me of the elevator ride to his apartment that night.

  I’m certain, if I have nothing else in life, I could spend the rest of my days kissing Caleb. Pathetic, I know, but it’s a truth.

  He moans against my lips and takes a step forward. My arms circle around his neck, surrendering to him and the moment with him, my back pressed against the side of the fire truck. It’s cold, but compared to the heat between us, everything feels hot.

  “I tried to find you.” He groans against my lips, inhaling and exhaling slowly as we kiss.

  I gasp and draw back, my hands moving to the top
s of his shoulders as I level him a serious look. “Me too. I went back to Lil Woodies and sat outside your apartment all night.”

  He nods and then dips his head forward again, capturing my lips with his. Our moment together grows heavy with want. His tongue is warm and wet and slides easily against my tongue.

  He never stops kissing me; he simply steals my breath and then returns it to me.

  Just as I’m contemplating asking for him to, you know, slip it in, someone clears their throat behind us. It’s Owen, smiling.

  “Department regulation, no fucking in the firehouse unless it’s your own hand,” Owen tells me, winking. “But maybe he can borrow your hand.”

  Caleb steps back. “Don’t you have something to do?” he asks Owen, and then adjusts himself in front of the both of us, much like he did in the elevator.

  I wish my mouth was his hand.

  Owen smirks and walks the other way. “Oh, probably.”

  Still trying to catch my breath from the kiss, I run my palms over my shirt. “I should go. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  He nods. “Probably a good idea.”

  Just before I’m out the doors, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to his chest. “I’m really glad you decided to be less of a bitch.”

  I laugh. “You’re welcome, Caleb.”

  He tosses his head back in laughter, seeming to understand our little joke but it’s his cocky grin he flashes me that’s burned into my mind as I walk away without another word.

  IT’S THE LONGEST day of my life and it’s only nine in the morning. I’ve been at work for four hours already. I’m at the front desk when Scarlet comes up to me dressed in her maid uniform and looking pretty pissed off.

  “What?” I don’t know why I ask because I know what she’s going to say.

  “Shade won’t let anyone in his room for turndown service. How can I present myself naked in his bed if he won’t even let the maid in?”

  I glance around the lobby and the guests checking in. I can’t talk about this here. Taking Scarlet by the arm, I make her walk with me to the restaurant where I need to find Willa. “He checked out.”