Light Her Fire

by Samanthe Beck

  …

  Josh had never run across a football field with a hard-on before, and now he knew why. The pounding in his dick intensified with every step. He rounded the bleachers convinced the inventor of the zipper was a sadist.

  Then he saw her and stopped short. Melody leaned against a bleacher support post, arms behind her back, one leg bent at the knee and a white-sneakered foot propped on the metal pole. Her snug, sleeveless Bluelick Buffalos vest adhered to every curve, and a matching short blue-and-white pleated skirt skimmed the tops of her thighs. A gym bag sat on the ground a few feet away.

  “Hello, Chief.”

  “Hello, Bluelick.” He closed the distance between them. “Nice outfit.”

  She smiled. “I hoped you’d like it. I used to wear it all the time, but we didn’t know each other back then…”

  “Damn shame.”

  “Probably for the best. My parents wouldn’t have approved of you. Not the way you’re looking at me right now.”

  He moved closer and picked up a scent coming off her—something sweet and bubble-gummy and instantly evocative of high school. Shit, she’d gone all out. “How am I looking at you?”

  “Like you want to pop my cherry.”

  “If I’d known you in high school, seen you walking the halls on game days in that little sweater and skirt, I would have been obsessed with popping your cherry.”

  She lowered her foot and toed the ground coyly, looked up, and gave him a nervous giggle. “I might have been tempted to let you, but all your intensity probably would have scared me away. A girl can be a little skittish when it’s her first time.”

  He braced a hand over her head on the bleacher support and leaned in…oh yeah, bubble gum lip gloss and a powdery perfume he could almost picture occupying the cluttered top shelf of a pink-decorated locker. “I’d have sweet-talked you until you gave it up to me.”

  She tipped her head back so her lips came close to his. “You don’t have any sweet talk in you.”

  “I’d have found some for you. Told you how pretty you are.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “How I sit behind you in algebra and imagine what this hair would feel like sliding over my skin. Or how some afternoons when I’m supposed to be in the weight room working out, I sneak over to the window and take in your cheer practices, because I love to watch your br—anatomy bounce around in this sweater.” He eased a hand up her side, closing in on the anatomy in question.

  She batted his hand away. “I would have been turned on, and not really sure what was happening inside me, but I would have been too aware of my reputation to stand here and let you touch my goodies.”

  “That’s when I would have done this.” He lifted her chin a notch and brought his lips down on hers, gently at first, with no tongue, as if she really were a nervous virgin. Damn if the sweetness of the kiss didn’t tighten his chest. Suddenly, he wished they had been teenagers together, that they’d taken their first fumbling steps into sex with each other. But no, the privilege had gone to Roger. Good thing, a rational part of his mind pointed out, considering without the Roger detour in her life, she’d probably be married with kids by now. An image of her pushing a stroller down Main Street next to some guy his imagination refused to fill in clearly formed in his mind, and a shock of something dangerously close to jealousy shot through him. Against her mouth he said, “I should bend you over a bleacher and spank you for reminding me I wasn’t your first.”

  Her laugh vibrated against his lips. She drew back an inch, her expression full of mock horror. “That definitely would have scared me off. Remember”—she clasped her hands at the back of his neck and snugged her breasts against his chest in a kittenish gesture—“I’m only sixteen, and I’ve been a very good girl. You need to be on your best behavior if you expect to get to first base.”

  “Bluelick, I’ll have you begging me to take you all the way home.”

  She parted her lips to respond, but he cupped the back of her head and brought his mouth down on hers again. This time he took advantage, swept his tongue past her lips, supported her neck while he tipped her head back to an angle of complete surrender, and unleashed the kind of long, deep, persuasive kiss he hadn’t resorted to since he’d been a teen. The kind of all-out kiss a guy used when the good girl on the receiving end might actually draw the line at necking.

  The good girl on the receiving end of this one tightened her grip on his neck and made a mewling sound in the back of her throat. He sent his free hand under her sweater, up her back, and discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra. He brought his hand around front and touched her breast.

  She moaned and arched into him. He lifted his head and waited until her eyes opened and focused on him. “First base.”

  “So right now I’d be freaking out because I’ve never let a guy get to first base before, and I didn’t know it would make me so excited, and…wet.”

  The hushed words made him groan and he reached for the hem of her skirt to check for himself. She caught his wrist and shook her head. “We can’t. I have to be home by curfew or I’ll be in big trouble.”

  Holy shit, this game was going to kill him. His cock throbbed so hard he could barely think. “I’ll drive you home in time.” He kissed his way down her throat. “You won’t get in trouble.”

  Her hands speared into his hair. Her head dropped back. “Are you sure?”

  “I promise.” With that, he eased her sweater up and bared her breasts. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Only you. You’re the only girl I care about.” And then, because tonight she was a nervous virgin, he asked, “Can I kiss you here?” and touched his lips to her tight nipple.

  She bowed her back. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. “Just for a minute.”

  The location, her outfit, and the scent of her perfume all transported him back in time. He kissed her breasts gently, reverently, as if he really was a teenager again, but this time lucky enough to have the girl of his dreams in his arms, and determined not to scare her off. He figured he’d succeeded when, a minute later, she arched and squirmed against him, trying to get closer. He abandoned her breasts and traced a hot trail down her fluttering abdomen. When he reached the waistband of her skirt, he looked up at her. “Lift your skirt.”

  Her breasts rose and fell. Need—a very grown-up need—burned in her eyes, but still she lowered her lashes shyly. “I shouldn’t—”

  “You should. You’re so fucking pretty. I need to see all of you, baby. Just a peek.”

  “Okay.” She said it fast, like she couldn’t believe she was agreeing. “No touching.”

  He knelt in front of her, forgetting to breathe, as she pinched the hem of her skirt between her index finger and thumb, and slowly raised it to reveal a tidy strip of blond curls. Breath rushed out of his lungs on a curse. “Jesus, Bluelick, you’ve been standing here this whole time with no panties on, wearing a scrap of a skirt that barely covers anything?”

  She blinked at him, all innocence. “I had to take them off. They got so damp while I was back here waiting for you, wondering if you’d try to kiss me, and…take liberties…and wondering what I’d say if you did try.”

  “You can stop wondering. I’m going to take liberties, and you’re going to say yes.” He got to his feet, prepared to deliver on the promise, but a movement in the shadows under the bleachers caught his eye.

  “Shit.” He shot up, pushed Melody behind him, and zipped his jeans, all the while keeping his gaze on the place where he’d seen movement. The waning daylight didn’t help much.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Shh.” There it was. A crouched figure crawled along the narrow end of the mental structure and then froze, as whoever lurked there sensed he’d gone from the observer to the observed. Josh took a step closer and their voyeur bolted like a jackrabbit out the opening at the side of the bleachers.

  “Who was that?” Now she whispered, even as the rapid f
ootfalls grew distant.

  “I don’t know.” He looked at her, taking in the big eyes and pale face. Her clothes, mercifully, were in order, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t seen plenty if they’d parked themselves in their hidey-hole early on. Like before he’d arrived. A chill swept through him at the idea of Melody waiting back here, alone and unaware, while some pervert watched.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “Josh—”

  He took off running. The guy had a decent head start, but even if he couldn’t catch the bastard, he wanted to try to get a look at him. Maybe recognize him. When he rounded the bleachers, he saw the dark-clad figure on the other side of the football field already, running toward the path between the gymnasium and the main building of the school. Whoever it was wore nondescript jeans, an un-tucked gray T-shirt, and ball cap. Male. Five nine or five ten, Josh estimated, a hundred and sixty pounds, and nimble as a fucking ferret. Josh was built for bursts of speed and strength, not distance, and with each passing second the pervert widened his lead.

  Keenly aware he’d left Melody alone behind the bleachers, he slowed, made a turn, and jogged back the way he’d come. She met him at the edge of the field and gave him a cautious smile. “I think somebody is trying to teach me an important lesson about the privacy of my own home.”

  He admired her resilience, but he wasn’t embracing the humor of the situation quite yet. “Did you recognize him?”

  “No. Not from this distance. He moved like a young guy, and this is a high school.” Her smile twisted into a cringe. “We probably just corrupted some poor innocent minor.”

  “Poor innocent minor? What the hell was some ‘poor innocent minor’ doing under the bleachers? School’s been out since May. It’s damn near seven in the evening. Any poor innocent minors should be home having dinner with their family right now, not sneaking around spying on people. Anybody with an ounce of decency would have coughed or cleared their throat the minute he saw me kiss you.”

  She reached out and smoothed the scowl off his forehead. “Chief Bradley, are you mad at me?”

  The question surprised him. “No.”

  “Then why are you yelling at me?”

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and told himself to get his shit under control. “I’m not. I’m just…yelling in general. Dammit. Some little pervert had his eyes on you. If I find him, I’m going to tear them out of his head and stomp on them. What if I’d been late? Would he have been satisfied to wait in the shadows and watch you, or would he have decided to make a move?”

  “This is Bluelick. Things like that don’t happen here.”

  He had her by the shoulders before he knew what he was doing, and just managed to hold himself back from giving her a shake. If she honestly believed what she’d just said, someone needed to shake some sense into her. Someone like Ellie or Ginny. Not someone a head taller and seventy pounds heavier. He settled for looking her in the eye and saying as firmly as he knew how, “Melody, things like that happen everywhere. Bad seeds crop up in small communities, not just big cities. The only difference here in Bluelick is you might recognize your assailant.”

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open, and for one awful moment he thought he’d actually frightened her with his manhandling, but then she whispered, “Josh. Look.”

  Before he could turn, the wail of a fire alarm shattered the evening.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Smoke tendrils wafted skyward from somewhere on the opposite side of the Bluelick High School gymnasium. Josh turned back to Melody. She stared at the smoke. “What should I do?”

  “Do you have your phone with you?”

  Her gaze shifted to him. “In my gym bag.”

  “Call the fire station. Tell them there’s gray smoke coming from the south side of the gym and let them know I’m already on-scene so they don’t blast me with a hose when they get here.”

  “Okay. I’m on it.”

  He ran toward the smoke. When he rounded the side of the gym he saw the source. Not the structure itself, but a wooden shed abutting the brick wall. Flames licked their way up one side, and the smoke, or the alarm, already attracted a few other responders. Kenny Whelan, metalhead stoner and school janitor, came running from the school office.

  Kenny lugged two twenty-pound dry chemical extinguishers. Josh took one of the cans from him. “Wait here,” he said, and approached the burning shed. Not a smart move, procedurally, given he wore no protective gear and didn’t know whether there were any combustibles stored inside, but the fire hadn’t made a ton of headway yet and he gambled he could knock it back with twenty pounds of foam. He had the second can if it took a little more to put it down completely.

  He aimed at the base of the flames sprayed in a back-and-forth motion. A second spray of foam came from somewhere on his right. He looked up to find Rusty manning the other extinguisher. A minute later they were staring at a foam-covered mess of charred wood on the scorched side of the shed. Rusty hit the side of the shed again, either due to adrenaline or a desire to show off for the small crowd of onlookers now gathered. Most had probably rushed over from the Hungry Buffalo burger joint across the street.

  Sirens blared from the front of the school—the cavalry arriving. Josh put his extinguisher down and scanned the people at the scene. Kenny, he noted, wore jeans, a gray T-shirt, and a Kentucky Wildcats ball cap. Was this their audience from under the bleachers? Kenny’s scraggly blond ponytail hung out the back hole of the cap, and Josh hated to think he’d have missed that detail, even at a distance, but he couldn’t be sure. Melody, thankfully, had changed into workout pants and a sweatshirt. She was probably burning up in the sweatshirt, but he was glad the rest of Bluelick wasn’t going to be treated to the sight of her in her cheerleading outfit. Next to them stood a couple of waitresses from the Hungry Buffalo. A few more people he recognized by face only lingered in the crowd, and, on the very edge, Justin Buchanan—wearing jeans, a gray T-shirt with a designer logo splashed across the chest, and a ball cap.

  As he watched, Justin’s mouth twisted into a tight grin and he wandered closer to Melody. “Bet you’re hot in that sweatshirt. I liked your other outfit better.”

  His last thread of control snapped. He stalked over to the teen, intercepting him. Hell, no. “You”—he extended a finger as a warning—“you don’t look at her. You don’t speak to her. You don’t even think about her.”

  “Are you shitting me? I’ll talk to whoever I want.” He glanced over at Melody. “Tell your redheaded friend ‘hi’ for me.”

  He got right up in Justin’s face and grabbed a handful of the overpriced T-shirt when the little bastard would have backed away. “Try me, Justin. Try me and find out if I’m shitting you.”

  “Let go of me, asshole, or my dad’s going to hear about this.”

  “Fine with me. Give him a call right now. Ask him to come rescue you.”

  Justin turned a satisfying shade of red, but the satisfaction faded fast because Melody rushed over. “Josh, don’t.”

  “Bluelick…”

  Before he could tell her to move back, a restraining hand curled around his arm. He looked over to find a uniformed deputy.

  “Hey, Chief. Another fire?”

  Josh turned back to Justin, bared his teeth in what might pass as a smile, and released him. “If you’re so anxious to strike up a conversation with someone, talk to us.” Josh indicated himself and the deputy. “How about you tell us where you were when you noticed the fire.”

  “What the hell, man, I was over there.” He pointed across the street to the Hungry Buffalo. Josh looked at the waitresses. One of them nodded. “He was. He ran over here with the rest of us.”

  “How long had he been there?”

  She shook her head, her dark bangs dancing over her forehead. “I don’t know. We were busy, and it’s seat yourself, so…”

  Justin’s lips quirked again and Josh fought the urge to smack the smirk off his face.
Disappointing as it was to acknowledge, there was no way Justin could have set the fire in between getting chased across the football field and arriving at the restaurant—not in time to be a bystander. Whoever had torched the shed had hauled a gallon of accelerant to the site, splashed it around, and fanned the flames until they’d taken hold. The fire had been set by the time Josh had chased Justin across the football field. Which didn’t mean the kid was innocent, only that he hadn’t lit the match.

  “Why don’t we run your hands under a black light and see if you’re the one who pulled the fire alarm?” There was no “special chemical” coating the fire alarms, but Justin probably didn’t know that.

  “Uh, Chief?”

  Josh looked at the janitor. “Yeah, Kenny?”

  “I pulled the fire alarm. When I saw the smoke, I unlocked the gym and pulled the alarm. Then I carried the fire extinguishers over here.”

  Rusty laughed. “Congratulations, Chief, you cracked the case.”

  Josh wanted to punch something. Fuck it. So much for nailing down Justin’s whereabouts to anything except being inside the diner seconds before the fire alarm had gone off. He looked at Rusty. “You were here fast. Did you see anything useful?”

  The red-haired man shrugged. “Only thing I saw was the smoke. I was walking into the Hungry Buffalo and hurried over. You were already here when I arrived. You, Kenny, and Melody.”

  The deputy pointed at him, then Rusty, Dolores, Kenny, and Justin. “You five, don’t go anywhere.” He raised his voice to the rest of the onlookers. “The rest of you, please disperse.”

  Shit.

  …

  “You can’t send a man into Dalton’s Drugs to buy you pregnancy tests, take them in front of him, and then avoid his calls.”

  Melody used her shoulder to tuck her phone to her ear and resumed chopping veggies for a salad. “Roger, as soon as I know, you’ll know. Ellie took my blood this morning. She expects lab results Friday…Monday at the latest.”

  “Six positive home pregnancy tests don’t leave much room for doubt. I was calling to find out what Josh said when you told him.”