Love Burns

by Babette James

  “What started you with music?”

  “We had an old upright piano in the Malibu house. I played by ear from the time I could hike myself up on the bench. They never replaced the piano in Oregon. I missed it bad. Nate’s parents also dragged my ass to their church. They had a cool music director. Ms. Elliott played the organ and the guitar. She ignored my being a wiseass and had me busting my butt with odd jobs and yard work to earn lessons and buy my first guitar.”

  A rush of happiness filtered in over the bad memories.

  “Nate played trumpet and Lloyd trombone, and damn, they sucked, but they had fun and I was jealous. I stopped trying to be cool, joined band, and soon I was having fun too. That Christmas, Nate’s and Lloyd’s parents gave me a small keyboard. Our high school music teacher played bass in a heavy metal band and proved you could love Beethoven and Tchaikovsky without being a musical elitist. I dropped football for track, put my need to run to good use, and the coach nudged me into cross-country.”

  He dragged in a heavy breath, drowning under the intense memories. “Looking back, I was a lucky kid. One, that I had all these people willing to ignore my bad attitude and help me, and two, that I actually paid attention to them. My parents and I never clicked back together as a family. I think they were mostly surprised I didn’t end up in jail. Mom died my sophomore year in college.”

  Accidental fucking overdose, my ass. He swallowed the sick anger.

  “Dad followed her five months later.” What a lame statement for that hellish day.

  Livie gasped and tightened her arm around him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t find the words for the truth: how he’d slammed through the front door in a fury because he’d yet again stupidly trusted Dad to keep his promise to pick him up from the airport, only to find him on the living room floor, eyes empty, already going cold from a heart attack.

  He stared out at the boats, hating the old body blows of grief and rage. Bad year that year, but the Quinns and Sayers had been there for him, as always.

  “So, back to why a firefighter: partly thanks to Nate’s and Lloyd’s dads being more stubborn than me, partly because I found I could stop what happened to me as a kid from happening to other people, and, yeah, partly for the rush. It’s a hell of a rush.”

  Echoes of that rush made him grin and ache.

  “I discovered skydiving my freshman year in college. Some kids had jobs for beer money or for a car. I worked for skydiving money. When I learned I could combine the skydiving, the firefighting, and being out in the wilderness—hell, smokejumping was career love at first sight.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Can’t get my head around that it’s over.”

  Was this gutted, silent void what his parents had felt after the fire?

  “What did you study in college?”

  “Biology. Went to the same school as Nate and Lloyd. That’s where we met Christopher and Scott. Got decent grades, but I should have applied myself more. I was too into firefighting to consider the future. I liked composing and I crammed in every music course I could, but didn’t apply myself there either.”

  He shrugged and took a long draw of beer. What was with his motor mouth? The last time he’d spilled so much personal stuff was to Kay, and that had taken getting drunk first. Enough.

  Dave patted her hip. “Let’s join the others.”

  ****

  Act normal.

  The next morning, Olivia repeated this order all along her walk to Spider Camp. However, acting normal was difficult with the amazed blushes ambushing her and the pleasurable achiness from yesterday’s lovemaking.

  As she walked down the trail, Dave left the table and greeted her with a casual kiss to her cheek. “I’ll get your coffee for you.” He headed to the coffee pot, stretching lazily, shoulder and back muscles rippling.

  Desire’s frustrated surge drowned common sense. She wanted more than one passing kiss.

  She’d just settled into the chair beside Margie, when he returned carrying two travel mugs.

  “Let’s go fishing?” He caught her hand, grinning as he tugged her from her seat.

  Anticipation sparkled and zipped. “Sure. I’d like to learn to cast properly.”

  “Grab your bag then. We’ll eat breakfast onboard. Everything’s loaded.” He turned to the others. “We’ll see you later. Supper.”

  He towed her to the boat, barely pausing for her to grab her bag, hat, and vest, and wave goodbye.

  As he backed out the boat, she settled into her seat. Besides the fishing equipment, he’d loaded a cooler, duffel bag, sun shelter, and beach blanket.

  “All this for fishing? Or are we running away from home?”

  He laughed sharply and broke into a broad grin. “Breakfast is in the cooler.”

  Two thick sandwiches rested at the top, oozing peanut butter and strawberry jam.

  She laughed. “Peanut butter and jelly?”

  “Breakfast of champions.”

  They ate their sticky sandwiches and sipped coffee, enjoying the cool, leisurely cruise over glassy water. Like yesterday, Dave checked out several locations before settling on a sheltered cove with a small clean beach.

  Frustration curled through her as they set up their picnicking site. But for the heat in his eyes as she’d licked jam from her fingers earlier, she’d almost think yesterday was her imagination. Truthfully, she had no desire to fish or swim or lounge in the sun. She wanted one thing: Dave.

  However, Dave opened the tackle box. “A couple things I should have showed you yesterday to make casting easier, but we were mostly dropping the line over the side. Okay?”

  “Sure.” She sighed and joined him.

  He selected an odd-shaped sinker, removed the hook from one fishing line and added the sinker. “Casting plug.” Dave was a puzzle. He’d gone to such effort to get them alone when they could have fished at camp. Perhaps this was best. Yesterday had been wonderfully crazy. Today was time to take this whole—affair, relationship, thing—slow and sensible.

  But she craved more.

  “Grip the rod in your right hand.” He turned the long rod so the reel hung below and adjusted her grip. “Get the base of the reel between your middle and ring fingers and grip firm. How’s that feel?”

  Her grip felt strange, but more balanced. “Good. This reel is different from yesterday.”

  “That was just a spincaster. Good for the kids. You’ll like this spinning reel better.” He nudged her, sliding a slow hand over her hip. “Move that foot a little, there. Good.” He caressed her rear and let go.

  “Now, you want about six inches of line there free between the tip and the lure. Then, pinch the line between your finger and rod.” He adjusted her index finger. “There. Nice and firm. That keeps the line from moving when you open the bail. You’ll flip open the bail with your left hand. Ready?”

  “Ready as I get.”

  “We’re going to cast overhand first. After we get this way down, I’ll show you sidearm. Keep that finger tight on the line, and you’ll cock the rod back over your right shoulder, so the reel’s kinda pointed up.” He skimmed callused fingertips over her, and drew her into the gentle cage of his arms and hands, his chest brushing her back, sun-warmed bare skin meeting bare skin. “Like this.”

  As he guided her through the move, needy heat swiftly turned resolve to be sensible to melted fudge, and focusing on his lesson and off pressing her body into his took effort. Oh, yes, how skillfully he’d used those hands yesterday…

  “You’re ready to cast. Now, feel the motion. Most of it’s in the wrist and forearm.” His breath feathered over her cheek as he led her into bringing the rod back, their bodies swaying together. “You’re going to do that, but fast, and when you stop, here”—he paused with the rod pointing nearly vertical—“take your finger off the line and let her fly.”

  Oh, she wanted to fly. She sighed, body softening into his as he reset their position.

  “Rea
dy to do it?”

  Do…Oh, right. Casting, not…the other. Focus.

  He patted her hip. “Livie?”

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “For real this time. Here we go.” He slid his hands, easing her into position. A swift draw back of the rod, a swift flick forward and, at his “Now!” she released the line and the plug whizzed through the air to plunk into the water.

  “Great job. Reel on in and try it on your own.” Teasing a kiss to her neck, he patted her rear, and stepped away.

  Wanting to whimper at her heightened frustration, she frowned at the line spooling onto her reel.

  Well, he did ask if you wanted to go fishing.

  The toughest parts of casting, overhand or sidearm, were pinching the line hard enough and letting go at the right time. However, with Dave’s cheerful coaching, she landed the plug where she intended more than she miscast. Even when she snarled the line, he helped her without criticism to untangle and rewind while he shared funny stories of past fishing mishaps.

  Despite her frustrations, sharing this peaceful time together and seeing Dave at ease lightened her heart. After his opening up yesterday, she better understood his need for quiet and escape that seemed so at odds with his restless energy. She’d felt the strain snapping in him as he spoke of his family, and she ached for him and his losses. She had an uneasy sense he’d glossed over deeper troubles.

  Casual touches and brushes of his hands kept her simmering in desire. Yesterday had been amazing, a defining learning moment for her that she would always treasure. She wanted that again: sex being what she’d always imagined. He’d cared about her comfort, her pleasure.

  Yet, doubts slithered. Weeping all over him…so not sexy. Maybe yesterday was just a fluke. Maybe she was misinterpreting—

  Stop. Just enjoy the day.

  She frowned, reviewing how perhaps their morning interactions might seem to Dave. She’d passively enjoyed his every touch, but not once asked for more. How would he know what she wanted?

  Why couldn’t she let Dave know?

  Curious, she deliberately bumbled her next cast. As before, Dave stepped right in, steadying her hand on the rod and repositioning her arm. However, this time, as he grazed his hands over her, she twisted around and pressed her body to his, halting against one very hard erection.

  Make that a yes on his interest. With a sizzling blush, but very amused and excited at how easily she diverted his attention, she rose up on her toes, and nipped at his jaw, brushing her lips over warm skin and new stubble, drawing herself over the solid length of him. If that wasn’t clear…

  Dave groaned. “Do that again.”

  Catching her free hand onto his hip, she rode up and nibbled more kisses to his jaw and throat as he tilted his head and arched his body into hers.

  “Yes!” He ran his hands over her back, fingers hard and searching over her bare skin. “Damn, sweetheart, what you do to me.”

  On a ragged draw of breath, he plucked the fishing rod from her hand and dropped it aside on the beach chair. “Fishing lesson’s over.”

  Then his mouth crushed down on hers, and he gripped her rear, drawing her closer than close, a greedy, hungry kiss, the kiss she’d been craving all morning. In Dave’s hard grip, she felt desired, not controlled or trapped.

  Sliding her hand down his belly, she slipped beneath his waistband to graze over the hot hard length of him, relishing how he groaned and arched his body. Loving how he let her play and explore.

  She tore her mouth from his. “I want you so much.” She gave him another slow stroke of her hand just to make things perfectly clear. She needed her bare skin sliding against his, him filling her, pressing her into the blanket.

  “You’ve got me.” Stepping backwards, Dave pulled the tie to her top. They reached the sun shelter between more hurried kisses and caresses, where he shucked away his trunks and stripped her bare with a pleasing impatience.

  This time, when Dave caressed her breasts and murmured roughly in her ear, “Perfect, delicious,” she trusted that in his eyes she was the perfect size. In his hands, she felt perfect.

  Oh, he was so good with his hands.

  He carried her down onto the blanket. Still he teased, grinning hard and eyes intent burning amber, making her ride his fingers, taking her to the edge without letting her fall. The sensual scrape of his teeth over her skin stoked the spiraling waves of pleasure.

  “Please, please, please, Dave!” Laughing and sobbing from need, she rocked into his hand, eyes shut, melting, chasing ecstasy. Her breath came in a charged rush. She arched, reaching. Close, so close.

  “More, sweetheart, you can take more. Damn, I love watching you.”

  ****

  Livie was so beautiful when she came, shivering, her breath hitching, and her back arching. Dave nearly lost it himself then just watching her surrender fully to pleasure beneath him, loving her throaty, “Please, please, please.”

  Keeping his hands mostly off her while coaching her through casting had been challenging as hell. However, he’d been determined to let her decide what she wanted today, even if his eyes were about to cross from aching for her and his fingers itched to pull the strings to her sexy wine-red bikini.

  No more waiting now. He covered himself quickly. Then, with the care he should have taken yesterday, he eased into her, filling that sweetest, tightest place, slow and slower. Sinking ever deeper left him deluged in pleasure and the peculiar sense of having come home. His smile broadening, he rose on his arms to watch Livie, intent on savoring every second.

  Eyes hazy with desire and a teasing lift to her soft smile, Livie stroked her hands down his arms and pushed up on her elbows. She brushed her lips to his. “You look comfortable.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  The arch of her body brought her breasts temptingly near his mouth. He closed his mouth on her, tonguing the taut nipple, enjoying her shiver and catch of breath as he withdrew and returned, again and again.

  She flung her head back, rocking and rising with him. Droplets of sweat glistened over her flushed skin, pearling between her breasts.

  Streaks of heat raced through him. Entranced with the feel of her, loving the pleasure glazing her eyes, he glutted his senses on loving Livie, filling his hands with her softness, his mouth with her taste, his ears with her sighs and moans, breathing in the perfume of Livie, of sunscreen, sweat, and her own unique scent.

  “I love how you growl in my ear.” She nipped at his ear, her breathy voice and hands tightening on his hips kicking a sensual clench through his body.

  At her next sharp bite, the last of his strained resolve to go slow snapped. He dragged her close into a devouring kiss, sinking deep into her mouth, tongues matching strokes hot and wet as he drove into her body. Her hands gripped his ass, and she cried out with each stroke, shaking, urging him on, keeping time with him. “Dave!”

  No longer holding anything back, surging hard, then harder still, his body burned. “Come for me.” He slipped his hand between them. “Come for me.”

  “Yes. There, there, yes. Now, please. Please!” She jolted, her fingers bit, and her eyes flew open, glowing deep and dark with passion as her climax rocked them both.

  So beautiful.

  Dave threw his head back, groaning, driving into her welcoming body, again and again, bursting, grabbing onto every second of pleasure, lost in the release, lost in her, scorched and consumed.

  And then they were still, wrapped in the quiet, baking heat.

  He rolled off, both of them sighing at the disconnect, and collapsed onto his back, shattered from pleasure. He shut his eyes against the glaring blue sky as he caught his breath. Drying sweat cooled and prickled over his skin. He wrapped Livie’s hand in his, relishing her contented little squeeze.

  When his head stopped spinning, he dragged over a water bottle and downed a long swallow of warm water, and then passed the bottle to Livie.

  His stomach growled.

  Livie giggled. “I guess
it’s time for lunch.”

  He grinned. “As soon as I can move again.”

  Movement beyond sharing the water bottle took them longer than planned, but after a dip in the water to cool off, they lunched on BLTs, potato chips, and apple slices, with JoAnn’s sun tea to wash everything down.

  Stomach full and body happily worn-out, he sprawled out on the blanket, enjoying the hot, dry breeze sweeping over his skin.

  Livie stretched out on her belly beside him, arms folded to pillow her head.

  “Just lying around on a summer afternoon feels so good, doesn’t it?”

  “Mmm.” She nodded, her drowsy smile full of bliss. She stretched again, reminding him of a cat purring in the sun.

  Dave woke an hour or so later, but he was too comfortable to bother moving in the breezy afternoon heat. A swim would feel good, but lazing around with Livie tucked against him was better.

  Livie stirred from sleep, sighing sweet and slow. “Thank you for a wonderful day.” She pressed drowsy kisses to his chest. “Thank you for showing me how good making love can be. Used to think something was wrong with me. Wasted so much life, believing him—”

  Her breath hitched as she woke fully and realized what she’d said. She stiffened.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He rubbed her tense arm.

  Pain filled her eyes and her brows and mouth drew tight. “It’s no secret our marriage wasn’t good. You saw that.”

  “You should have kicked his ass. He treated you like crap,” he blurted. He locked his jaw and tucked her into his side. Livie wasn’t the sort to ever kick anyone’s ass.

  Her heavy sigh wrenched his heart, but she rested her head against his shoulder and settled her arm over his chest. He slipped his hand around hers and gave a squeeze. He didn’t want to know, but if she needed to talk, he owed it to her to listen and keep his opinions to himself.

  “I know that now, but mistakes are so insidious. Day by day, falling without knowing, until one day you wake up and everything hits, and you have no idea how you reached this horrible, wrong place in your life.”