Love Burns

by Babette James

  Chuckling richly, Dave nudged at her to enter, only to glide away. “Like that?”

  She wriggled, crying in frustration. “Yes! No! Oh, Dave, please.”

  He caressed her bottom, and his laughter rumbled. “I wish you could see what I see. You’ve got the most gorgeous ass. So beautiful. Tell me again what you want.”

  “You. Now.”

  He gripped her hips and filled her, slow and deep, and they both groaned.

  “Yes! This. This.” She shut her eyes, relishing his heat and strength.

  He began to move, a gentle perfect tempo. His fingers tightened. “Aw, sweetheart, you feel so good.”

  She arched, meeting his thrusts, wanting more, and he gave, moving one hand to her breast, the other sliding down to torment her needy bundle of nerves, all while he drove them together in firm, luxurious strokes.

  Trembling filled her, her joy and all the singular pleasures knotting together, drawing her tauter, higher. This time, focus heightened the pleasure, focus on Dave and their bodies’ connection and the sweet hard fullness, the steamy air and the massaging torrent of water, her pounding heart, and her overwhelming happiness. At his growling order, “Come for me,” she surrendered to sensation and to Dave, the pleasure crashed through her, and she came crying his name.

  He wrapped her in his sturdy arms, steadying her. “Kiss me.”

  She twisted in his grip, breathlessly seeking his lips. He seized her mouth in a slow deep kiss, filling her over and over, a lush slide and thrust, tongue and body, drawing out the sweet shivery aftershocks. And to her surprise, she wasn’t done. He moved harder and faster, again and again. She had no idea how long and didn’t care, loving his strength and intensity, lost in feeling as he brought her flying high again, loving his guttural “Aw…aw,” and his shout joining her cry as he came, holding her tight.

  They sagged against the shower wall.

  “That was…” She laughed breathlessly.

  “Mind blowing.”

  “Yes.”

  With the crazed edge of need blunted, they attended to washing up, if imperfectly, which involved slippery play with soap and hands, laughter, and many more kisses until cold water drove them from the shower.

  Kisses as they toweled off led to kisses in the kitchen, the coffeemaker ignored, and steadily through the living room and into her shadowy bedroom. Who needed caffeine when she had Dave’s kisses?

  Dave yanked the bedding open, sending her pillows tumbling. Locked together in a hard, hot kiss they sank onto the bed, but too abruptly, he rolled away and stood.

  Livie propped up on her elbows, puzzled.

  He flashed a sharp smile. “Stay.” He drew open her drapes, flooding the room with morning light. “I need to see you.” Happiness gleamed in his intense eyes as he leisurely swept her with his gaze.

  She flushed, remembering his studying her under the sky and sun at Mohave. He was gorgeous to study in turn, even with his scars, so at ease in his nudity.

  Settling onto the bed beside her, he traced fingers along her leg, circling over her hip and then up to caress her breast and nipple left rosy and sensitive from his mouth. “You are so beautiful.”

  “With you, I feel beautiful.” She stroked his cheek, relishing the rasp of morning scruff, and brushed her thumb over his soft, firm lips.

  He caught her thumb in his teeth, eyes lighting with teasing. “What’re you thinking?”

  “How happy I am.” Time to admit to herself that she loved Dave, whether it was right or not and even whether he loved her or not.

  “Happy, huh?”

  “Very happy. What are you thinking?”

  “How much I want you. How I’ll always want you.” Fierce emotion rang in his rough voice.

  Her heart soared wildly, as if he’d said I love you. Honestly, did the words matter? She’d had the words before, and the vows, only the actions had fallen far short and the vows had been smashed. Did words matter at all if the actions proved true?

  She pressed her hand to his chest, nudging him to lie back against the pillows. “Then let me show you how much I want you, too.”

  Brushing her lips over his, and softly biting, she caressed her hand along his rising shaft. Her heartbeat drummed, pulsing at the crux of her thighs. She curved her hand around him, softly stroking, loving how he gave her this freedom to play, amazed how much she loved wanting to give Dave pleasure.

  A sigh hissed from him, and he rocked into her hand, growing thick and rigid. “That’s good, sweetheart.”

  I like being touched.

  Daring herself to take another step away from the past, she kissed her way down his chest, paying attention to his tight nipples, stroking his hard length, relishing how his breath came faster and her own surge of pleasure at his every lusty groan. She loved the way he skimmed his fingertips over her skin, keeping contact without interrupting her exploration.

  Her trail of kisses over his abdomen brought her to her destination. Her nerves tightened. She’d never tried this on her own before, never wanted to, and Dave had never asked her, but she was determined to banish more ugly memories.

  Nothing ventured…She touched a brushing kiss to the hot crown of him.

  “Aw, Livie, yeah.” His hips flexed, and he caught his hands onto her head.

  At his restraining grip, old anxieties and bad memories surged hard, colliding with the new, equally powerful thrill at causing Dave’s pleasure.

  Stop. Be brave.

  Olivia caught her breath. She could do this. This was Dave. She loved him. She was choosing to pleasure him. With him, she was safe.

  Keeping to her mantra, ignoring his tight grip and her rattling nerves, and trusting Dave, she touched kisses along the sensitive line, lower and lower.

  As if realizing her anxiety, he dropped his hands away, knotting them in the bedding as he arched his hips with a groan of pure pleasure. “Oh yeah, there, Livie, real good.”

  She tried firmer nibbling kisses back up and light tastes with her tongue. This wasn’t so bad at all.

  Be bold.

  His encouraging, lusty noises helped greatly, as did his not grabbing her head or hair. Resolved, she lowered her mouth over him.

  “Oh, sweetheart, that’s good. More. Nice like that. Wrap your hand around me at the same time and it’ll be better. Grip hard like before. Stroke, yeah, there, as you take me in. That’s so good. Perfect.” More tumbled, hearty encouragement, groans, and sighs guided her, letting her focus on finding confidence and a rhythm. His whole body joined in, rocking and rising in abandon without overpowering her.

  At his next moan, a vibrant hot rush and delight at bringing him this pleasure swept through her. Her whole being throbbed with happiness. So, with Dave, this could be good for her too.

  R.J. had said, “I love you,” but had only given disrespect and condescension. Dave hadn’t said the words, but showed love in every look, caress, and breath. Much remained uncertain, but with Dave she’d never felt more free and alive. She would trust the promise in his actions.

  ****

  Dave was in sensual heaven, heat filling his veins, every muscle tensing, his release gathering under the hot sucking glide of her mouth, the delicate lapping strokes of her tongue. However, despite the intense pleasure of her mouth, he didn’t want to come like this, not this time. He needed Livie face to face, to kiss her as he buried himself deep within her warmth, and to look in her loving eyes as she came apart.

  “Babe, no more,” he gasped. He wrapped his hand around hers and gently pulled away. “I’m too close. Got to stop. Thank you. Awesome, just awesome. But I need to be in you. I need you.”

  He sucked in heavy breaths, reining himself in until he’d reached some fragile control and his hands were steady enough to cover himself.

  First dropping a kiss to her mouth, he stretched over her. Their eyes locked. “I’m going to make this right for you.” The realization that he meant more than sex this time resonated through his being.

 
As she opened and welcomed him in their slow joining, he took her mouth for another fervent kiss. The last hollows of his heart filled to overflowing.

  After her sweet mouth had pushed him to the edge, he assumed he’d finish fast, but no, loving Livie only got better. They looked into each other’s eyes, drawing out the loving play until they were shaking from the powerful pleasure. Her eyes glazed, her sighs caught sharply, a low surprised sob leaving her as her body jolted slightly. How he loved holding her tight, loved being deep within her as her orgasm rippled through her body and nearly drove him over to his own.

  “Aw, sweetheart, that’s so damn nice.”

  She caught her breath and smiled, lush lips swollen from their kisses, her eyes alight. “Your turn.” She moved against him, taking him deeper, so beautiful to watch. Eye to eye, body to body and, yes, in this moment, even soul to soul didn’t seem too farfetched as measured blazed into urgent. He drove hard, relishing her soft strength, possessing her completely—or did she possess him?

  Yes. This was more than just bodies in perfect rhythm, more than the age-old dance in bed.

  “Come with me, Livie.” He slipped one hand between her thighs, stroking above where he entered her.

  She gasped and trembled, fingers biting into his back, shaking her head. “Can’t, not again.” But her body was already obeying his hoarse urging and stroking fingertips and ignoring her doubt. That tense glow flamed into life in her face at his next thrust, her breath going rough with sweet little gasps and moans, and she reached along with him.

  “More! Come on, honey.”

  Her lovely brown eyes flew wide, never losing the lock of their gazes. Her climax gripped her, and she gripped him, convulsing around him with the sweetest cry.

  “Yes, Livie!” he groaned, and he was undone, pulling her hard to him, shutting his eyes, lost in the consuming pleasure, lost in her.

  They collapsed together against the pillows with groans and laughter and scattered kisses.

  And then they were quiet and still. She snuggled against him with a sweet little mutter. He stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her mouth. Warm sweaty skin against skin, her softness, the peace filling his mind and body…He never wanted to let go.

  Only, along with the contentment, a wild counterpoint raced in his mind. Did he love her? What if he loved her and she loved him? What if he settled here, with her, forever? Made a family together?

  His chest tightened, and he waited for the panic that once followed those ideas of love and permanence.

  No panic. No rejection. Just ready, wired anticipation, like standing at the jumpdoor.

  Yeah, this was serious.

  “You want some coffee?” Dave parted from her with a sigh, caught in that odd readiness, the whole rightness of the morning and the unfolding future he no longer wanted to escape.

  Livie stretched contentedly on the disarrayed bed. “My hero. I’d love some. It’s ready, just push the button. You can use the flowered cups in the china cabinet. Top shelf.”

  “One coffee coming up.” He caressed her rear and, with a pat, slipped from the bed.

  After starting the coffee maker and cleaning up, he faced the china cabinet and the fragile cups she’d requested. Couldn’t he have a simple mug?

  Get over it. They make her happy. Show some couth, why don’t you? You’re not a gawky kid crashing around the house anymore.

  The coffeemaker gurgled and hissed. Done.

  He extracted two cups and saucers. The translucent porcelain felt as frail as eggshell in hands far more comfortable wielding a chainsaw.

  Limping with full cups made things interesting, but he survived with only a couple small sloshes into the saucers.

  Livie had curled into his spot. He drank in the sight of her, coffee forgotten.

  Go for it. Remember that lecture you teased Nate with? Those three little words you gave him such a hard time over? Three short words and you could make all this right for Livie. Time to stop running away from your feelings.

  He drew in a tense breath. “Your coffee’s ready.”

  Livie smiled and sat up, the sheet demurely tucked over her breasts, and took her cup. She was perfect, the delicate cup just right in her hands.

  She followed his gaze to the cup and traced her fingertip along the thin gold rim. “I love using these. My grandmother brought them from Italy. I’d spend weekends with her and we would sit and have biscotti and hot cocoa. She would tell stories from when she was a girl, having coffee with her Nonna.”

  He joined her in bed, tucking her close, and took a welcome hit of sweet black coffee. Relaxation settled in. Too caught up in Livie as they’d tumbled into bed earlier, he hadn’t paid much notice to her bedroom. Cheerful morning light revealed the room was much like Livie, neat, elegant, and delicately feminine without being fussy. A room he wouldn’t mind waking in again and again.

  Livie set aside her empty cup. “I’m in the mood for French toast this morning. Sound good to you?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Excellent.” She kissed him and bounced out of bed to slip into the nightie she took from the hook on the door.

  After retrieving his pants, he refilled their coffees. Livie set to gathering equipment and ingredients, her short nightie riding up as she worked, flashing glimpses of her bare bottom.

  Dave drank his coffee and enjoyed the view. Today, life was good.

  Of course, with Livie, French toast meant from scratch. Soon, tempting scents of vanilla, nutmeg, and frying sausage filled the kitchen and his stomach rumbled impatiently.

  Livie laughed. “Do you like raspberries?”

  “Yeah, they’re good.”

  She spooned raspberry preserves into a small saucepan, and stirred in dribbles of orange juice until she reached a consistency she wanted. Even busy, Livie was a restful presence, nearly the same comfortable peace as he found when fishing.

  “Here we are!” She set a rustic stoneware plate in front of him holding three sausage links and two thick, perfectly browned French toast slices drizzled with raspberry sauce. She set her own plate, took her seat, folded her hands and said a quick grace.

  He tagged on an awkward “Amen” to hers, glad he’d used his manners and waited for her to sit.

  “Enjoy!”

  “Thanks. Never had jam on French toast before.” He took his first bite. Crisp, custardy, and delicious. “It’s great. Come on, eat.”

  They ate in contented quiet. Second servings cooked and eaten, Livie sat back with the last of her coffee.

  His own coffee finished, Dave stacked his dishes and headed for the sink. One step from the counter, his leg seized in pain and folded. He crashed against the cabinets, watching in horror as the stoneware plate, Livie’s prized coffee cup, and the saucer struck the tile floor and shattered.

  Ah, shit!

  “Hey, you okay?” Livie gripped his shoulders and steadied him.

  “Cramp.” He gasped through gritted teeth, eyes watering. Damn, this was a charley horse on crack. He caught a breath and straightened. “Watch your feet.”

  “You watch your feet. Hang on. I’ll get you a chair.” A moment later the chair nudged the back of his legs. “Here you go.”

  Grateful and humiliated, he dropped onto the seat and gripped the whacked-out thigh muscle. “Sorry I killed your cup.”

  She pulled a bag of spinach from the freezer. “Here. It was an accident. Don’t worry about the cup. Are you okay? What do you need?”

  He pressed the icy package against the cramping muscle. “It’ll pass.” Stoneware and porcelain shards littered the floor. Shit. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She grabbed the dustpan and brush.

  “No, it’s not. Watch your feet.”

  Livie whirled, snapping the dustpan down on the counter, and planted her hands on her hips. “Would you listen to me? It’s. Okay. No. Big. Deal. Got it? It’s just a cup. Did you break it on purpose? No. Were you careless? No. It was an accident. Accident
s happen. So chill, and stop apologizing. Stop apologizing for everything!”

  She snatched up the larger plate chunks and dropped them in the wastebasket. With tense precise brush swipes, she swept up the shards.

  The heavy plate had even chipped the floor tile. Shit.

  She caught the last fragments with a damp paper towel. “There. Done.” She cocked a brow, channeling Jake’s no bullshit glare. “How’s the leg?”

  The cramp had eased, leaving him with a sore leg and remorse. “Better.” He stood, trying to stretch out the strain.

  Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  “No problem. I’m s—”

  Her exasperated brown stare stopped him. He handed over the spinach without a word and escaped into the living room. This was why leaving in the night was easier.

  Livie finished clearing breakfast in prickly quiet and then joined him on the sofa, curling up on the opposite end. She clicked on the television to the classic movie channel, but stared without seeing at the black and white images flickering across the screen.

  He needed to say something. “I wish I could make you promises. Tell you I know what I’m doing here.”

  “I don’t need promises.”

  The sadness in her voice wrenched his heart. No, Livie was the kind of woman who needed promises and needed them kept. Deserved to have them kept.

  Sighing, he tugged her into his arms. “I’ve always been a day-to-day guy. Work hard, play hard. Never learned how to go slow. Truth is, I avoided relationships because I’d never be around. That way no one got hurt again. I loved the firefighting too much. I figured I’d either slow down eventually or die doing the job.”

  She stroked his hand. “Who hurt you?”

  Dave winced. She’d caught the again he’d let slip. “There was a girl…way back when I was young and dumb enough to think I could have a full-speed-ahead life and a full-time relationship. Tess was the lead singer in a band. They were real good. I’d play with them sometimes, off-season. We thought the music would keep us together. It didn’t. I was never around, she was always getting gigs and those late nights and road trips…She wanted me to quit the firefighting. The job terrified her, and she was always on my case to focus on the guitar. Damn it, I love the job, and I’m damn good at it and I make a difference—made, was, loved. Hell, all past tense now—I can’t do the job anymore. Too permanently messed up to even fight fire from the ground.”