Fan the Flames (28 page)

“Huh.” It was her turn to pause. “Is that a normal thing, or just a strange quirk of yours?”

His laugh sounded a little choked. “I don't know. I could do a survey of the guys at the station if you want, though.”

“No!” she blurted, then flushed when he laughed again. “Don't you dare mention this to them.”

“I wouldn't.” Taking several quick steps forward, he closed the gap between them before she realized what he was doing. He kissed her lightly on the nose. “I was just teasing. Go change.”

“Okay.” She turned but hesitated. “I'll take one of your shirts.”

“Yeah?” At the pleased hum in his voice, her blush deepened, but it also made her happy.

“Yeah. Now that we're…dating, I think it's my responsibility to humor your fetishes, as long as they don't get too weird.”

“Fetishes?” Picking up his abandoned shirt, he held a corner and snapped it across her seat. Even though it didn't hurt, she yelped and hopped away from the fabric whip, quickly darting toward the stairs as he chased her.

When she was safely inside the bathroom with the closed door between her and her pursuer, she realized she was actually giggling. Rory didn't remember ever
giggling
before in her life. It was actually kind of fun to act like a silly, giggly girl. Hugging herself, she leaned against the door and smiled. With everything that had been happening with Billy and Rave and Julius, she hadn't really had a moment just to enjoy what was developing between her and Ian. Worries started to crowd her brain at the thought, but she shook them off. She could stress about everything tomorrow. For now, for once, she was going to be happy.

“How are you still tired?” Ian asked, a baffled expression on his face as he watched her yawn for the fifth time in two minutes. “You slept for ten hours.”

“It was eight, and I have lots of missed sleep to make up,” she explained, interrupting her own words with yet another yawn. “You don't have to stay with me, you know.”

“I know.” Despite his words, Ian still matched her steps as they trudged through the snow away from the chicken coop. Jack danced in excited circles around them. “I want to. Besides, I need to get back on a non-vampire schedule. Next shift, I'm on days.”

“That must be hard.” She stopped abruptly for a moment to avoid tripping over Jack. He galloped away, and she started walking again. “Switching back and forth like that.”

Ian shrugged. “We have four days to adjust. I'd rather do that than work only days or only nights.”

“Aren't you tired at all?” She eyed his face in the weak light. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, leaving only a gray dimness.

“I could sleep a little more,” he admitted.

Rory interpreted that as manly man speak for “I'm still exhausted but won't admit it.”

As they climbed the back steps, he asked, “Are you opening the shop tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She dug out her keys from her pocket and unlocked the dead bolts. As soon as Ian caught the edge of the door, Rory moved to disarm the alarm. “I'm tempted to keep it closed one more day so I can clean”—they both glanced around the still-bloodied back room—“but I've been shut down too many days already.”

“I can help you clean tomorrow,” he offered.

“Just what you want to do on your day off,” she mocked, heading straight for the bookshelf hiding the steel door. “Scrubbing brain matter off the walls.”

“What I want to do”—he'd done that thing again, where he snuck up behind her and spoke quietly into her ear—“is to stay with you. I don't care what I have to do to get that. I'm fine with dealing with biohazards if I can do it with you close by.”

Flushing, she ducked her chin and concentrated on punching in the correct code. It was harder than it should've been. Rory wondered if this mixture of giddiness and shyness was normal. “Lock the back door, would you?”

“Already done.” His breath tickled the edge of her ear, and she hunched a shoulder as goose bumps prickled her skin.

To her relief—and disappointment—the last of the locks gave way, and she escaped through the steel door. It was only a brief respite from her tumultuous feelings, since Ian followed her.

“I'll get the lock,” he said, turning back to the door.

She didn't argue. Instead, she scampered down the stairs, needing a second alone to compose herself. In the kitchen, she leaned her forehead against the wall and took a deep breath. She didn't recognize this fluttery, needy twit she'd become, and she wasn't sure what to think. Practical, straightforward Rory was someone with whom she was comfortable. Swoony, googly-eyed Rory, not so much.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Pushing away from the wall, she headed for the fridge. “I'm going to feed Jack. Did you need anything?” After the huge meal they'd just had at his place, she would be surprised if he was hungry again.

“I'm good.”

When he yawned loudly, she gave him a narrowed-eyed look. “Don't start.” Rory bit back her own, answering yawn. “It's catching.”

He grinned. “Sorry.” As she put Jack's food in a bowl and set it on the floor, Ian remained quiet. There was a weight to the silence, though, that made her look at him curiously.

“What?” she finally asked.

“Can I sleep in the pink bed? We can even set up the bunny wall again.”

Rory forced a scowl, even though she really wasn't annoyed. Having him in her bed had felt cozy and comforting. She'd expected sharing a bed would've been weird and sleep-disrupting, but it was nice—
really
nice—having Ian with her while she slept. “I suppose it's the least I can do if you're going to be scrubbing disgusting things off my walls tomorrow.”

“Darn straight.” A small smile played around his mouth as he leaned his shoulders against the wall. “So what do you do in the evenings, since you don't have a TV?”

She shrugged. She felt a little awkward standing in front of the fridge, so she imitated his stance and leaned back against it. “Depends on what needs doing. I'll clean and oil my own guns, or do bookkeeping stuff for the shop. Sometimes I'll just mess around on the internet, clean the house, cook, read, sew…whatever.”

When he pushed off the wall and stalked toward her, she froze. If he were ever to attack her, she'd be a goner for sure, since he seemed to erase all her flight-or-fight instincts. He stood in front of her, too close as usual, and caught her arm gently at the elbow. His hand traced the length of her forearm, across her wrist, and finally tangled his fingers with her own.

Stepping back, he tugged her with him. Rory followed, as if she were the rat to his Pied Piper. His eyes stayed focused on hers as he drew her into the living room toward the couch. “You still tired?” he asked.

“Uh…no.” With her heart pounding as it was, sleepiness was the last thing she felt.

As if he could read her thoughts, he smiled, a wicked and slightly smug tilt of his mouth. “Good.”

Ian sat, pulling her down beside him. Her heart started pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Now that she'd experienced what it was like to make out with Ian, she wanted him, wanted that closeness.

Instead of kissing her, though, Ian just sat back against the couch, stroking his thumb over her hand. “This is nice, just having a minute to breathe. Lately, I feel like we're either in the middle of a crisis or exhausted from the aftermath.”

At the word “breathe,” Rory did, exhaling the air she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her shoulders settled against the back of the couch as she relaxed. “It is,” she said. “Nice, I mean.”

“Want to go to Levi's after the shop closes tomorrow night?” He stretched out his socked feet and got comfortable. With a gentle tug, he pulled her against his side. She slowly relaxed against him. Releasing her hand, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and closed his eyes.

Once her heartbeat settled a little, she recalled the question he'd just asked. “Um, I don't know. Everyone will be staring and crawling into our booth and asking questions. I mean, even before everything happened, we still had half the restaurant at our table.”

“True,” he agreed without opening his eyes. “Might be good to get it over with, though. Just deal with everyone at once while we eat some good barbecue.”

She made a noncommittal sound. Eating in the midst of those rapacious eyes and needling questions sounded a little hellish to her. Ian was right, though—sooner or later, whether it was at the post office or grocery store or coffee shop, the citizens of Simpson would corner her. At least at Levi's, she'd have Ian at her back. “Let's see how we feel tomorrow evening.”

From the way his grunt sounded, he was more than halfway to sleeping. Soon, his breathing changed, grew deeper and slightly louder, and his arm weighted more heavily on her shoulders. Rory melted against his side, turning slightly to get more comfortable. He was angled into the corner of the couch, and she curled against him, resting her hand in the middle of his chest and her cheek in the hollow beneath his shoulder.

His heart beat under her palm, slow and strong. His chest rose with each breath, lifting her hand and head with it. She smiled. Although she'd never been to either coast, she imagined that was how it felt to be brought up and lowered by ocean waves. Soothed by the motion, Rory didn't even have to mentally fieldstrip any guns in order to fall asleep.

* * *

Rave and Billy stood by her bed, looking down at her paralyzed form.

“Poison or bullet?” Billy asked in a conversational tone.

“Shoot her.” Rave had cloudy, dead-man's eyes. “I want to watch the bitch bleed.”

Rory woke and jumped to her feet in the same jolt.

“What's wrong?” Ian was standing next to her almost instantly, his voice sounding wide-awake.

“Nothing.” She was sweating and breathing hard. There was no way to control the perspiration, but she made an effort to slow her inhalations, counting to four before she allowed the air to escape. “Just a bad dream. Sorry.”

“Sh—oot.” He blew out a hard breath and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She must have startled him, because she could feel his heart pounding at twice its normal pace. “No need to be sorry. You couldn't help having a nightmare. After everything, it'd be strange if you were dreaming about ponies and ice cream.”

Pulling away from him enough that she could see his face, she raised her eyebrows. “Ponies and ice cream? Is that what your happy dreams are about?”

He grinned, his eyes lighting with that wicked spark. “Nah. My best dreams are more along the lines of—”

“Okay!” she interrupted, having a feeling his words would result in some serious blushing if she allowed him to finish. “What time is it?”

“Without windows, it could be noon, for all we know.” He glanced at his watch. “Or it could be one in the morning.”

Tipping her head to the side to stretch her neck, she winced when vertebrae popped. “Probably good that I woke us before we spent the whole night on the couch. We'd have been stiff and sore tomorrow.”

His hands slid up her back and landed on her shoulders, where he began to knead the tight muscles.

“Oh!” She was startled at first, but then she relaxed into the massage. “Oh, that feels really good.”

“You sound surprised,” he said, his voice husky. “Haven't you ever had a shoulder rub before?”

Rory closed her eyes and leaned back into his touch. He hit a knot at the base of her neck, which made her jump and then moan in pleasure as it loosened. “No. It hurts a little, but it feels incredible at the same time. No wonder people pay for this.”

“Sometime when it's not the middle of the night, I'll have you lie down on the bed so I can do it right.” The heat in his voice sent a shock of desire through her, so strong it startled her, and she pulled away. His hands slipped off her shoulders, and she swallowed a regretful whimper at the loss.

“Right,” she said, jittery with want and not knowing how to act. All her feelings were so new and huge and overwhelming, and she knew she was screwing up everything. “It's night. So…bed?”

“Bed.” His hands returned to her shoulders, this time to turn her toward the bedroom. She resisted begging him to resume the shoulder rub.

Ian headed for the bathroom, so she quickly changed into pajamas. As she automatically headed toward “her” side of the bed, he returned, stripped down to his underwear. Rory averted her eyes so she wouldn't stare. She was struck by how easy it was to fall into the pattern of sleeping with Ian. It had just been a short time ago that the idea of even bringing him into her underground bunker had scared the bejesus out of her, and now it felt like he fit. Crawling under the covers, she glanced over to where he was stacking pillows between them.

“Don't worry about it,” she said, rolling onto her side.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He sounded pleased as he tossed the few pillows aside. “I won't try anything.”

Her face flamed, and her throat locked, keeping her from responding. To her relief, he didn't seem to expect an answer. When he reached to turn off the light, his muscles were clearly delineated under his skin, and she watched them stretch and flex with his movement. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to turn over onto her other side so her back faced the mesmerizing show.

Darkness settled over the room, and the bed moved as he settled. “Good night.”

“'Night.”

After several minutes of silence, Rory's eyes were beginning to close again. As she drifted into a half sleep, she vaguely felt him shift before a wall of heat pressed against her back. It felt wonderful. She wiggled a little closer to that source of warmth and heard his breath catch. His hand touched her waist almost tentatively, and she went still, suddenly wide-awake. When he started to withdraw, she grabbed his hand and held it in place.

“Ror, are you sure?”

“Positive.” Her voice shook just a little.

“I can wait.” Despite the words, his fingers curled around her hip. “We don't have to do this tonight.”

“I don't want to wait anymore.” Her heart crashed against her ribs in a flurry of nervous excitement. The feel of him pressed against her back and his hand smoothing over the curve of her hip made her feel a strange combination of safe and cared for and so aroused she didn't think she could wait another second.

Twisting her head, she kissed him before her nerve could fail her and self-consciousness return. It was rough and clumsy for only a split second before they both found their footing and the kiss smoothed into a thing of beauty. There was a difference to this kiss, though. It was more intense, as if they both knew the decision had been made. She turned onto her back, and he moved above her, never breaking their contact.

He kept it at kissing, though, catching her hands when they attempted to stray. The anticipation was killing her, shredding her patience and her confidence. In a state of frazzled nerves, she bit down on his bottom lip. He jerked and then moaned, pressing her back against the bedding, his kiss turning frenzied.

A wave of need rushed over her, drowning out any rational thoughts. He knelt, his knees braced on either side of her waist, and lifted the hem of her pajama shirt. Without hesitating, she raised her upper body and then her arms, allowing Ian to pull off her top. When the cool air hit her bare breasts, she paused, testing her own response. Although she should've been freaked, she realized she was mostly feeling relieved. She had wanted Ian for so long; no amount of inexperience could make her retreat now. This was happening, and Rory was glad.