Flaming Desire - Part 4 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (4 page)

I began to grow angry. “I can’t help my feelings, Matt. It’s not like I’m asking you to reciprocate—”

“I do have feelings for you, Jesse,” he admitted. “But I’m not ready to—”

“I think if you talk about it, we could somehow work our way through it,” I said. He glanced up at me, frowning.

“Talk about what?”

“About your wife and son,” I said. My mouth had grown dry. I’m sure he saw the pulse throbbing in my neck. Even in the waning light of day, I saw the blood drain from his face. “Matt, I know you’ve suffered a terrible loss, but I think if we—”

“Who told you about that?” he demanded. He moved away from the tree, his legs slightly apart, his hands clenched into fists.

I was surprised by his reaction and hesitant to divulge the source of my information. I began to shake my head.

“Sam told you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

I nodded.

He shook his head, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the tree. “Dammit!” Moments later, he opened his eyes and stared off into the distance. “I don’t want to talk about it, Jesse—”

I stood and tried to approach him. He held out a hand, stopping me.

“I mean it, Jesse. I do not want to talk about it.”

“But Matt, I think if we talk about it, about your feelings… we might be able to work our way past it —”

“I don’t want to work my way past it!” he nearly shouted. “Work my way past it? I lost
my wife and child
, Jesse, do you understand that?”

I stared at him in stunned dismay. “Of course I do! I know how you feel—”

“Do you?” he demanded. “Really, Jesse? How can you know how I feel?”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “I lost people I cared about too—”

“Have you ever clutched desperately to the small hand of your dying son?” He ground out, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Have you ever had to listen to tiny lungs struggling for breath, the same breath you used to feel on your neck when you rocked him to sleep?”

My eyes burned with tears at the image his words invoked inside me. Oh my God, his pain was so deep. “Matt—”

“Jesse, I know you lost your parents and your little sister to a fire. I know you’ve experienced the pain of loss. But I’m not ready to talk about
my
pain, not about my little boy and my… my wife… I’m not ready to talk about any of it, do you understand that?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Jesse, I care for you, but—”

I didn’t want to hear anymore. I especially didn’t want to hear any
buts
when it came to whatever it was that Matt and I had between us. I wasn’t expecting any declarations of undying love, but something… “Matt, I’m sorry I said those words, I really am—”

“Don’t be sorry for expressing your feelings. You took me by surprise, no doubt about it, but I just don’t think… I just don’t think it would work—”

I stepped toward him. He didn’t move. That was something, at least. He wasn’t turning away and walking away from me. “Matt, I’m not expecting anything from you. You’re the one that said no strings, and I’m abiding by that… for now. I just… I just want you to know that in spite of what I said, I don’t expect you—”

With no warning, his arms were around me, his lips pressed against mine. Like a glowing ember fanned into a flame, emotion, feeling, and desire erupted within me. I wanted to resist, really I did, but there was something about Matt that was impossible to resist. He was a wounded soul, much like me. Despite his protestations, I knew that he needed to have something to hold onto, to hope for, and to live for. Whether it was saving lives in the emergency room or fighting a wildfire, we all needed a purpose in life.

I understood now that Matt used his nursing and his firefighting as a barrier of sorts—a barrier that prevented him from focusing on deeper issues. After all, he was the one who wanted everything superficial.

No emotion—no pain.

No connections—no pain.

He had to realize that he couldn’t possibly go through life without making emotional connections with others, didn’t he? Or would he continually pull away emotionally, like Sam had warned?

I didn’t know, and I didn’t know how I could help him. All I knew was that with his kiss, I felt desire, and it wasn’t just physical for me anymore. It was mental and emotional. Sharing my passion with Matt was also, at least to me, sharing a part of my soul. At this moment, I didn’t expect, or want, anything from Matt other than what he was doing to me right now.

His arms held me close against the hard length of his body. My groin was pressed against his, and I felt his cock hardening against my belly. I knew he felt desire for me, his erection proved it, but was that all he felt for me? Sexual desire?

Again, I told myself that it didn’t matter, that I would take anything that Matt had to offer. It wasn’t that I was desperate, but I did want him, and for now, I guess I would have to be satisfied with what he gave me, what he offered of himself. Right now, that was his body, and right now, that was enough.

In a matter of moments, our tongues slid into each other’s mouths. I’m sure that he smelled the smoke, ash, and dirt on me as much as I smelled it on him. To me, it was invigorating, life affirming, earthy… and primeval. I wanted to feel him deep inside me, assuaging my desire, and my own seeking for something… perhaps not love, but affirmation that I meant
something
to him. Something.

My breath accelerated, my pulse throbbed in my neck, and my nipples tingled and puckered with desire. It didn’t take much for Matt to elicit such desire in me. A simple kiss. My insides were on fire. I yanked his T-shirt up, spread my fingers wide over his chest, once again marveling at the perfect structure of his musculature. I ran my fingers down his abdomen, feeling the muscles, the attachments to his rib cage, and his six-pack. His abdomen clenched slightly under my touch, and then my fingers were working on his button and zipper.

Unabashed, I reached my hand into his pants. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and neither was I. I wrapped my fingers around his cock, so velvety, warm and smooth on the surface, so miraculously hard underneath. Before I had even extracted him from his pants, I was stroking my hand up and down the length of him. My breath came in sharp gasps as his own hands reached under my shirt and cupped my breasts, as if weighing them, caressing them, his thumbs sweeping slowly and deliciously around my nipples.

“Matt,” I sighed, my breath merging with his. His lips stroked mine, his tongue delving in and out, swirling, and then once again his lips were pressed against mine as if he couldn’t get close enough. He lifted my shirt up over my head, and then he unhooked my bra and pulled it from my arms. I stood half-naked in front of him.

He lifted his head and stared down at my breasts. Just the look in his eyes made my nipples harden even more. I thrust my chest forward automatically, inviting his touch. His head dipped lower and his arms wrapped around me, lifting the upward as his mouth captured one of my nipples and began to suck. Hard, desperately. Almost to the point of pain. Then, he eased back a little, his tongue leaving my nipple, then flicking, then circling, and once again suckling. It felt like bolts of electricity were shooting from my nipples down my belly and into my pussy.

Of its own volition, my internal muscles began to contract and I soon found myself growing wet. Still holding me pressed close to him with one hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped my pants and shoved them down past my hips. He reached his hand in between my legs and cupped my pussy. He stroked gently, my wetness soon moistening his hand. His fingers played with my lips, and then his middle finger found the center of my being and dipped inside. My muscles instantly clutched at his finger while I moaned low in my throat. I thrust my hips closer to his groin, my hand tightening on his penis.

I didn’t know what I wanted, but I just wanted him to be closer. I pulled his head closer to my breasts and he obliged. His finger moved slowly inside me while his thumb caressed my clitoris. I began to gasp, nearly crying with the sensations he elicited within me. My hips rocked. My hand tightened around his cock, which continued to harden underneath my insistent stroking. I wanted to take him into my mouth, but I couldn’t move. I was bent slightly backward, only Matt’s strong arm holding me upright as his lips pillaged my nipples and his finger dipped into my slit, in and out, so wet, making me so hot for him that I nearly screamed.

His tongue pulled, sucked, and then he nibbled gently on my nipples. His finger continued to surge in and out. My hand pumped his cock faster, harder, and then I felt myself lose control. Every muscle in my body seemed to contract and pulse with my orgasm. Everything flashed white in my head as I heard the blood roaring in my ears, flooding my pussy with sensation. It was incredible, raw, and powerful.

My knees began to wobble, but I barely had time to catch my breath before he clutched me with both hands, spun me around, and then braced my hands against the tree in which he had been leaning moments earlier. He grasped my hips, spread my legs apart, and then plunged into me from behind. I had never had sex this way. I gasped as he entered me, my insides wet, slick, and ready for him.

I adjusted my position slightly to enable me to take him deeper inside. His hands tightened on my hips as he pumped into me, harder, as if trying to delve ever deeper. I heard him grunting with exertion. I didn’t know quite how to move because the position was new to me, so I just relaxed and tried to clench my internal muscles around him every time he withdrew.

He groaned. My hands clutched at the bark of the pine tree, rough against my palms, but I didn’t care. My breasts jiggled as he pounded into me. I heard his balls slapping against my skin, and then, with a deep growl, he suddenly pulled out. I felt hot semen squirt rhythmically onto my lower back, dripping down my ass.

I remained frozen for several seconds until he pressed up against me, and then I felt him wiping at the hot semen. I was panting for breath. Finally, stiffly, I stood upright. From behind, he pulled my pants up. I turned around just as he was plucking my bra and T-shirt from the dirt. He shook them out and handed them to me. While I put my bra back on, he watched my every move, his eyes still riveted to my breasts as he tucked himself into his pants, zipped and buttoned them. Then, he yanked his T-shirt back on, tucking it into his pants, hiding the wet spot he’d use to wipe off the semen. I pulled my T-shirt over my head, letting it hang down untucked.

I stared up at him for several moments, saw the pulse still throbbing in his neck. There was no denying the intense sexual desire and passion that we shared. It seemed as if nothing could curb that passion. One touch of his lips and I turned into butter. I didn’t say anything this time, just continued to stare up at him while he stared back. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but his expression gave me no clue. Finally, he gestured with his chin back toward camp.

He turned to leave.

“Matt—”

“It’ll never work, Jesse.”

With that, he left me standing there, my body still hot from his touch. As he walked away, I knew that I had to help him find a way to overcome, or at least deal with his tragic loss. I sighed, not knowing whether I would be the one to help heal his soul.

I decided that the last thing Matt needed was for me to start pushing, and honestly, I didn’t really have any right to. I would have to bide my time and try to be patient, but Lord, that was going to be difficult.

I realized that a lot of us had baggage, and that some of that baggage was devastating. It was all relative anyway, wasn’t it? Not one of us ever entered into a relationship with a clean slate. I realized that. I also realized that perhaps, just perhaps, Matt might not ever reciprocate my feelings for him.

I had to deal with that. I also knew that I had to leave things be, for a while anyway. Or at least as long as we were on the fire line. These sexual interludes with Matt were wonderful. I couldn’t deny it. But I had to resolve that unless I had some indication of what he was thinking in regard to “us” I didn’t want to be just a booty call. I knew he felt sexually attracted to me, and I doubted that he would have sex with somebody he didn’t like, but what did I know? My past experience with men was nothing staggering.

At any rate, I realized that I was making myself crazy and I couldn’t afford to do that. I had never felt about a guy the way I did with Matt and it scared me. I wasn’t sure where to go with it, how to tamp those feelings down, put them in a little box and pack them away in the recesses of my mind. Dammit. As I followed Matt out of the woods, back toward the new base camp, milling with movement and hundreds of people, I resolved that I would step carefully on this new path I was on.

I had to protect my heart. I had to acknowledge the reality of the possibility that Matt wanted our “relationship” to go no further than it already had.

“Matt, Jesse, there you are!”

I looked up and saw Lucas, Matt’s team captain, gesturing toward us. He carried a list in his hand and a map underneath it, folded into a neat twelve by twelve square. Matt glanced over his shoulder and saw me walking a short distance behind him. He gestured for me to hurry up. I did.

As I approached Matt and the team captain, I pulled off my hardhat to wipe my brow. I realized that I felt a pretty strong breeze tugging at the tendrils of hair that had worked loose from my braid. Not a good sign.

“If the wind picks up anymore, the choppers won’t be able to fly,” Lucas said. “We’ve got to try and get ahead of this thing. It’s running over the top of the ridge to the northwest,” he said, pointing. “There’s a narrow valley down there. There’s a campground below it, with numerous campsites. I’ve been told they’ve been cleared, but I want you two to go around that ridge, give me an update, and radio back. Double-check all the campsites. I don’t want to find any bodies when this is over.”

He handed Matt a brochure that he had tucked beneath the map. Matt glanced at it and handed it to me.
Aspen Valley Campground and Resort
, the title of the brochure said. I quickly opened it up and saw a drawing of a narrow valley dotted with at least a dozen campsites and a couple of areas where larger groups and buildings were clustered. The last campground appeared to be tucked into a box canyon, near but not at the bottom of the mountain valley. I glanced up at Lucas.

“We had a build-down a little while ago,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re losing ground on this one, so let’s all take it up a notch, shall we? The fire is bumping the line, so keep an eye out for flaming branches and embers, especially as you head down slope into the valley. It’s narrow. Watch your backs down there.”

A build-down was a cluster of thunderclouds that look like they might release some rain, but then suddenly evaporated. Bumping the line was a term that wildfire fighters used to describe a fire that literally bumped up against containment lines. When a fire did that, an ember or a ‘blowing and glowing’ piece of twig or branch could easily either blow or roll over the containment line, quickly spreading the fire.

“You said that the buildings and the campsites have been cleared?” Matt asked.

Lucas nodded. “That’s what I’ve been told, but I want to make sure. I’m sending the rest of the team along the northwest ridge. You’ll go with them to the top of the notch, then head down into the valley.”

Again, he gestured toward his map and pointed out the location. Matt looked at it and I gently nudged him so I could also see the location.

“At the notch, head south along the trail, which will take you into the narrow valley. Then I want you to make your way down, checking each of these campsites as you go. They’re pretty much along the same line. At the end, maybe four to five miles down, you’ll be close to the base of the mountain. You might have some trouble with transmissions, but give me frequent updates if you can. When you’re finished, you can take the trail marked “Old Rugged” which will bring you up and back to the rear end of our crew at their location on the slope, or close to it.”

Matt nodded and glanced down at me. I nodded as well. The captain gave Matt the map, and I held onto the brochure. Matt tucked the map into one of his side leg pockets and I did the same with the brochure. I glanced up at Lucas. “Equipment?”

“Handheld tools are in that small tent over there,” Lucas said, gesturing over his shoulder.

I looked and saw a cluster of firefighters hovering around a smaller Shelby-sized tent. They walked away with a variety of tools. I wanted a fire ax. Or a hatchet. I didn’t like to go anywhere on the fire line without one. That and a shovel, which was easy enough to latch onto my backpack. Still, if they had a Trailblazer, a relatively new yet handy piece of equipment, I’d take it. The Trailblazer was used for scraping, trenching, and grubbing. Its blade was over six inches long and had tines much like a metal rake on the other side of the shovel/ax part. It could roll logs, cut a trench, scrape, and clear a trail.

Alas, when we got to the tent that type of equipment was gone, but I snatched up a Troop Tool, a combination tool that had a diagonal angle shovel like a fire shovel, with a ninety-degree angle for line scraping, changing, and mopping up. The blade of this tool could fold up against the handle and be used as a staff or a walking stick when traversing steep ground, which sounded like the area into which Matt and I would be heading. In spite of the multi-tool, I also grabbed a short handheld hatchet and a military style shovel that could be broken down and folded. I shrugged out of my backpack, attached the shovel and hatchet to the sides, and then re-situated the backpack on my shoulders, reaching down to grasp my multi-tool.

Matt had chosen the Bonnie Hammer, which looked like a combination ax on one side and a long, narrow hammer on the other. He also selected a Dragon Rhinehart, which was also a short-handled piece of equipment with a curved triangular shaped metal head riveted to the top that could be used to dig a trench, chop at underbrush, and like my Troop Tool, it could be folded and broken down into smaller sections.

The equipment we had chosen wasn’t heavy, on purpose, as I knew that we would have to travel fast and light. I thought of this assignment as a recon of sorts. Each of us grabbed a walkie, and I checked to make sure mine was working, just as Matt did. Then, we looked at each other, nodded, and wordlessly stepped onto the crew truck that would take us closer to our ultimate location.

Bearing our tools and weapons against the fire, we marched off into battle, or at least that’s how I saw myself. Marching off to battle a faceless enemy, one that left nothing but pain and devastation in its wake. We were both focused on the task ahead. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard of homes, neighborhoods, campgrounds, resorts, you name it, having been cleared by local authorities, only to find, sadly, charred bodies after a fire had swept through.

From the looks of the map on the brochure, it looked like the valley we would descend into was quite narrow. Almost a gorge of sorts. I don’t know why anyone would want to go camping in there, but that was not for me to say.

I sat beside Matt on the seat, so close yet feeling so distant from him—emotionally at least. It made me a bit sad to think that our relationship might be coming to an end, but I shook my head and looked out the window, refusing to think about it. Today was going to be an incredibly physical and exhausting day, even more so than what I had endured over the past several days. Added to that would be the sense of urgency in checking and making sure that all the campsites in the sprawling campground were indeed abandoned, just in case the fire managed to sweep down the ridge line. If the fire did manage to head down slope, a full retreat would probably be called and the base camp would once again have to relocate.

The mountainsides were so close in the narrow valley into which we would be heading that it wouldn’t take much of a wind for the fire to jump over the gap and leap onto the next mountain. I glanced at Matt, saw him sitting calmly in this seat, hands clasped together, but not tightly, almost as if he was just relaxing. His body seemed loose, his eyes closed, and I wondered what he was thinking about.

Without saying anything, I turned once again toward the window, staring out to the north. I saw nothing but smoke, flames, and the charred remains of patches of mountainside where the fire had already consumed its fuel, only to surge ahead in the hunt for more. This was the biggest fire I had ever fought, and it was also turning out to be one of the most challenging I had ever faced.

The crew truck bounced over a barely cleared path, its wheels bouncing and rolling over rocks, large branches, and other debris without fail. The driver tightly clutched the steering wheel so tightly that I noticed his knuckles were white. Their job wasn’t easy either. They were responsible for getting dozens of Hotshots up and down the lines safely, but in conditions like this, with treacherous paths that were practically nonexistent and difficult to see, I had to admire their tenacity.

For the first time since I arrived at this fire, I felt choked up. The efforts of all these men and women, the sacrifices they were making, the chance they took even knowing that they could die in a freak accident. I thought about Matt, his near devastating accident and then Sam slipping down over the side of the mountain and landing on that shelf, breaking numerous bones.

All of us took great risks to do this, but I had never met a Hotshot or any wild firefighter that wasn’t in love with this job. They threw themselves at danger with determination and tenacity. It was a strange camaraderie among us. One that a civilian couldn’t possibly understand. Much like the camaraderie felt between soldiers who had been in combat. Unless you were there, unless you experienced the dangers, the adrenaline, the fear and the uncertainty, there was no way anyone outside of that environment could relate, no matter how hard they wanted to.

And that was something that Matt and I shared without even having to speak. I didn’t have to explain how I felt with Matt, at least not about the firefighting. The same for him. We also shared that same background in the emergency room. Perhaps that’s what I found so discouraging about the emotional aspect of our relationship. We had a solid foundation. Commonalities. Shared experiences. Tragic histories.

I didn’t want that tragedy to form the foundation of our relationship, but rather the ability to rise above the tragedies that had shaped much of our adult lives. Life was precious. Tentative. None of us lived with the guarantee that we would be here tomorrow.

I shoved the maudlin thoughts from my head and focused on what we might find in the narrow valley. I imagined us going through the routine of making our way down, checking every campsite as we went. How long would it take? I had no idea. It wasn’t far, mile-wise, but it also depended on the terrain and what we found.

Perhaps, right this minute, he was thinking the same thoughts as I. Maybe he was envisioning us making our way down into the valley, down along the stream that wound its way through the bottom. It would be tough going, but I knew I could do it, just as much as I knew he could. And that’s the connection I felt with him—the confidence, the stability, the strength.

“Stop scowling.”

I turned to look at Matt and saw him staring at me. “What?”

“What are you scowling about?”

I certainly couldn’t tell him that I was thinking about us, so I gave a lame shake of my head.

“We’ll get down into that valley, scour those camps, and then we’ll head back up to the fire line. No big deal, right?”

I offered a lame smile, staring at his gorgeous eyes, those lips, which I desperately wished that I could kiss right this moment. With determination, I shut those thoughts from my head and nodded. Then, to my dismay, I saw him frown again. He shook his head.

“How many times have we been told in area was cleared when it wasn’t.” He paused, as if in thought. “Starting at the north end, we’re going to have to work quickly.,If anybody is in there, God help us. If that fire comes down the slope and there are people in there, there’s a chance we won’t be able to save them.”

I had thought the same thing, but I didn’t like to dwell on it. There was always a chance of missing someone, of overlooking a person trying to flee or hide from the flames. Even though our rational thoughts often told us it was impossible, our sense of self-preservation, our desire for survival made us run.

The last fire I had been on, one of the firefighters had been caught in a back draft. He was on foot, and he literally raced ahead of the fire, only twenty feet or so behind him as it seemed to chase him for over a mile. He had just about been ready to collapse from exhaustion, prepared to accept his fate, when he’d fallen over a short cliff and landed in a deep stream. He had survived even though the fire had jumped the stream and raced onward.