Flashpoint (9 page)

“Won't happen,” she said so firmly that he was momentarily stymied by the fact that she was so sure she wouldn't want him again. “You just promised me no falling,” she said. “I promise it right back. I'll be leaving town before I can start worrying about any sort of meaningful relationship.”

True, all true, but…

“Besides, I'm not exactly the type to ignite any sort of wild passion, so—”

“Whoa.” He was still reeling from her certainty that she would get him out of her system so easily.
“What?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I'm awfully buttoned-up, Zach. Ask anyone.”

“I'm asking you.”

“It's years ingrained. Far too long a story to tell you now, but—”

“Give me the CliffsNotes version, then.” This he had to hear. Not the type to ignite wild passion? Was she serious?

“I just put the prospect of sex on the table,” she said. “And you want to talk? See? Proof right there that I don't ignite passion.”

“Oh, don't worry. We're going to have sex on the table. Or on the rock.” He smiled when just the words brought a blush to her cheeks. “But first I want to hear the long Brooke story.”

“Really?”

She sounded so surprised that it squeezed his heart. Had no one ever bothered to try to get beneath her skin? “Really.”

“Well…you already know I came here from back East.”

“Boston. And before that, Florida.”

“You remembered.”

“I'm a good listener.”

“And a good cook. And a surfer. And—”

“This is about you,” he reminded her.

“But see, that's my point, Zach. I'm not good at a bunch of things like you are. I've never had the time to be. Before college, I lived in South Carolina. Before that, New York. Before that, Virginia. Before that…so many other places I can't even remember them all.”

“Because your mom liked to move around a lot after your father died.”

“Yeah.”

So Brooke had been dragged around like a rag doll, with no say in her life until she'd been on her own. No wonder she liked her careful control. “Sounds tough.”

“It doesn't matter—this isn't a poor-me story. My point is, I got my uptight analness from my childhood, or lack thereof, but I could be worse, and yes, I realize you're thinking that'd be quite a feat, but it's true. In any case, I've led a sort of wanderlust life.”

“When all you really wanted was stability. Comfort.”

Again, she revealed surprise that he got her. “Yes. And then my grandmother died and shocked everyone by leaving me her great big old house, chock-full of sixty-plus years of stuff, even though she didn't know me. I shouldn't have cared, but I did. I couldn't just let strangers box it up and get rid of it.”

“Of course not.”

She looked around, at the rock, the ocean, gesturing wide. “So here I am.”

“So here you are. In a house. A home, actually. That's probably new to you.”

“Very.” She lifted a shoulder. “At least for another few weeks, until the job's over, and the house sells. It's going on the market this weekend.” She met his gaze, and in hers the truth was laid bare. No matter what happened, despite the danger of caring too much, or falling a little too hard, she didn't want to miss out on this.

Neither did he. The wind kicked, stirring the warm evening. Her bare arm bumped his, a strand of her hair slid along his jaw as he slowly pulled her closer.

She tipped her head up to his, eyes luminous as her hand came up to his chest. She waited until their mouths nearly touched before she held him off. “I'm going to let loose tonight, Zach.” Her fingers dug in, just a little. “Consider yourself warned.”

His pulse leaped. So did other parts of his anatomy. “I think I can handle it.”

“Sure?”

“Very,” he murmured, stroking a hand down her hair, her back, cupping her sweet ass and scooting her a little closer, closing his eyes when her mouth brushed over his jaw, then met his.

Oh, yeah. He ran his hands down her body, half braced for her to come to her senses and stop him.

Any moment now…

Instead, she kissed him just the way he liked to be kissed, long and deep and wet, and raw, helpless pleasure flooded him.

And instead of her coming to her senses, he lost his.

A
T
Z
ACH'S RESPONSE
to her kiss—a thrillingly low, rough sound from deep in his throat—Brooke melted and kissed him again, and then again…

“Brooke.”

Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes.

His breathing had gone uneven, and against her body she could feel his, solid and warm and…hard.

Very hard.

She put her hand to his chest and felt the solid thudding of his heart. “Don't change your mind.”

“No.”
Eyes hot, a low laugh escaped Zach. “No. But we could go to my place, or—”

“No.” She wanted another kiss. She loved the way he tasted, the way he smelled, so innately male she could hardly stand it. How long since she'd felt this way? Too long, that's all she knew. “Right here. It'll help me relax, Zach. I really need to relax.”

Laughing silkily, he slid his hands to her waist, squeezed, then let them glide up her ribs, stopping just before her breasts. Her aching breasts. “Anything to help,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

That worked. So worked. He wanted her. She could feel it in the tension in his broad shoulders, in the taut muscles of his back. Knowing it gave her a heady rush of power, and she demanded more, pressing closer.

His hands slid down her back, pulling her onto his lap, making her momentarily lose concentration as she tried to remember—did she have on pretty panties?—but then she couldn't think at all because his hands were skimming beneath her dress and were on those panties, and he let out another of those sexy rough sounds…

Oh yeah, letting loose worked. She should have tried it a long time ago. Already it was beating back the inexplicable loneliness she hadn't been able to put a name to. With Zach, she never felt alone; it was part of his appeal. He fascinated her. He had from the start. He was such a presence, so virile, so physical—especially right this minute.

“Brooke?”

He wore his intense firefighter face, or maybe that was just his intensity, period, but mixed in with it was need and desire, stark, glorious desire—for her. “Yes?”

His eyes were on hers as his hands continued to mess with her mind. “What are you wearing beneath this dress?”

“Not much.”

The sound he made gave her another heady rush, and she gripped the hem of his T-shirt. Helping her, he tugged it over his head, then pulled her back in. The full physical contact made her hum, and then his fingers played with the tie at the back of her neck, the only thing holding up her dress, and the breath evaporated in her lungs.

“Your skin is so soft.” He was touching as much of it as he could, running his hands up and down her sides, her arms, her back, under her dress, pressing his face to her throat. “And you smell so damn good…”

He smelled good, too. So good she leaned in and put her mouth to his shoulder, opening it on him because she needed a taste, just a little teeny tiny taste—

He sucked in a breath when she bit him.

“Sorry,” she managed behind a horrified laugh when he lifted his head. “I'm sorry. I couldn't help it, I just had to—”

The words backed up in her throat as the front of her dress slipped to her waist. He immediately filled his hands with her breasts. “Sorry,” he murmured, repeating her words. “I couldn't help it, I just had to.”

She would have laughed again but his thumbs slowly rasped over her nipples, and any laughter vanished. Unbelievable. She was closer to an orgasm than she'd been during the last time she'd actually had sex. “Zach…”

“Relaxing yet?” His voice was low, silky.

“T-trying.”

“Good. You keep trying.” Bending her back over his arm, he dragged hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down her throat and across a breast, and sucked her into his mouth.

At the feel of his tongue stroking her nipple, she gasped, and then again when he settled her so that his erection pressed against the core of her.

He felt hard, very hard. And big. She looked into his glittering eyes, gulping as his hands slid down her thighs, then up the backs of them to play with the edging of her panties.

Oh, God. This was happening. They were doing this. She untied his board shorts.

He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties.

She tugged his shorts down, freeing the essentials.

He repeated the favor with her panties and slipped his hardness between her legs, using the rough pad of one finger to stroke her.

She quivered. “Zach—”

He did it again, adding a second finger, and she tightened her legs on his hand so he couldn't stop, because if he did she was going to die.

“I won't stop,” he promised, reading her mind, playing in the slippery heat he'd generated, a heat she'd forgotten existed.

“Condom,” she managed.

He went utterly still, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Christ. I don't—Brooke. I didn't think about—”

“I have one.”

His gaze, so steamy hot it singed everything it touched, met hers.

“In my purse. It's been there for a while…” She fumbled for the zippered compartment. “I wish I had two—”

His laugh was soft and sexy as he took it from her fingers. “This'll work for now.”

Biting her lower lip, she nodded, touching his chest, his flat abs, and then lower still, where his shorts were opened.

He stopped breathing.

So did she.

Bold in a way she hardly recognized, she wrapped her fingers around him. Loving the way that made him let out a rough oath, she slowly stroked. Swearing again, he slid the skirt of her dress up to her waist, baring her to the night and his searing gaze.

“Um…”

“Relaxed yet?”

“Not quite, no.” Her dress was now bunched across her belly, leaving her hanging out in the wind. Literally. Relaxed? Try wound up tighter than a coil.

“Lie back, Brooke.”

Doing so would pretty much spread her out like a feast. “Yeah, but—”

He merely laid her back himself. Towering over her, he slid a leg between hers and glided his hands down her arms to join his fingers with hers. “How about now? Relaxed now?” he murmured, pulling their entwined hands up, over her head.

Was he kidding? She was so far from relaxed she couldn't even remember the meaning of the word. He was holding her down in the dark, only the moonlight slashing across his face, making him look like a complete stranger. But instead of the logical response of panic, she arched up against him, wanting more.

He gave it to her. Lowering his mouth to within a fraction of hers, he nipped at her lower lip, then danced his tongue to hers, long and sure and deep, and she gave back everything she got.

She was a different woman with him, someone who let herself live and love. And she wanted to be loved, more than she'd imagined. Closing her eyes, she rocked into him, moving impatiently against him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back. “Zach, please.”

“I plan to. I plan to please you until you—”

“Relax?”

“Come.” He slid down her body, kissing her stomach, her ribs. “And then again.” Making himself at home between her thighs, he smiled wickedly. “And again.”

Oh, God. If he kept at it, she was going to go off in approximately two minutes—

He gave a slow, sure stroke of his tongue and she revised her estimation to two
seconds.
His hands skimmed up her legs to her inner thighs, holding her right where he wanted her, and then he added a finger to the mix and she couldn't have stopped from exploding to save her life. It hit her like a freight train, and he made her ride it out to the very end, slowly bringing her down…

After a moment, or maybe a year, she came back to her senses and realized she lay there on the rock, staring up at the stars, her hands fisted in Zach's hair, holding him to her in a way that would have horrified her if she'd been capable of rational thought, which she wasn't. Not quite yet.

He pressed his lips to one inner thigh, then the other, then crawled up her body, his mouth trailing hot and wet kisses along her skin as he went. She ran her hands up and over his back, his shoulders, and he let out a quiet sound of pleasure.

Taking her face in his hands, his mouth came back on hers as he pushed inside her, filling her so that she thought she might burst, holding her there on the very edge with fierce thrusts that sent pleasure spiraling through her, so far beyond anything she could have imagined. They never stopped kissing, not until the end when she fell apart for him again, and when he did the same for her, his head thrown back, her name on his lips.

When it was over, he rolled to his back so that they lay there on the rock side by side, breathing like lunatics, staring up at the stars, listening to the ocean crashing onto the sand just below them.

“That was…” She let out a half laugh. Words failed.

“Yeah.” His voice was husky, rough. “That was.”

Turning her head, she looked at him and felt her heart catch at the sight of him, all long, defined grace, lit only by the silvery moon, which was a good color for him. Hell, any color would be good for him with that mouthwatering body.

Shifting to his side, he smiled as he reached for her and pulled her against him.

A cuddle.

Damn it, he really knew the moves, didn't he. Hard to keep her distance with him, that was for sure. But she was letting loose, so what the hell. Brooke scooted in as tight as she could get, loving the steady thud of his heart beneath her ear, loving the warm strength of his body all around hers, loving the feel of his hands skimming over her. “Maybe we should get up before we forget we only had the one condom.”

His answer was a soft laugh, and he pressed his mouth to her ear. “There are plenty of ways around that.”

She stared into his naughty, bad-boy smile, a smile that assured her that whatever
ways
he had in mind, she was going to like them. Her body was already halfway to another orgasm at just the thought. “The party.”

“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “Right.”

“I mean, we should go, right? Blake said you need the kiss-up points with the chief.” She sat up, looking for her panties, which were behind them, lying on top of his shorts. It was silly, given what they'd just done, but it looked so intimate. Too intimate. Snatching them both, she tossed him his shorts, and watched him pull them on that body she could happily look at unclothed for hours.

Days.

Weeks.

Oh, God. So much for keeping her head.

She spent the next few awkward seconds trying to right her dress, and not having much luck until he turned her away from him and tied her halter himself. “Brooke?”

Just the sound of his voice did her in. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

Zach stroked a finger down the back of her neck, evoking a shiver and a yearning that weakened her knees again. “I loved watching you let loose.”

“Twice.”

He grinned as he pulled on his shirt. “I still think we should try for a perfect hat trick.”

“Party,” she said weakly, tempted to do just that. “We're going to the party.”

 

T
HEY WALKED
down the beach toward the party together, Brooke's mind working overtime. The hot, sexy guy walking alongside her had seen her naked.

Touched her naked.

Kissed her naked—

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Brooke jerked her thoughts to the present and looked at Cristina, who stood in front of them on the sand in a tiny bikini top and a pair of board shorts riding low on her trim hips. “You two look quite…
flushed
this evening.”

Just behind her, the chief's birthday bash appeared to be in full swing. There was a big bonfire and several barbecues going. Music blared out of a set of speakers, and people were sitting on the sand, standing around the fire or dancing. Aidan was swaying like peanut butter on jelly with a pretty brunette. Dustin and Sam were happily flipping burgers. Blake was adding logs to the fire.

There were a bunch of other people, as well, from different shifts and different firehouses. In the center, enjoying the attention, stood Chief Allan Stone himself. A tall man in his fifties, he had the air of an army general and commanded respect—even fear—on the job. But tonight he was smiling and looking more comfortable than Brooke had ever seen him.

But mostly all she could see was the cynical twist to Cristina's lips as the female firefighter took the time to scrutinize Brooke from head to toe.

Brooke could only imagine what she looked like, and shifting uncomfortably, glanced down at herself. Yep, her dress was a wrinkled mess, not a surprise given that ten minutes ago it'd been rucked up to her waist.