One Hot Summer (15 page)

He didn't notice that she'd bumped against the coat tree near the door until it teetered. Micah lunged past Remedy, reaching for it, but he was too late. Top-heavy with a pile of coats and jackets, the tree toppled sideways and smacked into the coffee table, knocking his fern off the edge of the table. It shattered with an explosion of terra-cotta and potting soil.

Remedy hovered over the mess, aghast, her hands gripping her hair, but there was no way in hell Micah was going to let a minor mishap interfere with the night he had planned for her.

“Oh my God. I'm sorry. I didn't—”

It was Micah's chance to do what he'd been dying to all night. He threw her over his shoulder in a fireman carry and hauled her straight to his bedroom.

*   *   *

Micah laid Remedy on his bed with a tenderness wholly opposite from the brute force he'd used to sweep her off her feet. The shaft of gray-blue moonlight from behind the gauzy curtain over the window illuminated his muscled arms and shoulders and cut a spotlight over his torso, shading and highlighting hard pecs and ripples of abdominal muscles that she was desperate to explore with her lips.

In the shadowy darkness, with the only sounds the subtle whir of the air conditioner and their heavy breathing, Remedy felt transported out of time, out of Dulcet. On his bed, with his powerful body curving over her, the world narrowed to heat and flesh and the irrepressible chemistry that drew them together like magnets.

The mattress dipped again as he brought his other knee onto the bed. She spread her legs, inviting him forward with a nudge of her feet to his sides. He dipped his head and kissed her. Clutching his back, she dragged him down on top of her. His skin was hot to the touch. Muscle and bone moving and flexing, powerful.

His body curved over hers. The openmouthed deep, wet kisses he gave her obliterated every coherent thought. All that existed was Micah and kissing and the white-hot ball of need building inside of her with every stroke of his tongue against hers. So much kissing. She was starved for the taste of his mouth, the spicy scent of his skin.

His hands roved over her body, touching her everywhere, as though mapping her physical form, pausing at her breasts. He broke their kiss and dropped his mouth over her nipple, suckling in a complicated rhythm of movements with his tongue and lips until she had no choice but to cry out with the bliss of it.

She snaked a hand between them and stroked his erection. Grunting, he moved to her other nipple and continued the same expert care. She stroked him, pulling skin over steel faster and faster until his hips got in on the action, moving in time with her.

Without notice, he rolled off her body and lay on his side against her. His hand found her pussy again. She arched, urging him onward. As in the truck, his touch was exploratory at first. She showed him with moans and whimpers where she wanted him to go. When the blunt tip of his finger hit the sweet spot on the side of her clit, her body was wracked with a shudder of ecstasy.

“Found it,” he crooned, rotating his finger over the spot, over and over, absolutely relentless. Then his lips dropped over her tight left nipple and sucked.

Yes.
“Harder,” she whimpered.

“My mouth or finger?”

“Both,” she bit out. The impossible ache of need turned molten. She felt the build of release with every scratch of his finger and relinquished her grip on his cock to roll her head back and submit to the all-consuming sensation.

She gave a strangled moan of protest when his lips left her nipple and traveled over her belly, even though she knew where he was headed. Even though she knew how fantastic it was going to feel.

Then he was between her thighs again. His chin and lips grazed the strip of hair on her mound. She gripped the sheet in both hands, hanging on to the buildup, the desperate anticipation.

He breathed a slow, hot stream of air onto her body's center.

“Micah.” The word trembled out of her on an unsteady breath.

His fingers opened her and even that slight touch sent ripples of pleasure through her body. This was going to be good. It was going to be everything.

The flat of his tongue licked up the length of her tender flesh. She groaned at the torture of it. Normally, she liked it slow down there. She liked every fold and wrinkle of skin tended to by her partner's tongue, but tonight she was all about her clit and surrendering to the raw, wild pleasure of their explosive lust. Thank goodness Micah felt the same way. It took a little searching, but his tongue found the same hot spot as his finger had. She rewarded him with a cry and raked her fingers through his hair.

It wasn't long before she felt the building pressure again. “I'm close. Oh damn, so close.”

His tongue stopped. She peeled her eyes open to find him looking up the length of her body. His chin and lips glistened with her wetness and his nostrils flared. Untamed, powerful. All hers.

“Come now or come while I fuck you? Or both? Tell me what you want.” His voice was rough and thick, his breathing labored.

She loved that he asked. Loved the lack of assumptions about her body and her needs. She'd experienced a lot of first times with lovers and so understood how rare his approach was.

The pressure of her need for release verged on painful, but the prospect of having him inside her, of finding her pleasure while they moved together, was too alluring to resist. Straightening her leg, she skimmed the length of his body with her toes. “While you fuck me.”

There was that wolfish smile again.

He pushed up and sat back on his heels, then stretched his legs off the bed. She squeezed her legs together as she watched him walk, drinking her fill of his flexed muscles and hard planes, of the jut of his thick, long cock.

Condom on, lube from a bottle in his nightstand. Such a classy move, like his asking was. He knew women's bodies. He cared about the details in a way few of her other lovers had, and the easy, confident way he commanded every aspect of her pleasure left her with nothing to worry over. No need for her to educate him or stroke his ego. She was free to relax into the way he made her feel and the way she wanted to make him feel—the way they felt together.

Then he was back on the bed, near her knees. He took hold of her ankles and propped her feet on his collarbone, which pushed her knees higher and tipped her hips up. He shoved a pillow under her butt.

“Ready?”

“Like you wouldn't believe.”

He pressed his torso toward her, arching her back and pinning her lower body in place as he lined his cock up with her entrance. “Bet ya I do.”

His lubed-up fingers found her clit again. He stroked in a tight circle, sending shocks of sensation coursing through her. “Is this position working for you?”

Despite her hazy grip on reality, the corners of her lips kicked up in a smile.
Such a gentleman.
“Yes.”

He dipped two fingers inside and winced, groaning. “Damn, that's so fucking good.”

“Take me, Micah.”

With their eyes locked on each other, he did just that, sinking into her with a maddening slowness. The languid, easy coupling didn't last long before the raw, desperate desire that had been building between them all night gave way to a hard, fast fuck. She could see it in his face, the moment he let go of his control and gave in to his basest feelings, in his scowl, his bared teeth, in the way his eyes went distant and dark.

Her legs fell from his shoulders, spreading. He pitched forward, locking their bodies together again and surging deeper into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moved with him in a frenzied spiral to the end. She cried out with that first burst of release and clutched him tighter with her legs and arms as waves of pleasure rocked her body. He buried his face in her neck and his body jerked. His staccato breath cooled her perspiring skin as he joined her in rapture.

It took her a while for the haze to clear, and when it did she was lying side by side with Micah in his bed, their arms and shoulders touching. His eyes were closed and his chest heaved with labored breaths.

Holy shit.
She'd slept with Ravel County's slow-drawling, toothpick-chewing, gun-toting, diesel truck–driving, firefighting Alpha Bubba. And it had been great. Damn great.
Wow.
That was going to take some time to sink in.

He rolled his head to the side. “What are you smiling about?”

“I think I need a post-sex cheeseburger.”

He let out a belly laugh that would have shaken the heavens. It was a wonderful sound, rich and warm. “I've created a monster.”

“We should probably talk about our jobs.”

“Do we have to?”

Yes, they did. There was so much they needed to say, so many details to work out, because this couldn't be their only time. She wanted endless summer nights like this one. She wanted to ride their affair until it crashed and burned. Or until she left for Los Angeles again. It was bound to be complicated given their careers, but their raw, wicked connection would make up for that in spades.

She mustered her courage, then laid it out there for him. “Once wasn't enough for me.”

He rolled to his side and tucked his hand under his pillow. Even in the dim moonlight, she saw his eyes glimmered with sincerity. “You read my mind, but that's about the only thing I know for sure right now. I keep circling back to what happened at Hog Heaven when your coworkers showed up. I keep thinking about how we need to keep this totally separate from our jobs.”

She raked her fingers across his chest. “Our little secret.”

“I like the way that sounds.”

“To be clear, I'm not going to stop fighting to give my clients every last detail of their dream weddings just because you and I are…” She almost said
romantically involved
. But this wasn't romance, and she sincerely doubted the two of them had much in common beyond their physical compatibility. Their worlds were too disparate. “Because we slept together.”

“Understood. I'm not going to bend the law for you or for the resort, even knowing how crazy sexy you look in my bed.”

Her neck flushed hot. That was one way of putting it. “You're going to hate the weddings I have coming up this weekend.”

She expected a groan or even a swearword, but he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Is it wrong that I'm looking forward to battling it out with you?”

He bent his face toward hers, but as their lips brushed, a radio on the bedside table buzzed, then chirped to life. “Chief, it's Dusty. We've got a Signal Two with a possible vehicle fire, in the southbound lane Route 275 just inside the Ravel County limits. Riverfield and San Angelo were also called in.”

Micah cursed under his breath. “Speaking of my job.” He swiped the radio up. “Roger that, Dusty. I'm on my way. Call Chet?”

“He's en route,” Dusty said. “See you in a minute.”

Micah stuffed his legs into a pair of slacks. “This is the part of the job I don't like.”

Remedy grabbed a T-shirt from his closet and pulled it over her head. “Why? What's a Signal Two?”

He yanked a navy blue polo shirt from a hanger. “Major vehicle accident with possible injuries. Which is also a part of the job I don't like, but I was talking about having to run out on you like this. I'm really sorry.”

How could she care about their night being cut short when somebody might be hurt in a car accident? “If someone's hurt or there's a fire, then that's where you need to be. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“Grab that radio please.” He wedged his feet into a pair of lace-up boots. “You'll stay until morning?”

Radio in hand, Remedy followed him out of the bedroom, toward the front door. “Can't. Saturday's my busy day. I've got to be at the resort early.”

He rummaged through his discarded jeans for his wallet. “I'm driving my truck to the crash, but wait here and I'll take you to your car when I'm back.”

She picked up his keys from the entryway table. “The diner's only a block away. An easy walk.”

“Don't go doing something dangerous like walking in the dark alone.”

His protectiveness was sweet, even if she was already charting her midnight walk to the diner. But she didn't plan to burn up any more of his response time debating it with him. She handed him his radio and keys. “Roger that, Chief.”

He stuffed the radio in a pocket, angled in for a kiss that was awkward enough to remind Remedy that they were still strangers, even after all they'd done. “Lock the door behind me, okay?”

“Don't worry so much. I can take care of myself.”

With a cringe, he glanced from her to his poor upside-down fern.

She shoved him out the door. “Oh, shut up.”

“Woman, I didn't say nothin'!” he called as he jogged across the driveway to the firehouse and out of sight.

Not more than a minute later, the paramedic truck roared out of the firehouse garage, its sirens wailing and lights flashing, with Micah following close behind in his truck. Remedy opened the window and propped a hip on the sill to listen to the siren and watch Micah's taillights until they disappeared around a corner. What a noble and scary life, to be the one to run toward danger and injury no matter the hour, to be the one with the skills and mental fortitude to drop everything and save lives and restore order to the world's chaos.

When silence descended on the house again, she closed the window and turned to deal with the mess she'd made. She shook potting soil out of Micah's jackets and righted the coat tree, then found a broom and dustpan in a kitchen closet. The poor fern's pot was ruined, so she repotted it in a mixing bowl the best she could, pressing potting soil around the base and cooing and apologizing to the wounded plant for being so impossibly out of balance with her surroundings.

It wasn't until she'd tripped over Micah's cowboy boots while donning her work clothes that the reality of her situation seized hold of her again. She was half-naked in an Alpha Bubba's house after he'd seduced her with bar food at a sawdust-covered roadside joint called Hog Heaven. Growing up, she'd been cultured to be a champagne and caviar girl. Sports cars, not diesel trucks.