Playing With Fire (18 page)

From the doorway,
he
watched
her
. And as he did, his body responded.

The muscles in her long legs bunched with each forward thrust of the pedals. He knew every inch of those legs from hip to toe. Once, while they were showering together at her house, he'd shaved her legs. Lindsay had laughed, indulging his whim. Neither of them had any idea how far it would go. Her laughter was soon replaced with soft, needy sighs when he parted her freshly shaved legs and showed her just how much he'd enjoyed himself.

The pedals of the stationary bike whirred as Lindsay increased speed. Lifting her arms over her head, she stretched and arched her back into a supple, sensual curve. She'd arched like that for him, too, when, desperate to have her one night, he'd taken her from behind as she knelt on the bed.

Dangerous memories. This wasn't the time or place to relive the past. Again, he ordered himself to leave before he did something he'd regret.

It didn't happen. His feet disobeyed and took him straight into the weight room.

She caught sight of him in the mirror. Her arms floated downward, and her legs lost their momentum. He moved forward, weaving his way through the various exercise equipment. Their eyes connected, and he saw in hers the same rising sexual awareness he felt. Embarrassment flashed across her face, and she glanced away.

She'd been remembering, too, he was sure of it. And that certainty made him willing to take risks.

He halted at the treadmill beside the stationary bicycle. Flicking the start switch, he stepped up onto the moving ramp.

"My transfer came through."

"When?” she asked, resuming her pedaling.

They kept their eyes trained forward, looking in the mirror and not at each other. At that angle, Matt had a perfect view of Lindsay's cleavage, made plumper by the snug sports bra she wore.

"Effective immediately.” He increased the treadmill's speed, needing to work off the tension building inside him. It had no effect whatsoever. He could set the speed at sixty miles per hour and it wouldn't be fast enough.

She gave a small nod, her breathing slightly labored. Whether voluntary or involuntary, she pedaled faster, keeping pace with him. “Where are you going?"

"Station 147."

"It could be worse. At least you pulled a decent assignment.” Her lips, moist from a recent licking, parted.

"All things considered, I'm very lucky.” Mesmerized by the sight of her, Matt went out on a limb. Way out. “Come home with me tomorrow morning when our shift is over."

"We agreed to cool it for a while."

He detected a slight lack of conviction in her voice and pressed her harder. “My transfer's official. Nothing stands in the way of our dating."

"It's too soon after what happened with Dennis. People will think you picked a fight with him because of me."

"I did."

She groaned with frustration. “You and I know that, but the rest of the department doesn't have to."

"Emilio does.” They were both breathing rapidly, their torsos rocking rhythmically as their legs worked.

"You told him! You said you wouldn't."

"I didn't have to. He figured it out. Sooner or later, so will everyone else."

"Please.” She looked stricken and vulnerable. “I'm not ready for that."

"I want you, Lindsay. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too,” she admitted softly.

"These last three days have been hell for me. I can't sleep because you're not in bed with me.” His voice deepened to a husky whisper. “Curled up beside me, hogging all the blankets, snoring loud enough to shake the shingles from my new roof."

"I do not snore!"

He smiled at her indignation. “No, but you hog the blankets."

Her chin lifted. “You never complained before."

This time when he spoke, the huskiness in his voice was real. “Hog the blankets all you want, I don't care. Just come home with me tomorrow."

"Matt."

"I promise to make it worth your while."

She visibly steeled herself. “This is about more than sex."

"Yes, but you have to admit, the sex is pretty darn good.” He went on, not giving her a chance to reply. “I love making you come, Lindsay. Anyway and every way. You can't imagine what a turn-on it is for me."

She lowered her gaze to her chest. His eyes followed, and they both stared at her puckered nipples showing through the sports bra.

"That turns me on, too.” Matt's groin tightened. “If we were anyplace else but here, do you know what I'd do?"

"What?” Her mouth formed the word, but if any sound came out, he didn't hear it over the noisy exercise equipment.

"I'd strip off your bra. Then I'd pour strawberry syrup all over your breasts and lick off every drop."

He sensed a shudder of excitement coursing through her.

And though he knew what he was doing went beyond daring and into the realm of total and complete insanity, he didn't stop talking. “Afterwards, I'd strip off the rest of your clothes and pour syrup on your belly. The insides of your thighs. And onto your throbbing clit."

"No more.” Panting hard, she dropped her head and closed her eyes. “I mean it."

He ignored her. Turning off the treadmill, he stepped down and moved to stand behind her. She lifted her head and again their eyes connected in the mirror. Hers were dark and bright, the pupils huge. His were blazing.

He eased marginally closer.

She tensed. “Don't touch me.” Her request was more of a plea than a demand. “It's ... too much."

Without realizing it, Matt's agenda had changed. Initially, he'd wanted only to convince her to accompany him home in the morning. Now, he wanted to—no, needed—to make her comprehend the full extent of their feelings for one another.

"I'm not going to touch you.” To prove it, he gripped the sides of the stationary bike seat with both hands. Then he lowered his head so that his breath fanned the back of her neck. “I'm just going to talk to you. Simple oral communication.” He tilted his head to one side, finding a new spot on her neck to torment. “And we both know how good I am at oral communication."

She made a small sound of protest. “Go away, Matt.” Her voice shook.

"I will, if that's what you really want. Is it?” He blew on her hairline, ruffling several loose tendrils.

She bit her lower lip, not answering.

He waited; every muscle stretched and ready to snap.

At last, her shoulders slumped, and she threw back her head.

That was all the invitation he needed.

"Put your head down. No, look at the mirror, not at me. And whatever I say, don't stop pedaling. Do you understand?"

In response, she pedaled faster.

"Sit down on the seat, hard as you can. Does it feel good? Is it anything like having me between your legs?"

She nodded.

"Move your hips. Back and forth. Hug the seat with your thighs. That's right, baby. Perfect. I want to you think about the first time we made love. Do you remember?"

"Yes,” she answered in a hoarse whisper.

"So do I. I think about it constantly. What it was like to be inside you. How tight you were. And hot. Like you are now."

As if pulled by an invisible magnet, she leaned back into him. There were as close as two people could be without actually touching.

"You rode me that night,” he went on, using words to caress her instead of his hands, “just like you're riding this bike. You wrapped your legs around me and squeezed. Do it again. Squeeze the bike seat like you did me."

She climaxed immediately. Watching her in the mirror, Matt almost lost control himself. Her jaw clenched, holding back her cries. A rosy flush colored her cheeks, her neck, and the top portion of her breasts not covered by the bra. Goose bumps covered her bare arms.

He put his mouth to her ear. “Sweet. So sweet.” Her climax subsided and to Matt's surprise, Lindsay was crying. “What's wrong, baby?"

She reached behind her and pushed at him, dismounting the stationary bike. “Oh, God.” Her hands flew to her face. “I can't believe what we, what I just did."

"Lindsay, please. Don't feel bad.” He touched her then, turning her to face him. “It was fantastic. For me, too."

His reassurances didn't calm her. “What's wrong with me? How could I let you...” She jerked away from him. “How could I let
myself
do something so incredibly stupid?"

"Its all right. No one saw us."

"But they might have. We're already in enough trouble as it is. You especially.” She put a fist in her hair and tugged. “I need to go.” No sooner had she started to leave, then she stopped dead in her tracks. Her rosy cheeks paled.

"You two in here?” Emilio hollered, entering the weight room. “Lunch is ready. Didn't you hear me?

Dennis brought up the rear. He didn't bother hiding his suspicions or his contempt when Lindsay barreled past them, muttering an excuse about changing clothes.

"What's with her?"

"Everything okay?” Emilio asked his tone concerned.

Matt met them halfway across the room, scratching his head as if perplexed. “We were talking. I told her about my transfer. I didn't think she'd get so upset about it."

Dennis rolled his eyes. “Women."

Emilio, his expression curious, glanced at the door, then at them. “Well, lunch is ready if you're hungry."

"I am a little hungry.” The ball of tension inside Matt relaxed. Emilio and Dennis appeared to buy his story.

They all three headed down the hall and into the apparatus room. Booter was gone, presumably with Lindsay. On the other side, Matt took the left doorway toward the bedrooms. “I'm going to wash up before lunch."

He found Lindsay in the laundry room and cornered her as she was loading the washing machine. “I know you're upset."

"You have no idea.” She slammed the lid down and punched the knob. The machine sprang to life, the loud rush of streaming water echoing off the walls.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad at you.” She tried skirting past him, but he blocked her.

"The hell you aren't."

"No, I'm not,” she said decisively, putting a safe distance between them. “I'm angry with myself. And shocked. And ashamed.” Fighting tears, she covered her eyes with her hands.

This wasn't going according to plan. Matt searched for the right words to say. “Lindsay—"

"It's over between us.” Her hands fell away, revealing a face set in stone.

"You can't be serious. Because of what happened in the weight room? So we got carried away."

"Not we. Me. I got carried away.” Hugging herself, she paced the room. When she spoke, her voice cracked. “My life has gone berserk ever since we started seeing each other, and it scares me. I don't understand the things I'm doing, the chances I'm taking. And I especially don't like the person I've become.” She came to a halt, her back to him. “I've worked so hard to get where I am, and I won't throw it all away. Neither should you."

He knew then he was losing her and like a drowning man, grabbed at anything that might keep him afloat.

"We'll get through this. Once I'm transferred—"

"That won't make any difference. We could work in different fields, on different planets for that matter, and I'd still lose my head around you.” She sniffed and ruthlessly shoved the hair back from her face. Turning around, she said, “We'd better make an appearance before Emilio and Dennis come looking for us again.

"I love you, Lindsay.” He reached for her.

She retreated beyond his grasp. “I love you, too. I think I always have on some level, and I probably always will. But that doesn't automatically make us good together."

"You're wrong about that."

She didn't answer. The pain in her eyes spoke for her.

With a small shake of her head, she fled the room and left Matt alone to wallow in the ruins of his own making.

Chapter 11

Lindsay crawled backwards across the concrete floor on her hands and knees, unraveling a line of electrical conduit from a large plastic spool.

"Hey, Glen. Is this enough?"

A man perched on the open rafters above her looked down. A ball cap with the name “Grand Canyon State Electric” printed on the front covered his grey hair. His leather tool belt, similar to the one Lindsay wore, only more heavily loaded, hung from his waist, the buckle buried beneath his pot belly.

"Yep, that'll do. Go ahead and cut ‘er."

Lindsay removed a pair of wire cutters from her tool belt and sliced the wire. “You want I should just leave it here?"

"Scottie will take care of the rest as soon as he's finished in the bedrooms. Can you run another line in the kitchen, same as here?"

"Sure. No problem.” Lindsay struggled clumsily to her feet. The tool belt felt like an anchor tied to her waist. Her back ached, and her knees were killing her. A casual observer wouldn't know by the look of her that she worked out on a regular basis.

Her cheeks heated at the reminder of that day last week in the weight room and what had transpired between her and Matt. If Emilio and Dennis had showed up one minute earlier...

She pushed the image from her mind. Better to forget it ever happened. And to forget about Matt, too. She couldn't be trusted with him that much was apparent. They mixed about as well as charcoal starter and a lit match. Warning: stand back from open flames to avoid injury.

Lindsay sighed. Forgetting was proving difficult, particularly when so many things reminded her of Matt. She thought she'd be safe today by volunteering to help with a Habitat for Humanity project. Besides making points with the Battalion Chief, it kept her away from familiar places that evoked unwanted memories. Or so she thought.

Mostly, however, it was for a good cause. Lindsay had been on the scene when this particular house burned. She vividly recalled seeing the old woman crying in the street as her home and all her possessions were reduced to ashes. Being a part of the reconstruction, even in a small way, lifted Lindsay's otherwise low spirits.

Of course, that was the same day she and Matt had gone too far in the equipment room and narrowly avoided being caught by Dennis. Again, her cheeks flamed.

For crying out loud! Did everything have to remind her of Matt?