She barely glances at the storage closet as we pass it, and back on the front steps, she looks relaxed and calm.
“Congratulations, Miss Lockhart. You climbed the mountain. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
She smiles.
“It took me a long time to feel comfortable going into tall buildings,” I admit. “Here you are, just two weeks after, already conquering your fears.”
She laughs ruefully. “I wouldn’t say that. I still don’t go into tall buildings. And I never fly.”
My eyes widen. “Never?”
She shakes her head.
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
“One step at a time, Lieutenant.”
We make small talk on the way back. She stops as we pass the firehouse. “Isn’t this where you get off?”
“I figured I’d walk you home today. Besides, my house is this way.”
“Okay.”
We get to the end of the block and turn the corner. She looks at me. “You live down here?”
I point in the direction of my townhouse. “At the end of the block, then one street that way.”
She seems surprised. “You’re kidding. That’s where I live, too.”
“Wow. That’s unreal. I can’t believe we haven’t run into each other.”
“Brooklyn has 2.5 million people.” She smirks. “Yeah, what a surprise.”
We turn another corner, and she starts to cross the street. “I’m just down here.” She stops in front of a townhouse, and my jaw drops. “What is it?” she asks.
I point to the townhouse directly across the street from hers. “See the blue curtains in that second-floor window? That’s Leo’s room.”
“You must be joking.”
“Small world, huh?”
The street is lined with cars on either side. It’s busy enough that one generally crosses at the corner. But now I know why she looked familiar to me when I first saw her. I’ve probably seen her hundreds of times and paid no attention. When you live in New York City, with its millions of people, everybody blends together.
“How long have you lived there?” she asks.
“A little more than two years. We moved in just before Leo was born. You?”
“My whole life,” she says. “It’s the house I grew up in. Mom couldn’t bear to leave it after Dad died and then when I had Evelyn at such a young age, I couldn’t leave. Even though I could now, it works for us. I love living with them.” She starts to climb the steps. “Thanks for helping me, Brett. I really appreciate it.”
Disappointment rises from the pit of my stomach. She’s saying goodbye. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. An offer for a cup of coffee maybe? I know this isn’t the last time I’ll see her, now that I know she lives so close. But could it be the last time she wants to see me?
“Dinner?” I blurt out.
She turns around and draws her brows at me.
“I mean, would you go to dinner with me? Tomorrow night.”
I see the answer in her eyes before the words leave her mouth. “I don’t date firefighters, Brett.”
“Oh.” I stand here and once again try to figure out the woman in front of me. “You don’t date them as a general rule, or you don’t want to date me specifically.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
The sad look on her face tells me it’s not me. It’s her dad.
“So there are three things you’re afraid of then: tall buildings, airplanes, and firefighters.”
She doesn’t answer me. She reaches the door and waves. “Thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
After she goes inside, I try to think of things I should have said to get her to change her mind. I’m no good at this anymore. I’m sure Bass or Denver, or hell … anybody, would have come up with something.
I’m about to walk away in defeat when I hear a bloodcurdling scream from her townhouse. I rush up the stairs only to find the door is locked. “Emma!” I shout. When she doesn’t answer, I kick in the door, breaking the frame in the process. “Emma!”
Chapter Sixteen
Emma
“In here,” I yell, thankful to hear Brett’s voice.
He runs into the kitchen to see me perched on a chair. I point to the corner. “Snake. There.”
Brett lets out a huge sigh as he looks up to the ceiling in relief. “Jesus Christ, Emma. I thought you were being murdered.”
“I was about to be,” I say, peering at the snake.
He takes a look. “It’s a garter snake, Emma. Small. Non-venomous. Mostly docile.”
“Well how was I supposed to know that?”
He puts a hand on the chair to stabilize it. “You can come down now.”
“Not on your life.”
“So tall buildings, planes, firefighters, and snakes,” he says.
“Apparently.”
He picks up the snake as if it were a kitten. He nods to the back door. “I’ll just put him out there.”
I am aghast. “Not there!”
“Do you know how many of these are already living in your backyard?”
I shudder. “I don’t want to know. Just get rid of it please.”
I watch as he opens the sliding door to the back, crosses the small deck, goes down the stairs, and then carries the snake all the way to the back corner of our tiny yard.
“Thank you. Again,” I say when he returns.
He goes into the kitchen and washes his hands at the sink. “No problem. But don’t thank me yet. I busted down your front door when I heard you scream.”
I run to the foyer and see the door off kilter and the door frame splintered. I groan. “Oh gosh.”
“Do you have a hammer and some nails?” he asks.
“Of course.”
“I’ll nail your frame back into place so you can lock the door. Then I’ll come by tomorrow to replace the wood, paint it, and get it back to normal.”
“You can do all that?” I ask, impressed.
“I have skills, Emma.”
“Right. Firefighter. Mechanic. And apparently, carpenter.”
“Maybe even a few more you don’t know about,” he says with a wink.
I’m blushing again—when did this become a thing with me?—and I quickly fetch the tools he wants. I don’t need to be thinking about his other skills. I can only imagine. There’s a twinge in my belly when I turn around and he’s standing so close I almost run into him. I hold up the hammer and nails. “Here you go.”
He chuckles and works on the door. Men who can do things always impress me.
“Could you come back for the other stuff on Monday instead of tomorrow?” I ask.
“I suppose,” he says. “You don’t want me to come back tomorrow?”
Tomorrow is Saturday. I don’t want Evelyn and my mother getting the wrong idea. My mom always blows everything out of proportion. And Evelyn, well, I know how her mind works. It’s just safer if he returns when they aren’t here.
“Will the door hold until then?” I ask.
“It should, but it won’t look pretty.” He hands me the hammer. “There. Done for now.” He closes the gap between us. “Emma, why don’t you really want me to fix it tomorrow? Are you afraid your mom or daughter will get the wrong idea?”
How does he seem to know everything I’m thinking? “Of course not,” I lie. “I just don’t want to take away from your weekend. I’m sure you’d like to spend it with your son.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Lockhart.”
He inches closer and lifts a lock of my hair, rubbing it between two fingers. I swear, even though I know it’s not possible to feel his touch on the ends of my hair, I feel it all the way to my toes.
I step back. He steps forward. I take another step back. We continue this dance until my back hits the wall, and I have no place else to go.
My heart is beating wildly. My mind races back to the kiss we shared at the school. The incredible kiss that made it possible for me to be in a
place that gave me one of the worst memories of my life.
His face is mere inches from mine. “What are you afraid of, Emma?”
“Everything,” I manage to get out before his lips collide with mine.
He presses me against the wall as he kisses me. His lips are strong and demanding. Mine betray me as they open for his tongue. He frames my face before moving his hands down my arms and around my waist.
I will my arms to stay at my side, feigning no interest in what’s happening. But the heat rising in me wins the battle and my arms snake around his neck. He moans into my mouth when my fingers thread through his hair.
He leans into me, and I feel his erection. My hips involuntarily press against his, increasing the friction between us.
“Jesus, Emma,” he murmurs when his lips pull away from mine to find my neck.
I stretch my head back and let him explore the area. “Oh, God,” escapes me when he sucks on a sensitive place under my ear.
I feel his smile against my skin as he doubles his efforts.
His hand finds its way under my shirt, and his strong fingers tease my side as they travel upward. He wastes no time fumbling with my bra but simply pushes it up and cups my breast in his palm. His other hand follows a similar path until he’s holding both breasts.
I remove my hands from him just long enough to hurriedly pull my shirt and bra over my head. He’s instantly back, kissing my neck and fondling my breasts and grinding his erection into me all at the same time. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, his fingers lightly pinch my nipples and I find myself exhaling his name.
“Where’s your bedroom, Emma?” he whispers into my ear.
“Up,” is all I can manage to say.
He lifts me off the ground, and I wrap my legs around his waist, not losing contact between me and his erection. He only stops kissing me to make sure we don’t fall as he carries me up the stairs.
“On the left,” I say, hoping I didn’t leave any dirty clothes on the floor this morning. Not that I really care at this point. And not that he’d notice.
He lays me down on the bed and crawls on top of me, maintaining contact with my skin. It’s almost as if he knows if he gives me time to think about this, I’ll stop. I should stop.
But before I can push him away, his mouth is on my breast. Then his tongue is on my nipple. Wet heat floods through me, and I buck my hips into him.
He sucks and licks and teases my nipple as his finger traces a line under the waistband of my jeans. I play with his hair again, pressing his head to my chest. Then my hands travel down the back of his shirt. Needing to feel his skin, I lift his shirt and explore the taut muscles of his back.
He breaks the seal on my breast, sitting up and straddling me as he removes his shirt. We’re both naked from the waist up. And we stare at each other unabashedly.
He’s gorgeous. His tattoos travel all the way up his arm and over the top part of his left shoulder and chest. Oh my.
“You’re beautiful, Emma,” he says, grinding into me. He grasps the button of my pants. “I’d very much like to see the rest of you.”
I close my eyes and bite my lower lip. I should stop.
His weight shifts off me and I feel his breath on my ear. “Don’t overthink this,” he whispers as he unbuttons my pants and slips a hand beneath my panties. He groans when his finger glides through my wetness. “Christ, I want you.”
His words bounce around in my head. He wants me. It’s not like I haven’t been with men before. I have. As recently as a month ago. But no one has made me feel like this. And none of them have said those words to me. Is it the words, I wonder, or is it Brett?
I rub his erection through his jeans as he slips a finger inside me. As we manipulate each other, I feel the coils tightening in my belly.
The sense of loss I feel when he pulls his hand away is almost laughable. I think a whine may have escaped my mouth, and he chuckles as he quickly removes our shoes and the rest of our clothing.
The sun shines through the window as we lie gloriously naked next to each other. He caresses the curve of my hip as his eyes drink me in. He only utters a single word after his visual assault of my body.
“Wow.”
His penis stands at full attention. I reach out and run my fingers along the shaft, teasing him before wrapping my hand around him. He inhales sharply. He’s trying to control his breathing, and I wonder if he’s trying not to come. I’ve only had my hand on him for ten seconds, but I feel as though he might. How long has it been since he was with a woman?
He bites his lip and makes a noise. “Not yet,” he says, pushing my hand away before crawling down my body until his mouth is between my legs.
Now I’m the one biting my lip and making noises. Oh my God.
His tongue is on my clit, circling it before sucking it into his mouth. His fingers work inside me until they find that one spot that has me moaning in pleasure.
He lifts his head briefly. “That’s it, Emma. I’m going to make you come. Jesus, you taste good.”
Nobody’s ever told me they are going to make me come. He’s watching me. I’m watching him. Right here in the daylight, naked in my bed, I’m watching him go down on me. I’ve never seen anything so erotic.
When it gets so intense that I can’t watch anymore, my head falls back against the pillow and I grab the sheets, fisting them as he takes me higher and higher.
He moves one of my legs to the side, holding it there. I can’t tighten my thighs around him, and it heightens the pleasure. I’m wound so tightly, I’m going to explode. And then I do.
“Oh, Brett!” I shout as my orgasm crashes down around me. I spasm as he works to draw out every last quiver.
I blow out a few deep breaths and then open my eyes. He’s smiling at me with shimmering lips.
“Top drawer,” I say breathily.
He reaches over and grabs a condom. He quickly sheathes himself, and before I have time to recover from my climax, he’s pushing inside me.
“Damn, this feels good,” he says, starting out slowly, then increasing his pace.
He pulls out, teasing my entrance with the head of his penis before pushing back in. He does this over and over until I find myself building back up.
“I’m going to make you come again, Emma,” he whispers into my ear. “If you could have seen the look on your face when you came, you’d know why. You’re incredible.”
He pushes in and out again, removing himself completely until I reach around and grab his ass and push him back in.
“That’s it,” he says, picking up the pace. “You feel so good. Your walls are so tight around me. You’re going to make me come, too.”
He reaches between us and rubs my clit. His words, his thrusts, his manipulation—they all come together, and my insides tighten again before I detonate around him.
“Emma!” he shouts, his climax gripping him.
He collapses on me, both of us breathing heavily. He rolls off to one side, gazing at me with his alluring green eyes. We stay like this for a long time, just looking at each other. Maybe we’re trying to wrap our heads around what just happened. Maybe we’re not sure what to say now that it’s over.
“That was …” He tries to find the words but can’t. “You have to go to dinner with me now.”
“I told you I don’t date firemen.”
“Even after—”
My heart races when I look at the clock. “Oh my God! Is that the time?” I shoot up in bed. “Shit, Brett. You have to go.” I hop out and get my robe off the hook on the door. I gather his clothes and throw them on the bed. He looks at me like I’ve gone mad.
“I’m serious. You have to go now,” I say, pulling a fresh pair of panties out of my dresser. “It’s Friday. Evelyn only has a half-day, and my mother volunteered to bring her home so we could all have lunch together.”
He glances at the time. It’s eleven-thirty. He sits on the edge of the bed, removing the condom before pulling on his b
oxer briefs.
“Faster,” I say, pacing the room, worried they could be home at any second.
“Slow down, Emma. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I’ll never be able to explain this,” I say, thinking of Mom’s reaction to my having a man over in the middle of the day. “I’ll never hear the end of it. Please, Brett, can you hurry?”
He laughs as he finishes putting on his shoes. “I suppose you want me to go out the back and sneak through the yard, too.”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” I look at the clock again.
He shakes his head and chuckles. “I was kidding.”
“Please?” I beg and give him a push toward the stairs.
“Fine. But just so you know, I was seventeen the last time I had to sneak out of a girl’s house.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, hurrying him down.
As we pass the front door, I glance out the sidelight to make sure they aren’t walking up. I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief when Evelyn hops up on the first step.
Panic rises within me. “They’re here.” I pick up my shirt and bra from the floor and point to the back door. “Go now. Fast. Let yourself out.”
He starts toward the back door but turns around briefly. “See you Monday, Miss Lockhart.”
“Brett, please.”
He laughs, runs to the back door, and gives me a wink before ducking through it.
I barely make it back up the stairs before Mom and Evelyn come in. I throw my clothes on and check my makeup in the mirror. Then I go down to greet them.
Mom stands at the door, staring at the damage. “What happened here?” She looks at me and her eyebrows shoot up. “More importantly, what happened to you?”
Damn it. How does she always do that? It’s like she has a sixth sense or something.
In my experience honesty is usually the best way to go. I tell them the story. Some of it anyway.
“There was a snake,” I say, going into the kitchen for a much-needed glass of water.
As I pass the back door, I think of the man who just went through it. Tingles shoot through me as I think of his whispered words in my ear.
Chapter Seventeen
The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 68
