Her Sexy Challenge (Firefighters of Station 1)

by Ballance, Sarah

  Her eyes grew wide with alarm. Or maybe it was the same fear he felt, growing and churning and having nothing to do with the distance between his feet and the earth several floors below.

  “It’s like having a beautiful woman in your arms,” he said, ignoring a veritable explosion of second thoughts, to say nothing of whatever she must be thinking. Whatever it was didn’t matter. He had her, and he had no intention of letting go. “Thinking you want to kiss her. Not really wanting her to push you off a roof.”

  “Is that your abstract analogy?”

  “It’s not entirely abstract,” he admitted.

  Caitlin pursed her lips, then softly said, “She doesn’t completely want to push you off the roof.”

  It was a good thing he was half sitting, or he’d have fallen over. “Damn good thing,” he whispered, right before he dipped his head and kissed her. He hadn’t intended to take it too far, but when she softened against him, he was screwed. Fingers threading her hair, hand cupping the back of her head, drawing her in, needing her for his next breath screwed.

  What the fuck.

  He should have seen it coming from a mile away. He hadn’t been able to shake the first kiss, despite his attempts to convince himself it was a fluke. Hell, first kisses were supposed to be memorable.

  Second kisses weren’t supposed obliterate them. And they weren’t supposed to make him wonder why he’d ever stop kissing her to go to Denver.

  Panicking, he broke it off, just barely aware of the awkward timing of having just deepened the kiss before abandoning it.

  Caitlin stared at him, flushed. Sexy. Her lips were swollen, her glasses askew. He felt like hell over it, but he needed to get out of there. Keeping her off-balance was one thing. Losing his own equilibrium was another.

  “We should probably go back downstairs,” he finally said. “If I’m going to accidentally trigger an alarm and drag a security guard back out here, it’d better be before he gets in bed.”

  “Oh,” she said. The hurt in her eyes felt like splinters gouging at raw skin, but he needed the ground under his feet.

  Just not at her expense. “You did it, you know.”

  He’d have given anything for criticism number five right then, but she didn’t throw any jabs.

  She didn’t say anything at all.

  He felt bad, but she’d scared the hell out of him. His desire to fall into her was scarier than any twelve-story drop could ever be, and he hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d hurt her.

  And he had no idea what to do about his fucked-up desire to fix something that needed to stay broken.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caitlin had to give Shane all the credit in the world. She’d completely forgotten about the hundred and twenty-ish feet that stood between her and solid ground, or how much of a bad idea he was. And that he was leaving.

  She’d never been kissed like that. Not at her front door, and certainly not on a roof.

  Nor had she ever run a guy off so quickly.

  One minute she was about to melt right into the rooftop, and the next, the air had gone cold without him. He’d gone from soft touch and a kiss that was as gentle as it was lethal to throwing stuff back in the basket and heading for the elevator, sparing only one backward glance to make sure she followed.

  She managed to keep her mouth shut until the elevator door slid closed, until panic began to well and any distraction was better than none at all.

  “Did I stab you in the eye with my glasses or something?”

  He glanced at her, muttered something that sounded an awful lot like fuck, and smacked his hand against the emergency stop button.

  The elevator lurched to a standstill.

  She clutched the railing that lined the wall. “This is not funny.”

  “You’re goddamn right it’s not,” he said. “You’ve crossed a bridge, stood on top of the tallest building in Dry Rock, and you’ve ridden in an elevator. Twice. But this thing between us? We’re both dodging it.”

  “I’m not the one who walked away up there,” she said. But hadn’t she been relieved when he had? He was as good as gone, and she couldn’t seem to grasp that. The last thing she needed was to drown in this man.

  Or maybe that was exactly what she did need.

  He stood still, watching her, completely unfettered that she’d called him out for walking away. But he’d stopped the elevator.

  Let him walk now.

  She took a shaky step—damn her inability to do that without quaking—and grabbed him, hauling him down and claiming his mouth with hers.

  He hesitated for the barest of seconds before muttering an oath with her name behind it and diving in. Hot, hard, against the wall, driving deep whatever they’d just dodged on the roof.

  When they came up for air, she feared it was over, but he touched her again, gently this time, but no less thorough. She’d always heard of drowning in kisses, but had never imagined how adequate the description. The space between them was hot, stormy, his teeth nipping, his tongue coaxing shivers and lust from every corner of her body. The wall at her back couldn’t have been harder than the man who’d captured her.

  The sweetness of the wine lingered, but it wasn’t what dizzied her. Clutching his hair, feeling his groan rumble through her, the moment he lifted and held her against the wall…yeah, heights had nothing on that. She’d kill for heights like this.

  If she’d known this could happen in an elevator, she’d have lived in one of the damned things.

  Shane abandoned her mouth long enough to kiss her neck and murmur into her ear, “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to stop,” she told him, her voice trembling with every slam of her heart against her chest. “But this isn’t my typical protocol for a first date.”

  He looked to her breast, where he traced her straining nipple through her dress, then back at her face.

  She’d never seen so much in one expression. So much…not holding back. Like she’d just unleashed something, and every part of her begged to be swept away with it.

  And she’d never felt so much as she did when his gaze tripped over hers and the moment lingered, on the cusp of something big, before he spoke so softly, lips grazing the corner of her mouth when he said, “Then it’s a damn good thing this isn’t a date, isn’t it?”

  …

  Shane had never ached like this. His balls were probably bluer than the depths of the Pacific, and that was despite her telling him to keep going. It didn’t make sense. He was hardly deprived, but he wanted this woman like he’d never wanted anyone.

  And her green-lighting him only made him want her more.

  There went the theory of the chase.

  He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. He coveted that damned thing, despite its insistence of throwing insults and giving him a hard time. He devoured her, sweet and soft, tasting the hunger, throbbing, needing. Her kisses met his, tentative when he pulled back, consuming when he let go.

  He lifted her away from the wall long enough to slide his hands along the bare skin of her legs, past her hips, higher. Hot skin on hot skin, he swore he felt her heat through his pants.

  He hurt.

  His dick clamored to be set free, but he kept it in his pants. If he didn’t, he was going to end up balls deep, shaking the car until even he thought it might take a multi-story plunge. And really, he’d rather be able to take his time, to worship his way through every slick part and fold.

  She was going to kill him.

  “Tell me to stop,” he practically begged. It was the only chance he had of saving himself. But she dug her nails against his skull as he bit down on her breast through the dress. He wanted the garment gone, nothing between them but heat, but he couldn’t just fuck her in an elevator.

  “No.”

  Her simple reply undid him, though a touch of his own incredulity edged through the haze of sexual inebriation. “You’re actually refusing to cooperate with stopping me?” he managed.

&nb
sp; “You started the fire, Lieutenant,” she said, all breathy and sexy. “I’m pretty sure it’s your civic duty to put it out.”

  Put it out, hell. This was starting something. Something he wasn’t sure he could handle, but if he was going down, he was going down hard.

  Literally.

  He let her go again, which earned an expression of near fury until he yanked the dress over her head.

  “You’re lucky there wasn’t a zipper,” she gasped, which was as close to a grudging admission that he’d had a good idea as he’d ever get from her. “I could have died.”

  “I looked ahead of time,” he told her, right before he unhooked her bra and dropped his head to one hard nipple.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, throwing back her head. “Oh God. There’s a camera in here, isn’t there.”

  “Where?” He didn’t actually care, but he knew he should. He didn’t need the footage getting back to the chief or anyone else he knew.

  “In the corner. It’s camera shaped.”

  He laughed at her blunt description, then tossed her bra over the lens. “Better?” Without waiting for an answer, he dropped to his knees and with one hand on each hip, inched down her panties.

  “Why am I the only one without clothes?”

  “We’re addressing your fears, not mine.” He spread her center with his thumbs and wasted approximately zero seconds in thought before sucking her into his mouth. No foreplay there. Straight to the clit.

  Her grip tightened like a snapped rubber band, leaving him utterly convinced she’d ripped out hair by the handful.

  He didn’t care.

  He rasped his tongue across the swollen bud, relenting only to drive deep inside her while she squirmed against him. He listened to the sounds she made, taking notes, switching gears between sucking and licking, plunging and biting, keeping her from catching her breath, hiding his own dizziness.

  He widened her stance, trying to spread her legs farther, but she’d only managed to kick off one leg of her underwear. Easy enough to fix. He slid a pair of fingers inside, curving them until he found the spot that made her knees buckle. The way she breathed his name made him want to hear it across crisp sheets, elevator be damned, but he wouldn’t trade this now, her legs opened wide for him, sounds of wanting him on her lips. He found her clit with his tongue, then captured the swollen bundle of nerves with his teeth while the naughty librarian uttered words that would make a sailor blush.

  So she had a wild side.

  Good. To. Know.

  She trembled in his hands, on his mouth, undeniably close to an edge.

  He licked long and hard.

  She climbed the wall behind her, pulling him in for the ride. He didn’t relent, probably couldn’t if he tried, with the grip she’d managed despite his short hair, but wouldn’t have missed it for anything. The look in her eyes when they focused unsteadily on his left him shaken, not necessarily in a good way. It was a way that shouldn’t happen between people moving so quickly in different directions, but he coveted the intense haze of the connection.

  He didn’t know how he’d ever forget it.

  He didn’t know that he’d want to.

  And he didn’t want her to, either. Fingertips teasing her inner thighs, his mouth alive with the taste of her, he drove his tongue deeper, sucking and barely holding on when she shattered and damn near took him down with her.

  Her body shook. He let her slide down the wall to land on his lap. Agony. He dragged his tongue across her nipple, loving the fullness. The fucking intimacy. When she jerked in surprise, he bit down. She touched the back of his head, forcing him closer, and he wondered if she was still coming down or if he was on the verge of riling her again. Even from his vantage point, it had been a hell of ride—one his dick would never forgive him for sitting out.

  Regret edged over common sense and decency, blowing it out of the water when she moaned and arched against him. “You have no idea how good that feels,” she said in a low, sexy voice. Her glasses were almost sideways, so he nudged them back in place and licked the other nipple.

  She glanced down. “We totally left you hanging, didn’t we?”

  He groaned. “I can assure you, there’s no hanging.”

  She reached for his zipper. “Not fair to you.”

  He placed a hand on her arm. “Sweetheart, I want you more than you can imagine, but I need this to be about you.” He didn’t need to forge more of a connection than he already felt, and while he was content for her to associate elevators with sex, he’d do well to spare himself a similar connotation.

  “So this is where it ends? I’m naked in an elevator and you’re not even missing a button?”

  “You have shoes,” he managed, adjusting himself when she moved off of him to grab her clothes. “Not naked.”

  She shot him a dirty look, then reached for her bra and missed. She jumped for it the second time and caught the edge, flinging it toward the ceiling before it fell.

  He couldn’t help but smile. God, she was beautiful. He entertained second thoughts about where he’d have her, and suddenly against the wall of an elevator was right at the top of his list.

  But he didn’t get the chance to reconsider, because she chose this of all times not to argue. Instead, she stuffed her underwear in her bag and pulled the dress over her head, leaving him all too aware of what was—or rather, was not—under the fabric.

  And wanting.

  Wanting something Denver couldn’t possibly offer.

  He’d yet to draw to his feet, and she’d already hit the button, sending the elevator back into motion. “We’re going to have to make a stop on the way back to my place,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “A way to help me live with that memory once you’re gone,” she said, and not a word more until the door slid open on the ground floor, when she literally stepped over him to leave the elevator, wine bottle in hand.

  He sat there way too long, wondering how the fuck he was supposed to do that, when she threw an addendum his way.

  “I’m going to need some batteries.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  So much for being afraid of heights.

  Caitlin was about a million miles above earth, her old grounded self a mere pinprick in the distance.

  Dizzy was an understatement.

  Breathing into a paper bag seemed like a plan right about then.

  But there was no paper bag. There was Shane, a stalled-out elevator, and the best orgasm of her life zinging through her body like he’d tied her up with a live wire and teased her to delicious agony.

  If the memory of that night was going to have to sustain her, she’d need a whole crate of batteries.

  Refilled monthly.

  She didn’t think he’d actually heed her request, so when he steered into a drug store parking lot she had to fight the urge to crawl under the floor mat. “Um, thank you, but I’m not going to put my underwear on in a parking lot to go in there.”

  “You’re not going to have to,” he said, right before he hopped out of the truck, a bit less agile than usual. That last part left her with a smile, but also teeming with guilt. She should have insisted on taking care of him, but the sincerity in his eyes when he said he wanted it to be about her had stopped her.

  He returned within minutes and tossed what had to be a twenty-pound bag on the seat between them. “I’m just going to tell myself the need for these isn’t due to a lack of satisfaction on your part,” he muttered as he adjusted himself.

  She gawked at his lap, then flushed hot when she realized he watched her. “How many…battery operated devices do you think I own?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure I would have guessed any, at least not before I knew you were running a sex library.” He threw her a cocky grin while she died inside. “To answer the question I think you’re asking, you didn’t specify what kind you needed.”

  She dug through the bag and pulled out a card. “Shane, these are hearing aid batte
ries.”

  He clicked his seatbelt in place and backed out of the spot. “Do I look like I know what kind of batteries a vibrator takes?”

  She held up another package. “Do I look like someone who would go through thirty-six double AAs?”

  “Have you ever checked the unit price on those things? Much cheaper to get the bigger packs.”

  Speechless, she leaned back against the seat and ticked off a list of what she’d just learned about him: he paid attention to unit prices and bought name brand batteries. And no condoms, which meant—contrary to the accusation she’d levied earlier—he hadn’t made any assumptions on the rest of the night.

  She wished she could appreciate that more.

  Back at her house, he walked her to the door. Light from the porch fixture threw shadows, darkening a hint of stubble on his jaw. It would be gone with his next shift, she was sure, but in the meantime, the hint of badassery made her knees weak.

  He hesitated.

  She stood without even digging for her keys, because she had no idea what would come next. Should she invite him in? Was he hoping she wouldn’t? He had just given her a year’s supply of batteries…well, other than the Cs. And he hadn’t bought any condoms, so surely he wasn’t planning anything. But if that was the case, why wasn’t he going away?

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” he asked, breaking the long silence with something way worse.

  She didn’t need to confess to wanting him. Heat tore through her, turning her into a neon-pink billboard of want. Anxiety left her chewing on her lip and quite possibly breaking a sweat.

  Sexy.

  She pushed up her glasses, then wondered why she had any desire to see better. A cock-eyed version of the world was probably preferable. Only that poor word choice hadn’t helped.

  Her gaze crept to his. With any luck he’d think her ridiculous and flee. She could go on about her life, trying like crazy not to get stuck on any bridges or start any fires on his shift until what was left of those two weeks were up. Then life would be normal.