Blaze

by Joan Swan

  “ ’Bout two years.”

  “How did I miss that last night?” he murmured, his thumb skimming across the little gem and her warm, supple belly. “I was right there.”

  Her muscles tightened, and she shifted out of reach. “Preoccupied, I guess.”

  “No shit.” Just the thought of how close they’d been to making love was sending him back to that preoccupied state. And his body responded just as quick. “I like it.”

  The steady comb-and-snip motion of her hands faltered. “Thanks.”

  “Sexy. Really freaking sexy.”

  “Luke,” she warned again.

  “Does Mitch know about it? About the tattoo?”

  “You know he’s just messing with you, right? You know there’s nothing between us. He’s like my . . .”

  The word brother hung heavy in the air.

  Backfire. He’d take the perfect opening to talk about the things she’d kept from him in the past.

  “Tell me about him.” He wasn’t about to live with that elephant in the room. They already weren’t talking about the gorilla swinging on the lamp or the giraffe chewing ficus leaves by the fireplace. “Your brother.”

  She groaned. “I don’t—”

  “What was his name?”

  She hesitated. Sighed. “Cash. His name was Cash.”

  “Cash and Keira. That’s cute.”

  “I guess.” She picked up the water bottle and resprayed his hair. “Though our life wasn’t the least bit cute.”

  It seemed so odd now how little he knew of Keira’s childhood. Yes, they’d been coworkers, friends. Lovers. But that had been during a beautiful time in their lives when the past didn’t matter and their futures were light-years away.

  A time when they lived in the excitement of the moment. When their companions were the fellow firefighters they loved and admired, their jobs exciting and rewarding and downright freaking fun, their off-duty hours spent at pubs, family barbecues, and inter-agency softball tournaments.

  Once Keira and Luke got together, they’d spent their days putting out flames in the field and their nights lighting them up in the bedroom. It had been a perfect life. One Luke had started to believe would last until death did they part.

  The warehouse fire changed everything.

  Now, he wanted to know the woman he should have known back then, who she’d become in the years they’d been apart, and who she’d been before he’d met her.

  The tunnel, her thoughts, and fears filled his mind again. But he’d be lucky to get her to stick to the subject of her brother tonight. He had a feeling they’d be taking baby steps fleshing out her past.

  “Turn around,” she said. “Look up at me.”

  He turned on the chair and tilted his head back. Her fingers skimmed through his hair, testing the length. Not yet satisfied, she started combing and snipping again.

  “How did the fire start?” Luke asked, watching those perfect, unbound breasts jiggle beneath the thin cotton top, nipples tight.

  She moved to his right, leaned in, her belly pressing his upper arm. All his attention slid in that direction. “Stupid. Little kitchen fire.”

  A little kitchen fire didn’t kill people. Luke looked up. When she didn’t meet his gaze, he stilled her hands with his. “What happened?”

  She waved the comb in frustration and broke from his grasp. “It caught. Blew up. I got out; my brother didn’t. End of story.”

  Luke knew Keira hadn’t known her father. Remembered she had once said she doubted her mother had even known her father. But then changed the subject and veered away from it every time it came up again. “What about your mother?”

  “She got out, too,” she muttered with a clear piece-of-shit tone. “Unfortunately.”

  “But I thought you told me she was dead.”

  “She is. Points for God on that score. She died in prison.”

  “Prison?” The word came out with candid shock.

  Keira laughed, the sound dry and harsh. “Not so sorry you got rid of me now, are you?”

  He ignored her jibe. “Why was she in prison?”

  “Because her drunken temper turned that tiny fire into an inferno, burned down the house, and killed my brother. I have no doubt she’s rotting in hell, right where she belongs.”

  The air rushed out of Luke’s lungs. With that kind of baggage, it was no wonder Keira had mother issues.

  I cared about Kat. I tried to be what she needed . . . I tried to be what you needed . . .

  Keira’s words spiked through his heart. Luke could imagine how Keira had internalized Kat’s inconsolable grief at losing both her mother and Teague. Blamed it on her lack of maternal skills or genes or whatever, although she never once complained, never once pushed Kat away, never once confessed her fears. And Luke had been oblivious.

  He never considered the toll it might have taken on Keira. Not until long after she’d gone. But now, knowing about her childhood, feeling her abilities firsthand, his appreciation for her torment was that much sharper. His guilt that much keener.

  Imagine going into a burning building, being able to hear people crying for help upstairs, but only in your head. How would you convince your chief you had to get up there without telling him you were hearing voices? How would you live with yourself if you were allowed to go, but the fire was impassible and you had to listen to them burn to death?

  Her words to him in one of their last and most volatile arguments surrounding the subject of her quitting firefighting and taking the FBI job replayed in his head. She’d been trying so hard to explain. He just hadn’t heard her.

  He was damn well going to listen this time.

  “He was only fifteen when the fire started?” Luke asked, now with a million questions running through his head.

  She nodded.

  “Big age difference between you two.”

  “We were accidents with different fathers. Good-for-nothing losers. Our mother never missed an opportunity to tell us that. And we both looked like her, which really pissed her off.” She set the scissors down on the desk behind her. Standing directly in front of him, Keira made one more pass at his hair, sliding both hands through, then stepped back. “You’re done.”

  Luke caught her waist before she was out of reach and pulled her between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her hips, rested his chin on her belly, and looked up at her. “I guess that’s one good thing you got out of the deal. Those dark Irish good looks.”

  Her fingers flitted through his hair, a little frown on her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, Ransom. But, I’m beginning to think that haircut wasn’t such a good idea.”

  A slow smile drifted over his mouth. She’d always preferred his hair short. Said it showed off his eyes, the angles of his face. Said just looking at him made her hot.

  He spread his hands over the curve of her spine and tucked his fingers underneath her tank, sliding them up her back. “Appreciating your work, O’Shay?”

  Her frown turned and a soft, almost self-deprecating grin lit her face. The first sight of those pretty white teeth in . . . he didn’t know how long, just that it had been way too long.

  “Appreciating the canvas.” But as quickly as it appeared, her smile drifted away. “What happened to us, Luke?”

  His own smile died, but the fact that she’d asked after everything that had happened sparked hope. He reached up and ran his thumb over her soft cheek and that fringe of freckles.

  “What didn’t happen, baby? We went from utopia to hell in one night. Somebody we loved died. We all nearly died. We spent months recovering physically, years recovering mentally. Our lives changed forever. We changed forever.”

  Keira squeezed her eyes shut and nodded against his hand. “I miss those early days. I miss you. Us. How good it used to be.” Tears crept over her bottom lashes. “I miss the life we had, all the possibilities before everything changed. God, how I miss it.”

  “Oh, baby.” Her confession ripped at his heart. He loc
ked his arms around her hips and pulled her onto his lap. Her legs parted easily to straddle him, her arms circled his neck, and she pressed her forehead to his. “We’re together now. Things may be different, but they could be better.”

  She opened her eyes, her blue irises glimmering with wetness, searching his with a mixture of hope and fear, yearning for . . . something.

  He slid both hands into her hair and held her gaze. “Trust me.”

  TWELVE

  When it came to her heart, Keira couldn’t truly say she trusted anyone. Not even herself.

  But then he kissed her. Slid his hands deep into her hair, pulled her face to his, and tasted her lips, again and again until she couldn’t keep from responding.

  Just like the last time they were together, something happened between them. Something different, even better than three years before, which she hadn’t believed possible. But their new abilities connected them on a higher, more intimate level. Just as his ability to fend off fire and bullets had become stronger and her ability to hear thoughts and voices had expanded, their sexual chemistry had intensified.

  Now, Luke’s entire essence flowed through his body and burned in his kiss. He infused her with his passion, not just adding to her own, but doubling, tripling, quadrupling the desire between them.

  She kissed him back, skimming her fingers over his freshly cut hair, pulling his mouth deeper, pushing her tongue past his lips and seeking his. Luke groaned long and deep, and a spike of heat and satisfaction drilled to her core. Then he pulled back, holding her face steadfast, looking into her eyes with something that almost resembled pain.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders, down the hard muscle of his sides, his belly, and covered the generous package between his legs. He was as hot as he was hard, and an urgent need pulsed deep inside her.

  Luke sucked air. “Keira. God. I’ve missed you.”

  He lifted his hips, rocking into her. Raw pleasure flooded her body. She wanted him inside her, filling her, completing her like no one else ever had, ever could.

  She scraped her nails under his T-shirt and up the soft skin and hard muscle of his torso, pushing the fabric out of the way.

  Luke growled, skimming his hands down her back, gripping her hips. “Keira, you’re killing me.”

  “I’d love to make sure you die happy.” She kissed him deeply with an erotic play of her tongue, scooted back, and searched for the button of his jeans. She would take him right there. Straddling him in the chair. Shedding only enough clothing to get him inside her. That’s all she needed right now. The long, hard, hot length of him burning inside. She’d take more later. But now, she couldn’t wait.

  Anticipation dried her mouth. Her fingers fumbled with his zipper, her mind already on all that silky heat in her hands.

  But his fingers closed around hers. Tightened. He pressed his cheek against hers, his breath hot and whispered, “No.”

  “No?” Dazed, she pulled back to look into his eyes. All she found was a mirror of frustration and need. “No what?”

  His pained, humorless chuckle transitioned into a moan. He kept his eyes downcast. His cheeks tinged pink—a rare sight that hit Keira’s chest with an unfamiliar apprehension.

  “No condoms. Remember?”

  Grudgingly, yeah, she remembered, with enough frustration to scream. Which brought up a question she’d been wondering about since the safe house incident. “Why aren’t you carrying at least one?” As soon as she voiced the question, a sickening thought popped to mind. “Lucas Ransom. You told me you weren’t seeing anyone.”

  His head jerked up, a look of shock on his face. “I’m not.”

  “Then what is this? If you tell me you took some bizarre, New-Age oath of celibacy I’m going to kill you here and now.”

  “That’s not what I intended, but . . .” He grinned, but it disappeared quickly. “I’m sorry, baby. I can’t even tell you how sorry, but I don’t carry condoms because I never need any.” The quirk of his mouth showed a heavy dose of nerves. He cleared his throat, dropped his gaze to her chest. “I never need any, because . . . well, like I told you last night . . . it’s been a long time.”

  A zing of shock burned along her sternum. “I . . . I thought you meant . . . us.”

  “I know. Didn’t see the point in . . .” He shrugged. Beneath her, his knee started to bounce. His fingers dug into the flesh at her waist and released. He darted a nervous glance from beneath his brows, then looked away again. And when Keira opened herself to deeper sensations, a dark lightning cloud settled over Luke, filled with angst.

  She tried to wrap her mind around his admittance, battling her own emotions. “Why?”

  He heaved a breath, seemed to shore himself up, and looked directly into her eyes. “The short story is: you. Because I got tired of trying to fill your place only to be disappointed. Because nobody else was you. Because I always just wanted you.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, heart tearing. She cupped his face, touched by the flush along his cheekbones, by the way his gaze lost its strength to hold hers once the admission had been made. “Why didn’t you ever . . . God, you never even . . . A phone call? An e-mail? I was only two hours away; you could have come to see me. Christ, Luke, did you expect me to read your mind?”

  “I don’t know what I expected.” His eyes closed for a second as he shook his head. “I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Thought I had gone a little . . . I don’t know . . . crazy.” His hands slid up her sides, over her shoulders, and clasped the back of her head, pulling her in and pressing his forehead to hers. “But it all makes sense now. I couldn’t be with anyone else anymore because my head and my body had figured out what my heart had always known. It’s always been you for me. Only you.”

  Her heart pounded, afraid to believe. There were still unresolved issues between them. Big ones. But when he tilted his head and touched his lips to hers, she found strength and security in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue drifted in and sought hers, and her passion exploded. She tightened her arms, arched her back, tilted her head, and devoured him with his words floating through her head.

  Only you. Only you, baby.

  Luke responded with the same hunger, his tongue hot, lips relentless, fingers digging into her back as he smashed her chest against his.

  She broke the kiss, fisting her hands in his T-shirt. “God, I want you.”

  Luke’s mouth dropped to her neck, his teeth adding an exciting pinch to the passion. One hand came around, slid between their bodies, and palmed her breast. Pleasure filled her, made her restless. She rocked her hips against his, and he groaned against her skin. Found her nipple. Rolled it between his fingers. Keira whimpered, scraped her fingers along his scalp. He pinched, and need tugged deep inside her.

  “Goddammit, Luke,” she growled. “I want you inside me.” She dropped her hands to the generous swell beneath his jeans and rubbed.

  Luke’s head came back, lids dropped halfway, his lips parted on a low moan. “Ah, Christ.” He grabbed her hands and pulled them away from what Keira wanted most. “Baby, I want that, too. Wish I could give it to you right now, but there’s plenty of time. I’ll go to the store in a few hours.”

  “Not soon enough. You know by then everyone’s going to be awake. Alyssa and Mitch sniping at each other. Kids running all over the place.”

  “Thia. ”

  Keira startled at Mateo’s voice. She pushed off Luke’s chest and turned. The boy stood behind her, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

  “Crap, that scared me.” So much for finding any relief for this nagging three-year-old ache. “Right on cue. Guess we have to wait anyway.”

  She reluctantly slid off Luke’s lap and lifted the boy, who now had both arms held out to her. Luke remained in the chair, shoulders slumped, huge hard-on filling his jeans, unfulfilled desire darkening his expression.

  Still, his mouth turned in a lopsided smile as he ran a hand over Mateo’s head where the boy nestled against Keira’s
shoulder and closed his eyes. “Kinda reminds me of when we first got Kat.”

  Oh, yes. The end of spontaneous, hot, crazy sex as they knew it, which was the least of their painful moments. Far worse were all the blind parenting attempts, all the sleepless nights, the tears, the angst and pain, and ultimately, the failure—of everything.

  There was a mood killer.

  Keira pushed the memories back. She wanted to hold on to the faint shine of hope Luke had polished in her heart.

  “Let’s lie down.” Luke pushed to his feet and nudged her toward the couch with a warm hand at the base of her spine and a sexy smile. “Get a little sleep before I venture out to the store. You’re gonna need it.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He lay on his side and scooted back, lifting his arms in invitation. Keira faced him, transferring Mateo’s weight to the cushions between them. Peering at Luke over a child’s curls did feel familiar, but in a bittersweet, anxious sort of way.

  The past is the past. Let it go.

  His brows dipped between heavy lidded eyes. “You okay?”

  Better watch those thoughts. “Unsettled.”

  He gave her a sleepy smile, reached over Mateo, and ran a hand over her head. A sweet, familiar gesture that swept her back in time. The mixed memories had her brain sloshing from one emotion to another, a ship on rough seas.

  “What are you going to do about him?”

  “Hmm?” Luke’s question helped her refocus on the present. “What? About who?”

  “What do you mean who?” His mouth tipped as his eyes darted toward Mateo and back. “Him.”

  “Oh.” Keira looked down at Mateo’s face, so completely angelic in sleep, reminding her so much of Kat at his age. No two ways about it, that was a sweet thought. “I don’t know what you mean. He seems fine.”

  “I mean, if he’s truly an orphan. If he’s truly from Greece. If his life there was truly as dismal as Tony described.”

  Uh-oh. The drift of this conversation was not good. That sliver of light she’d experienced just moments ago faded.

  “I think it’s a little early to be deciding his fate, Luke. I’m sure Tony was lying about where he came from.”