Blaze (A Minxes of Romance anthology)

by Romy Sommer

  “Trust me,” the calm, deep voice replied.

  Something in the warm tone and the firm grip on her legs made her want to do exactly that. She felt she might do anything he asked.

  Anything at all.

  “You won't have to cover me in butter?” she gabbled, and then added, in case he thought she was a weirdo, “My sister got her hand stuck once and the fire-brigade put butter on her.”

  “Not unless you want me to.” There was a hint of amusement in his reply, a very brief flicker of a flirt. Or had she imagined it?

  Sexual desire shivered through her body. It had been a long time since anyone had made her feel like this and she didn't even know what Drew looked like. It was that deep, sexy voice...

  He must have really powerful pheromones if they were working on her through the thick Lakeland stone.

  “So, do you still use butter?” Polly said, desperate to put off the moment she gave squeezing down the shaft another go.

  “We've progressed to olive oil now. Fewer calories.”

  Funny as well as sexy, hmmm.

  “Very funny.” Despite herself, Polly smiled in the darkness. Although she felt her cheeks burn at the thought of him slathering her with oil, running those firm fingers over her body until she was slick and slippery in his arms.

  Come on Polly, get on with it.

  “I'll try again.” She lowered herself down, trying not to flinch as he grasped her thighs, taking her weight.

  “Okay, now take a deep breath in, all the way down to your diaphragm.”

  She obeyed.

  “Hold it, then slowly expel all the air from your lungs and pull your tummy in. Imagine George Clooney has just walked into the room. Now push down, I've got you.”

  Never mind George Clooney—Polly was pretty interested to see what Drew was like. Anyway, she couldn't imagine George getting himself sooty for her.

  She squeezed down, trusting him, but then her hips wedged against the stone and she panicked, tensing up. On scrambling up to rescue Tabitha, she hadn't given the narrowness of the chimney a moment's thought, had just responded to the thought of a poor rescue cat, frightened and starving up there.

  “Hey, relax.” Drew's voice sounded muffled.

  Polly forced herself to think about him, trying to trust him.

  But another insistent voice pressed in—I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck...

  “It's okay, I've got you.” The light squeeze he gave her legs was doubtless meant as a gesture of reassurance, but instead increased her agitation, setting her heart pounding.

  “Oh, right. Thanks, Enid, we'll give it a try.” Drew's voice was different now, more matter of fact and clipped.

  His breath was warm against her cold skin when he spoke again. “She's… um, brought some butter. You know, it would be a better idea than a chainsaw and might be less stressful if it helps you out faster...”

  “Just get me out of here and then lose whatever report you're supposed to file at the bottom of Coombethwaite Lake.”

  He laughed. “I'll see what I can do. Try to push back up a bit.”

  Polly squeezed back up through the hole an inch, and then felt a warm liquid feeling squirming in the pit of her stomach. It matched the soft butter Drew was sliding over her lower back. His hand slid over her thighs. At first in a methodical manner and then, gradually his strokes became rhythmic as he circled up into the shaft, studiously ignoring the elastic edge of her fancy knickers. He covered her lower hips and tried to coat the base of her spine without actually touching her bottom.

  The situation drove her mad. The more appropriate he tried to be, the more she wanted his fingers everywhere. Despite her panic and the ludicrous situation, she was growing wet between her legs and very, very turned on.

  “Okay?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “I'm just going to have to...”

  His fingers were on the elastic of her knickers and for one moment she wondered if he were going to insist she take those off too.

  In one expert movement he smeared butter over the fabric, so quickly she barely registered his touch.

  The unreality of the situation detached her from her normal inhibitions. With insides that had turned to jelly and cheeks burning fiercely, she fought to control the passion rippling through her body. At least he couldn't see the blush or imagine what was going through her mind right now. She would just have to emigrate once this was over. There was no other choice.

  “Okay,” Drew's tone was brisk. “Let's try again.”

  With no further warning he grasped her thighs and tugged smartly down, taking her breath away and giving her no time to panic.

  She collapsed in a messy, sooty heap against him and for a brief moment they lay tangled on the floor on Enid Cromaty's hearthrug.

  For the first time, she stared into the warm hazel brown eyes of her rescuer. They creased at the edges as he smiled and a vivid sense of connection winded her. She'd read about this kind of instant connection – le coup de foudre, a thunderbolt, but she’d never experienced it before now. He felt…familiar, like she’d known him forever.

  He blinked and then shifted away, pulling himself upright.

  Dimly Polly became aware of the fact she was sitting on the floor in only her underwear and a grimy covering of soot and butter. She crossed her arms over her chest, pulled her knees up to her body and stared resolutely at the floor. “Well this is awkward.”

  “Would you like to borrow this?” He took off his jacket and offered it to her. The t-shirt he wore revealed the rock hard muscles that had held her so effectively.

  “Thanks.” She wrapped it smartly around her, glad it came down to mid-thigh.

  This isn't a real intimacy, it's just an...odd situation. We’ve been thrown together.

  So why had it felt more natural to be almost naked with this man that it did now that she was covered up? Had they been thrown together or brought together?

  “I know you said you didn't mind but I'm sorry I've ruined your New Year's Eve.” Did he have a date waiting for him in some pub? She couldn't stop staring, mesmerised by the amber specks in his eyes, analysing his laughter lines and scars. She wanted to reach out and stroke the strong jaw-line, to be held in those arms...

  “I'm really not bothered about New Year’s Eve.” He shrugged.

  “Really? I thought it was a huge deal in the village, a pub crawl of the village's four pubs and then fireworks in the square? I heard some local bigwig puts on a huge display each year.” She carried on talking, not wanting the intimacy to end, needing far more.

  “That would be me actually.” He grimaced. “It's a tradition. My father always used to do it and so I carry it on.”

  “I think I was supposed to meet you tonight.”

  Drew’s eyes widened.

  Polly flushed. "No, not like that. I mean I was getting ready for the ball at the Coombethwaite hotel. I've just started at Morris and Marshall's and the partners said I needed to schmooze the local VIPs.”

  “Oh, the ball? I always get the invite but never go. Well not since...not for a long time.” Drew grimaced again.

  Polly wished she'd never mentioned it.

  “I prefer the atmosphere at the Rose and Crown or The King’s Head,” he said. “It’s more relaxed, more me.”

  He held her gaze and all the tense muscles in her body slowly relaxed. There was an unmistakable message in those eyes—he didn’t want tonight to end here either. There might be something to salvage from the ashes of the evening. Literally.

  “I'll be in trouble for not turning up. Great impression, eh?” To be fair, a part of her was glad she wasn't there. She'd much rather be here, with Drew. Although not looking such a state, obviously.

  “Well, you have met and schmoozed with me.” He grinned, quirking an eyebrow as her cheeks grew even hotter. “I'll drop in on Monday and tell them what a good impression you made.”

  “Um…thanks.”

  She startled at a crash from t
he kitchen, and stumbled to her feet. “I guess I'd better go next door and clean myself up so you can have your jacket back. I'm not sure there's any point going to the dinner now, they'll be on the coffees and I can't face explaining where I've been.”

  Chapter Four

  “Why not come to the King’s Head with me?” The words were out of Drew's mouth before he knew it. “I mean, you're new to the village, so it would be a shame if you missed the fireworks. You can't see New Year in on your own.”

  And if you go home I can't kiss you.

  He didn't want the evening to end here. It was the first New Year’s Eve since Rosa died that he actually wanted to share with anyone. He knew what it was like to be suddenly alone, be it by choice or by fate, and he didn't want to leave Polly alone in her cottage.

  Something almost magnetic drew him to her. Well, something besides the obviously stunning curves in all the right places.

  He swallowed hard, remembering running his fingers over her flesh. With luck, she hadn't guessed at the unprofessional thoughts galloping through his mind this evening. He'd done his best to keep things professional, although he could probably get away with not logging this. After all it had been a cat call-out and Enid, never understanding procedure, had rung Coombethwaite Manor instead of the fire station. She always called Drew, even when he wasn't on duty. He'd been the victim of his own success as a cat-whisperer.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to file a report at the fire station?” Polly’s eyes stared earnestly into his.

  “I can always tell them you were detained helping me rescue a cat. It is the truth after all. There's no need to publicise the...the other part.”

  “But what about Enid?” Polly whispered, hugging her arms around her, hope sparking in her blue eyes. Her sooty auburn hair was wild around her shoulders. She looked incredibly sexy in his jacket. He tried not to think about the fact she only had underwear on beneath it.

  Drew glanced towards the kitchen and then moved closer, pressing his mouth against her ear. “She's so batty no one believes what she says and she only really cares about the cats anyway. It can be our secret.”

  He felt her shudder, saw her pupils dilating into black pools of desire.

  Without any conscious thought or decision to cross a line, they were kissing. Who had moved first? He hardly knew. He only knew he wanted this woman, in a way he hadn't since he'd lost Rosa. He'd had sex since, sure, but not a connection, not passion. Not a desire that felt it would rip him apart.

  For the first time he kissed without comparing the kiss to those he had shared with his late wife.

  This was all about Polly.

  His jacket had fallen open and he ran his thumb over her silk covered breasts, feeling the hard buds of her nipples. For that moment he didn't care about the soot, the impropriety or the old bat in the kitchen.

  Polly pushed against his hand, her breath coming in hard, sharp bursts as she leaned against him, her lips against his cheek, hand pressed flat against his chest as though she were checking he was real.

  With a supreme effort of will, he pulled back before the point of no return. He jerked away and tugged the edges of his jacket back into place, covering her up.

  Just in time. Enid walked back into the room carrying a very wet and cross Tabitha.

  “I've just bathed her and she could do with a nice fire to warm herself up.”

  Just then Tabitha launched herself out of Enid's arms and dashed for the chimney again.

  Drew dived towards the hearth, grabbing her just in time.

  “I don't know what to do,” Enid sighed. “I can't be doing with boarding my chimney up. I can't have central heating put in. I'm not made of money.”

  ”I can take her if you like?” Polly offered.

  Quite generous of her, considering Enid hadn't even acknowledged her efforts.

  “There's a wood burning stove in my living room and a metal plate preventing any escape up the chimney. The heating is on, so she can warm up next to a radiator.”

  Enid eyed her quizzically, for longer than felt comfortable, as though assessing her suitability as a cat owner by mystical means. “I daresay Tabitha would be happy with you. She’s taken to you right enough. Now, why don't you go home with her and get cleaned up and we'll see if your man here is as good at starting fires as he's supposed to be at putting them out. I'll send him round for his jacket when he's done.” There was a triumphant gleam in Enid’s eyes, as though she had engineered the whole thing and knew exactly what they'd been up to.

  The uncharitable thought that in previous centuries she would have been called a witch crossed Drew's mind.

  Polly's gaze flickered briefly to his, a message in their depths that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He knelt to get the kindling as she scooped up the cat and left the room, her cheeks crimson beneath the patches of soot.

  Chapter Five

  Polly showered the grime from her skin, revelling in the warmth, soothed by the jets sluicing her skin clean. Tabitha curled up into a tiny ball on the bath mat next to the heated towel rail and slept.

  As she sponged shower gel into her body, her skin tingled.

  All she could think was Drew, Drew, Drew... How long would he be? Did he want to take things further? Would he think her dreadful if she wanted to take them further tonight?

  Long months of celibacy made her want to throw caution to the wind. Her body craved him with an intensity she'd never felt before. She'd been so far gone when he was kissing her she would have let him do anything he wanted, right there on Mrs Cromaty's hearthrug. No one had ever made her forget herself like that before.

  It wasn't just the gentle, masterful way he had prised her out of the chimney, although the sensation of his fingers sliding over her flesh was powerfully fresh in her mind. She jolted with a sharp shiver of pleasure and anticipation. There was something in his eyes—a like soul searching for something life affirming, wanting to experience passion, to make a connection.

  She ran the sponge between her legs, wishing he were in the shower with her.

  The doorbell chimed and she started. Heart pounding, she leapt out of the shower and grabbed a towel, splashing water on an indignant Tabitha.

  Mouth dry, she opened the door to Drew, noticing for the first time the soot smeared on his face and peppering his dark, closely cropped hair.

  They stared wordlessly for what felt like an eternity. Then the corner of Drew’s mouth quirked into a smile.

  Polly smiled back, her mind made up. “Would you like to use my shower? After all, it’s my fault you're covered in soot. I just have to shampoo my hair.”

  Drew stepped inside and shut the door. “Perhaps I could join you?”

  He tugged gently at the towel tucked around her and she let it fall, walking away naked towards the stairs. “Come on then.”

  A strange calm filled her. She should be worrying about him thinking her a harlot, but surprisingly she wasn't. This felt right, and she was going to enjoy it. Moving to the Lake District had been about choosing to live, to experience a world outside of work. Why not start right here?

  The tread of his feet on the stairs was the only sound to puncture the silence. Arousal stirred and her skin prickled at his imagined gaze on her body.

  She didn't turn when they were in the bathroom, just stepped into the shower and waited for him to undress and follow. If she hesitated she might lose her nerve. The water ran hot, filling the shower cubicle with steam. She sensed him behind her, heard the door click shut, then turned.

  “Let me get that soot off you. My way of saying thank you.”

  She grabbed the soapy sponge and rhythmically rubbed it across his firm chest, bracing her other hand against his pecs in an attempt to keep herself from sliding. Then she reached up to soap his neck, deliberately grazing her very erect nipples against his skin.

  He grabbed the sponge. “My turn. Turn around.”

  Hardly able to believe she was doing it, she obeyed, letting her h
ead rest back against his chest. Boy, he’s tall. And what’s he doing to me? It felt divine, the soapy sponge sliding over her breasts, making her arch against him and gasp. Then he slid the sponge rhythmically between her legs. It lightly massaged her clit and made her long for the hard erection at her back. She wanted him to put her out of her misery. The anticipation was too much to bear. She tried to twist back round.

  “Uh, uh.” Drew blocked her, moved her hands up above her head and held them there with his left hand. He continued to massage her until she writhed and bucked against the soapy sponge, letting the wave of pleasure rip through her body, surrendering to his control.

  She was living. She was free.

  She twisted around, turned on even more at the sight of his dilated pupils and his evident desire.

  He bent his head and whispered in her ear. “Now that you're clean, it's time to get dirty.” Turning off the shower with one hand, he opened the cubicle door with the other. Then he swept her up into his arms before she had time to even realise what he was doing.

  He kicked open the only other door on the landing. The door to her bedroom.

  He deposited her onto the bed and grinned.

  “Okay?”

  She nodded, unable to speak as he knelt down and parted her thighs. Her head swam, overwhelmed with happy hormones and dizzy with desire.

  She moaned as he lowered his head between her legs. He teased her with his tongue until she was jerking in his grip.

  In the afterglow, it crossed her mind that she didn't know this man and yet there was the undeniable feeling that she did know Drew, that she knew what mattered and she could trust him with her life.

  “Your turn?” she gasped, once the waves of pleasure had subsided.

  He shook his head, eyes dark with need. “I have to have you now.”

  The air felt thick with pheromones and his desire resonated deep within her. A familiar looking foil packet glinted in his hand and he raised an eyebrow, seeking permission. She nodded, feeling free, uninhibited, as though the break with her old life had given her licence to reinvent herself, she let him turn her over and laid her head on her arms, gasping as he entered her from behind. His full length was deep inside, and it felt right. He fitted. In every way that mattered.