Flaming Desire - Part 3 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Grey, Helen

  He groaned.

  “Matt!” I shouted down at him. “Open your eyes, Matt!”

  He did. I never felt so much relief in my life. Those gorgeous eyes of his, looking up at me. I quickly yanked my handkerchief from around my neck and wiped his face of blood and dirt. He had a two-inch gash near his hairline. I quickly shrugged out of my backpack, reached inside for my small first aid kit. I bumped my head against one of the low-lying branches and bit back a curse. From up above, I heard a voice shouting, and then I recognized it—Steven.

  “Matt! Jesse!”

  “Down here!” I shouted.

  Seconds later, Steven, most likely following our crashing trail down the slope, appeared underneath the drooping spruce branches. He stared at both of us with wide-eyed amazement.

  “You okay Jesse?” He glanced at Matt. “Is he okay?”

  “I’m okay,” Matt mumbled.

  I stared down at him, and I swear, if Steven wasn’t staring at us right this minute, I would’ve kissed the living daylights out of Matt. At this very moment, I wanted him so bad, physically and emotionally. I wanted to throw my arms around him, press my lips against his, and cry out my relief that he was alive.

  He lifted a hand and pushed my hand away. I scowled down at him. “Matt, you’ve got a gash on your forehead. Let me stop the bleeding—”

  “It’s okay, Jesse,” he said, struggling to sit up. “It’s okay.” He lifted his hand and pressed it against the wound. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”

  I didn’t want him to sit up, wanted to make sure that he was okay, but Matt was soon sitting up, staring down at himself, then at Steven and me.

  “Did they get the trees? Did they get the hot spot?”

  “The crews up there are working at it,” Steven replied. “Looks like we got a handle on it.” He pulled his walkie from his belt. “This is 37,” he spoke into the walkie. “I’ve got them, they’re okay, but we could use the ATVs—”

  Matt grabbed the walkie from Steven’s hand and shook his head. He spoke into it. “This is 24, no ATV needed. All okay.”

  Both Steven and I stared at Matt with dismay. I frowned. “Matt, you’ve got to go get checked out—”

  He looked at me and tried to smile. The white flash of teeth in his dirty, blood-smeared face seemed incongruous. Here we all were, tucked under the sloping, wonderful smelling aroma of spruce tree branches. It seemed quiet and peaceful, while only a couple hundred yards away, the chainsaw crew was likely scrambling to extinguish the last of the flames that erupted from the hotspot. I wished I could have stayed here for a while with Matt, without Steven of course, no offense, but in the next instant, Steven backed away, lifting the branches. He ordered the ATVs while, beside me, Matt cursed a blue streak.

  Matt scrambled to his knees and crawled out from under the tree. I followed. “Matt, you could have a concussion—” I was beginning to grow increasingly impatient with him. Dammit! He knew better!

  By the time I scrambled from beneath the tree limbs, both Steven and Matt were standing. Matt carefully removed his backpack and then gazed at the holes in it. He glanced down at the back of his pants and shook his head. Steven began to make his way laboriously back up the slope, reaching for tree branches and shrubs to help him along.

  I stared at Matt for a moment, trying to give him a quick inspection. “I want to see the back your legs,” I said. He shook his head. “Matt, I don’t want to argue with you—”

  “Then don’t,” he said, glancing as far as he could toward the back of his legs. “Not any worse than a sunburn,” he commented.

  He looked at me and then grinned. I couldn’t find anything amusing about any of it. “My God, Matt, do you know how lucky you are? Your backpack probably saved you. I don’t think you even realized that your pants were on fire, did you?”

  He shook his head, feeling along the front of his thighs and then cupping himself. Once again, he grinned. “My junk is safe and sound, and I’ve got a bit of a headache, but nothing much more than that. Should we get back to work?”

  I stared at him in dismay. I saw his hand still cupping his crotch, and I quickly glanced up the hillside. Steven had just about topped the slope. I stepped forward and threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. Then, I slid my hand between us and cupped his “junk” as he called it, and gave his cock and balls a gentle, caressing squeeze. I immediately felt movement beneath my hand and glanced up at him in surprise.

  “I’m hot,” he commented.

  I frowned, worried that his burns were worse than he claimed. My eyes widened in alarm and I quickly glanced down, but his next words stopped me.

  “Do you know how bad I want you right now? I’m so hot for you, Jesse, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the others were waiting for us up there, I’d drag you under that spruce and do things to you that you could never imagine.”

  His words had me wet in an instant. I don’t know if it was relief that he was okay, the fact that I realized that my feelings for him were quite a bit stronger than I could ever have imagined, or because of the way those white teeth of his flashed and his eyes twinkled with amusement. At this moment, I felt much the same.

  “Much as I’d love to oblige you, Matt, I don’t think we could get away with it. Can I take a rain check?” I removed my hand from his crotch and placed it on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I said, serious again. “You scared the living shit out of me, you know.”

  “Well, then we’re even then, aren’t we?”

  A paused, not quite sure what he meant, and then realized he was talking about what he must’ve felt when he saw me running toward the burning house the other morning. I nodded. “Yeah, we’re even.”

  “Let’s get back to work, Jesse, and then tonight, maybe we can find some time alone someplace. Then I can do everything to you I’m imagining in my head right this minute.”

  I laughed even though his words sent a tingling thrill rush through me. With a quick glance at the slope, I saw that Steven had topped the rise. I lifted myself up onto my toes and reached for Matt’s head, pulling it down toward me. I needed to kiss him, to touch him, to feel his warmth joining with mine. I was so relieved that he was all right.

  I would insist that he go down to the base camp as soon as possible to get his head looked at, but I knew that he would likely refuse to do so until we made sure that the hotspot had been taken care of.

  Added to the mixture of adrenaline and relief that Matt was all right, was the overwhelming surge of desire I felt for him at this moment. I also realized that for now, I would have to be satisfied with what he could offer, emotionally and physically. I didn’t want to place any demands on him, but at the same time, I did want him to feel comfortable enough with me, close enough to me, connected enough with me to start trusting in me as much as I trusted him. Even though we had only known each other for a short time, I knew without a doubt how much Matt meant to me. The only problem was… I didn’t know if my feelings were completely one-sided.

  Our attraction to each other had to be more than sex, didn’t it?

  He began to make his way up the slope and I followed. With every step he took, I watched him and, though I knew his head must have been throbbing, he didn’t act like it. His coordination and his balance seemed okay, so I figured he was going to be all right. Still, the site of the burn holes in his backpack, which he had once again slung over his shoulder as I had done mine, and the holes in the fabric of the back of his pants kept taunting me.

  I knew, perhaps better than others, how quickly things could change. One minute everything was okay, and the next minute, your world collapsed around you. As Hotshots, we knew the risks. Still, knowing the risks didn’t make the worry go away. I had never been as attached to another firefighter on the lines.

  It changed everything.

  Chapter 5

  By the time we got back to the top of the slope, the chainsaw crew had pretty much managed to get the fires in the treetops out. T
hey had cut down three trees and were now in the last processes of shoveling dirt and hacking the life out of any embers that remained. Matt was breathing heavily from the climb back up the slope, but then again, so was I.

  “I think we should go back down to the base camp so that I can patch you up,” I suggested.

  He shook his head, and then winced. “No, I’m okay.”

  “Okay then, let’s do it here—”

  “You’re going down to base camp,” Steven said, pointing to another small crew making its way laboriously up the mountainside. “We’ll take care of everything up here. You go down and get checked out. We don’t want to lose you, Matt. Besides, you could probably do with a change of pants.”

  Matt grinned at him, and then gently nodded in agreement. “Okay, fine, but I’m telling you I’m all right.”

  “I’m coming down with you,” I said. He glanced at me, about to protest, but I would brook no disagreement from him. I suppose the look I gave him was enough, because he didn’t say anything more, but merely shrugged.

  “There’s an ATV waiting about halfway down. Are you sure you can make it down on your own?” Steven asked. He glanced at me. “I can help if you need me.”

  Again, Matt said no, and I offered a lame shrug at Steven. “I’ve got him,” I said. “I’ll drag him down the mountainside if I have to.”

  Steven clapped Matt on the shoulder and then turned to help the chainsaw crew mop up. As we headed down, we passed the other crew. To a man, all of them looked at Matt, then me, then back at Matt. All of them offered a thumbs-up. I knew that most Hotshots, myself included, would do anything, or just about anything, to stay on the fire line. No one wanted to go to the first aid station. No one wanted to trip, fall, or break anything that would take him or her off the line. I knew how Matt felt. He didn’t want to go to the first aid station because he was afraid the doctor might tell him he had a concussion and pull him off the line.

  “Matt, if you let me clean up that wound for you, we could probably avoid the first aid station—”

  “I told you I’m fine,” he said, making his way down the slope, placing his feet carefully so that he didn’t trip.

  I swore under my breath. He was so stubborn! “Okay, then you’re going to the first aid station.” He paused and turned around, staring down at me with a frustrated, impatient expression. “I mean it, Matt,” I said. I gestured toward the scalp wound. “At the very least that needs to get cleaned up. I can put some butterfly strips on it, but if it needs stitches, you’re out of luck.”

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  I wasn’t sure if he was upset with me or the idea that he might need stitches. If he did, I would have to take him to first aid. I knew he would do everything he could to convince the doctor that he was fit to go back on the fire line, but I also knew that the chances were good that the doctor would say no.

  I tried to think of a way that we could take care of his wound with no one the wiser, unless of course, it needed more serious attention. “I’ll tell you what, Matt,” I suggested. “You take the ATV down the rest of the way, and I’ll meet you behind the kitchen trailer, where we met earlier… you know a little deeper into the woods. No one will see us there. I can take care of that, and maybe if you wear a bandanna, no one will see the cut on your head.”

  He turned around again and stared at me. I had no idea what he was thinking. Finally, he nodded, as I knew he would. That was how badly he wanted to go back on the fire line. It seemed as if our earlier disagreement had been pushed to a back burner, so to speak, but I knew that eventually, I would need some answers. First, however, we had to get him back on the line or he was going to be miserable, and I didn’t want to see that. I also knew that, if the wound was bad and I had even an inkling that he had anything more than would require some aspirins to deal with, I would personally drag him to the first aid tent myself.

  We made our way down another couple of hundred yards, and then I spied the ATV. Actually, I saw two of them, each driven by National Park Service rangers. I guess Steven had called for both of them, assuming, correctly, that if I didn’t stick to Matt like glue that Matt would be tempted to forgo any medical ministrations.

  Matt and I each climbed aboard an ATV and in a short time arrived back at the base camp. Matt directed the driver to pull up alongside the first aid station. He did so. By the time we climbed off, nodded our thanks to the Rangers, and they had pulled away, Matt was heading for our sleeping tent.

  “Where’re you going?” I asked.

  “I’m changing my pants. Go ahead and get your first aid kit out and I’ll meet you behind the kitchen trailer in just a few minutes.”

  I was going to disagree, wondering if he would have the audacity to leave me standing back there all by myself while he made his way back up the fire line. Then I shrugged, deciding he was right. With blood all over his face, burned pants, and a half burned backpack, his presence wouldn’t go unnoticed. At any rate, I finally acquiesced. Adjusting my backpack on my shoulders, I walked toward the kitchen trailer and then behind it, touring the area Matt and I had met earlier.

  I ventured another twenty yards or so into the trees, and then sat down on a fallen log, removed my backpack, and retrieved the first aid kit from it. If the supplies I had in my first aid kit were not sufficient to take care of Matt, then he would have no choice but to go to the first aid tent. I would insist on it.

  I had just gone through the supplies and pulled out what I believed I would need when I heard the crack of a branch. I looked up and saw Matt venturing into the tree line. I didn’t call out to him, but simply stood and waved my arm, and in a matter of seconds, he noticed the movement and headed toward me. Once again, I had to admire his features, his physique, and his dedication to his work. How could I do otherwise?

  “Okay,” he said as he approached. “Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible so that we can get back on the line, okay?”

  I nodded. “Sit down,” I said, gesturing toward the log. He did so and then turned to face me. His face was still dirty, as I’m sure mine was, and the blood that now caked the side of his face was also mingled with dirt and sweat. “It’s not bleeding anymore,” I commented. “That’s a good sign.”

  He said nothing, but continued to stare at me while I plucked a clean neckerchief from my backpack and doused it with water from my canteen. I began to wipe away the blood and dirt from his face. For some reason, he pulled away with an impatient growl, snatched the kerchief from my hand and began to do it himself. What the hell? I scowled at him.

  “You’re being too gentle, and slow,” he said. “I’ll get the worst of it, and then you can deal with the cut.”

  Knowing better than to argue, I let him do what he wanted, and in a matter of moments he had pretty much wiped as much of the grime and blood off his face as he could without looking in a mirror. He looked at me.

  “Better?”

  I smiled. “Yes, much better.” I held out my hand and he placed the dirty, soiled neckerchief in my hand. I put it back down on my backpack. I opened a package of gauze and then a couple of alcohol strips. Without saying a word, I began to dab gently around the gash on his forehead. He didn’t look at me, but over my shoulder and down the slight slope, through the trees that led to the base camp as I worked at cleaning the area around the gash. He only winced once or twice, but I said nothing.

  After I got most of the blood wiped away, I opened yet another alcohol swab. “Okay, this might hurt a little. I’ll try to do it quickly,” I commented. Without waiting for him to reply, I reached up and placed the alcohol swab over the top of the cut and then worked my way down, trying to clean the edges without hurting him too badly. He closed his eyes, which I was grateful for, because I was feeling rather guilty for hurting him. I knew that the sting of alcohol on the cut would be fierce.

  “How’s it look?”

  After I swabbed the gash, I tossed the soiled alcohol wipes onto the equally soiled bandanna. Clasping e
ach side of his head, I pulled it carefully toward me and inspected the wound. The scent of his hair, the smell of wood smoke, pine, and sweat invaded my senses. My nose and mouth were so close to his I felt his breath. I swallowed.

  “I think we can get away with a couple of butterfly strips,” I said.

  He said nothing, but merely nodded. I quickly set to work crafting a couple of butterfly strips out of medical tape in my first aid kit. I carefully applied three of them to the gash, then covered the wound with a gauze square folded in half before using the medical tape to firmly attach the gauze onto his forehead. Reaching into my backpack, I retrieved yet another kerchief and handed it to him.

  “I think if you fold this up, tie it around your forehead and wear it under your helmet, no one will even notice the cut.”

  He looked at me, took the kerchief from my hand, and then nodded his thanks. I looked at him, into those beautiful eyes I’d grown so fond of, and a wave of tenderness swept through me. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel his realness. I wanted him to make me forget the past hour and make it all better.

  I’d been so scared when I’d seen the flames licking at his clothes… so scared as we had rolled over and over down the slope. When I had seen the blood on his face…

  My lips were on his. After only the briefest hesitation, which caused me to wonder, he returned my kiss. Before long, the kiss increased in passion and I felt his tongue dip inside my mouth. I playfully tangled my tongue with his, and then scooted a little closer to him on the log. My arms were now wrapped around him, and one of his hands was gently clasping the nape of my neck, the other resting on my hip.

  In a matter of seconds, my body was on fire, desire scorching every cell. The intensity of the kiss increased. My hands stroked his back, reveling in its contours, musculature, and absolute strength. In turn, his hand tucked a stray clump of hair behind my ears and then caressed my cheek. I leaned my face into the caress, reveling in the absolute gentleness of his big, strong hands.