“That’s exactly why I’m here—I couldn’t sleep for thinking about her.”
Sighing, Martie’s brother nodded. “Well, since you’re apparently incapable of listening to sound medical advice, you can keep her company a while. I’m headed to Alexandra’s B&B to grab a few z’s before I drop from exhaustion.”
“It’s a nice place,” Chris said with a nod. “Comfortable beds, nice service. I stayed there a few weeks when I first moved to town some years back.”
Tony snorted and started past him. “I’m pretty sure they’ve at least flipped the mattresses since then,” he muttered.
Chris stifled a laugh and started for Martie’s room, stopping when Tony called to him.
“Hey Chris, do me a favor.”
Turning, he asked, “What’s that?”
“Try and keep your hands to yourself—at least until she’s out of the hospital.”
Before he could formulate a snappy comeback, Tony had turned again and walked away. Shaking his head, he stepped up to Martie’s door, knocking lightly and pushing it open. “Martie?” he called lightly as he stepped inside.
“Just a second,” she said from off to his left, where he noted the door to the bathroom was closed. A few moments later, she emerged, her hair twisted into a towel on top of her head and her body wrapped in a long, hospital-issued bathrobe.
It took every ounce of effort he had not to think about how she was most likely naked under that robe. He could feel his blood rushing to his groin and forced himself to look down at the flowers in his hand.
“I, uh, I hope you like roses,” he said haltingly.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you,” she said. “Could you put them on the bedside table for me?”
“Sure,” he replied, and when he reached the table he saw the recorder sitting there. He wondered if she’d listened to it already.
As though she had read his thoughts, Martie said softly, “I got your message.”
Chris cleared his throat and turned to look at her slowly, determinedly keeping his eyes on hers. “What did you think of it?”
Martie smiled. Then she walked over to him, lifted her hands to his face and brought it down to hers. “I think I loved it almost as much as I love you,” she whispered, and then closed the fraction of distance between them, touching her lips to his.
He was instantly on fire, lust rapidly burning a trail through his blood, flooding him with desire. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him, reveling in the feel of her body against his once more as she opened her mouth to his probing tongue. When her hands moved back and she threaded her fingers in his hair he groaned, and it was with no small amount of effort that he pulled his lips from hers.
“God, how I’ve missed you,” he said huskily.
“I’ve missed you too,” she replied, her voice slightly breathless. “But why did you stop?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Well, a couple of reasons. One being that we’re in a hospital.”
She chuckled. “I’ve no doubt the medical staff have christened just about every room in the building.”
“Maybe so,” he countered. “But they were all in prime physical condition—or so one assumes.”
Martie stepped back from him then, unwrapping the towel from her hair and tossing it to the side before undoing the sash at her waist and opening the robe to reveal that she was, indeed, naked underneath.
“Are you saying I’m not?” she teased as she allowed the robe to slide down her arms to the floor.
“Christ, Martie,” he cried hoarsely, his dick already rock hard and straining to be released. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to want her more than he ever had, but this display of wantonness was sorely testing that preconception.
“Baby, I want you, believe me. But you were just…”
“Chris, we’ve already missed so much time together,” Martie said, stepping up to him again and pressing her breasts to his chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Please give me a reason to have locked the door behind you.”
A slow, sly smile spread across his face as he gave in to the desire to plant his hands on that ass he loved so much, kneading the firm buttocks and eliciting a moan from the owner. “You locked the door?” he asked rhetorically, echoing words she had said to him little more than a week ago.
“I did indeed,” she replied, grinning wickedly as she slipped her hands under his t-shirt. Martie pushed the gray cotton upward, and as if the feel of her breasts against his bare skin weren’t enough to crumble his resolve, she completely destroyed any resistance he might have had left when she drew her tongue over his right nipple.
Chris groaned, his grip on her bottom tightening as she teased first one side of his chest and then the other. He could feel her nipples hardening as they brushed against him, and just thinking of those rosy buds made him want to suck on them. He bent at the knee to capture one in his mouth and Martie moaned. Her breathing became shallow as he feasted first on the left and then the right. While his mouth worked, his hands were not idle; one remained firmly planted on her ass and the other reached between her legs to massage her already moist folds.
When she began to moan softly, he turned them around, nudging her back to the bed. Martie climbed onto it and scooted backward while he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes widened when he looked at her after discarding it, for she was propped up on one elbow and the other hand was rhythmically massaging her clitoris. That she was confident enough to touch herself in his presence made his balls ache to be slapping against her. After shedding the rest of his clothes, he climbed onto the bed and she opened for him eagerly. Chris bent to kiss her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he slipped his throbbing erection into her hot, moist channel.
Martie moaned into his mouth and raised her hips, taking him deeper. She lowered them as he slid out, and rose again as he pushed back in. He sighed, feeling like he had come home after a very long absence to have her arms around his neck, her legs locked around his waist, and her welcoming center wrapped around his manhood. She met each of his thrusts with a lifting of her pelvis, knowing just when to rise and when to fall so as to increase the sensation they both felt. They moved in sync with one another just by feel, without words needing to be spoken. She moaned as her walls began to tighten around him. Chris knew her orgasm was coming and so was his, and he increased his pace, pushing faster, harder, needing to feel that indescribable euphoria again, reaching a height that only Martie could bring him to.
Her hands fisted in his hair and pulled as she crested the first wave, the jerk of her hips pulling him over the edge with her, his own hands bunching the pillow beneath her head. They cried out in each other’s mouths, their voices becoming one as pleasure carried them both away.
***
Though he had been reluctant to withdraw from her, Chris knew that inevitably, some doctor or nurse would come by to check on Martie, and finding not only the door locked but the two of them in flagrante delicto would not go over well.
At least I know she’s healthy enough for sexual activity, he thought with amusement as he pulled his clothes back into place and went to unlock the door.
“You know, mio caro, it’s a really good thing the blinds were closed against the sun,” Martie said, and he turned to find her donning clothing Tony must’ve brought her from Billings.
He raised an eyebrow when he noted the absence of a bra. “Going commando are we?” he queried as he returned to her side.
“Tony is thoughtful to an extent,” she replied as she pulled the shirt into place. “He brought me my own clothes knowing I’d want and need them, which he’s had to do before on occasion for various reasons. But my brother absolutely refuses to touch my underwear, even though I know for a fact that he has bought similar articles for his girlfriends in the past. I mean, I’ve helped him pick stuff out before. Yet when it comes to my own intimate apparel, he gets all weird about it, like he did when he thought girls had cooties.”
&n
bsp; Chris laughed. “I guess it’s a brother-sister thing. I wouldn’t know as I’ve no sisters to speak of, and I could care less about the underwear my brothers wear.”
Martie grinned. “As I was saying, it’s good thing the blinds were closed, or anybody passing by would have gotten quite an eyeful.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he urged her to lie back in the bed once more, turning so that his front was molded to her back. “But what a show it would have been,” he quipped.
“Indeed,” she replied, and he knew she was grinning.
Martie’s hands came to rest over his. “I went to see Ronnie earlier,” she said sadly.
“How is she doing?”
“Physically she’s still weak, but she’s expected to fully recover. You probably already know that they have her up in the ICU for a few days because of the stab wounds,” Martie replied. “The nurse told me that although they’d scar, her burns weren’t that bad—but I think Ronnie’s embarrassed by them because not once did she look directly at me. She might also feel ashamed or even responsible for what happened.”
Chris frowned. “None of this is her fault,” he insisted.
“I know that and you know that,” his lover replied, “but convincing her of that might well take time. After all, Graham’s obsession with her started when she refused to have an abortion. He’s hunted for her ever since—he said so himself—so that he could eliminate ‘the problem’. He found her here after more than a decade, and his need to control led to his trying to kill her and her daughter. That led to Calvin’s death and it led to the both of us being kidnapped. She…she performed oral sex on him so that he wouldn’t force himself on me, and she might have gone further if seeing him debase her like that hadn’t made me so sick that I couldn’t watch any more of it.”
He shuddered inwardly at her words. And though it sickened him to think of it, he wanted to ask what it was that Graham had been doing to her that would have prompted Ronnie to do what she had done. Given that when he found them Martie’s shirt had been hanging open and her bra torn, he had a pretty good idea, and it made him hate Graham Henderson all the more.
Chris did not ask Martie for specifics. Though she had told him of Ronnie’s sacrifice he sensed she was hesitant to speak about what ways Graham had touched her, so he remained silent as he’d promised her he would.
At least, he did not ask her anything about her ordeal. When he did speak next, it was to tell her about one of his own.
“Martie, do you really want to know why I started that fire twenty years ago?” he asked.
She rolled onto her back and turned her head to look at him. “Of course I’m curious about it, but it doesn’t matter anymore, Chris. I should never have listened to Graham and Tony and let them make me doubt myself—or you. I should never have gone behind your back like that—it was a stupid mistake, and I’m sorry. You were absolutely right, what you’ve done since then is what matters.”
Tipping his head forward, he kissed the end of her nose. “I’m sorry too. I think the reason I got so angry was because I was already falling in love with you, and it was hard enough to admit to myself that I could care that much about you so soon. The fact that you’d done something that felt like a betrayal made me feel like a fool for allowing my heart to take the lead.”
Martie raised a hand to cup his cheek. “And hearing that just makes me feel worse for allowing my insecurities to get the best of me. Logically I know that if I wanted to know more about you, all I had to do was ask. I’m so sorry that I nearly tore us apart for good—can you ever forgive me?”
This time the kiss he gave her was on the lips, a soft, tender pressure of his lips on hers. “Wótheȟila, I already have.”
He watched her sigh contentedly and smile as she turned again, this time to lay on her right side so they were facing each other. “So, um… Why did you start that fire?”
Sighing himself, Chris replied, “For some reason, when I hit puberty I developed a real shitty attitude. To this day I don’t know what the hell caused it, but by the time I was fifteen, I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Montana. My piss-poor excuse for it is ‘middle child syndrome’: My older brother Aaron was the first-born son, my little brother Greg was the baby. I was just…in the middle. There was nothing special about me, and it must have bothered the shit out of me because I resented both of my brothers despite how much I loved them. I resented my parents, grandparents, and anyone in a position of authority that tried to tell me what to do.
“When Aaron left for college, it became my responsibility to look after Greg—or so I led myself to believe. I resented feeling like I had to watch out for him even while I did my best to protect him.”
Martie put a hand on his chest. “Why did Greg need protection?” she asked.
“Because he had a learning disability—still does, technically. Greg’s dyslexic, which as you know makes even simple tasks like reading difficult or impossible. And you know how cruel kids can be when they’re bullying those they perceive as weaker than themselves. Greg started getting into fights because of being picked on, and after the first couple of times I intervened, I was forbidden to do so again because of how violently I reacted. It made no sense to me that I couldn’t defend my little brother, but those dumbass kids could get away with making fun of him.
“So one day, I decided on a different kind of vengeance. I followed this one punk kid home to learn where he lived, and I watched his house for about a week before I got up the nerve to send a bottle of my dad’s favorite liquor sailing through their front window with a rag stuffed in the neck. He and his brother and mother were home that day, and I guess there was still a part of me—albeit a small one—that had some sense left, because right after I threw it I went to the pay phone down on the corner of the street and made an anonymous call to the fire department. Only reason anyone knew it was me is because one of the neighbors saw me.”
He paused a moment, reflecting back on those old memories and regretting being so impulsive and headstrong. “Because it was my first offense, the judge denied the prosecution’s request to charge me as an adult. But due to the serious nature of my crime, he said, I needed to be made to understand that there were consequences to my actions, and so I spent the next two years as a guest of the Montana State Youth Authority. Once I’d turned eighteen and received my high school diploma, my juvenile record was sealed. By that time I realized what an idiot I’d been and I grew the fuck up. Got myself an Associate’s degree at Roosevelt County Community College, and then applied to the Montana Fire Academy. I thought what I’d done might bar me from getting in but they overlooked that unfortunate indiscretion because it was a juvenile offense, and the rest is history.”
He chuckled lightly. “You know, I never really thought about it before, but my grandfather was right.”
“About what?” she asked.
“Well, after I set fire to the Kilmers’ house and I was in the kiddie jail, my grandfather came to visit me. I hadn’t quite grown up yet so at the time I didn’t put much stock in what he said, but he told me that fire and I were destined always to dance—that my path in life had been chosen for me before I was born. After all, my last name is the anglicized version of pȟéta, a Lakota word for ‘fire’. That and the fact that I was born in a fire.”
Martie’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
Chris nodded. “Yeah. From what I was told, a space heater’s motor burned out, sparked, and the living room rug caught fire. Mom and Aaron were home alone, she was about to pop with me, and the fire just spread too fast for them to get out. They were hiding in Mom and Dad’s room when her water broke, and I must’ve been in a big damn hurry because she swears I started crowning almost immediately. Only had to push twice, and the fire department was busting through the door when I took my first smoke-filled breath. It’s why my Lakota name is Born in the Flames.
“Anyway, I guess even though I wasn’t paying attention at the time, Grandfather’s words
stayed with me. I remember thinking about them when I applied to the fire academy. I met Calvin because they let me in, and I met you because of him. All of it revolving around fire.”
Her hand came to cup his cheek again, and this time it was she who leaned in to kiss him. “I’m glad you cleaned up your act, because if you hadn’t we might never have met.”
“And we might never have fallen in love,” he added. “So what do we do now? You pointed out before that we live in different cities—how are we going to make this work?”
She smiled. “Tomorrow, I think I’m going to see about moving to Gracechurch, as I can do my job from pretty much anywhere.”
“Martie, that’s… I don’t know what to say,” Chris marveled, his chest swelling with emotion on hearing that she was willing to uproot herself to be with him.
“All you have to say is that you want me.”
Tightening his embrace, he drew her against his chest and said, “I don’t just want you, I need you.”
“Good,” she replied, “because I need you too. So, that’s tomorrow.”
He grinned against her hair. “And what about today?” he asked.
“Today—right now—I want you to get some sleep,” Martie told him. “Close your eyes, mio caro, and rest.”
With a sigh, Chris closed his eyes, kissed the top of Martie’s head, and did as he was told…falling asleep to the sound of her steady breathing.
Epilogue
September 11, 2011
“Ten years have passed since the day the world stood still,” said Sarah Richardson Maxwell, Mayor of Gracechurch. “September 11, 2001 is a day which those of us who are old enough to remember will never forget. It is a day of tragedy, of fear, of mourning…but also hope. Men and women who did not know each other before that day sacrificed their lives to bring down a terrorist-held plane in a non-descript field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania—thereby saving lives untold. Men and women who did not know each other rushed to the Pentagon, and they rushed into the World Trade Center towers, for the sole purpose of saving the lives of strangers.
Fire Born (Firehouse 343) Page 23
