When the elevator doors slid open, Mulligan walked into a luxurious apartment packed with San Gabriel firefighters, all of them clean and showered, and most of them wearing ties. They gawked at the spectacular panoramic view from the floor-to-ceiling picture windows and held their bottles of beer with care so as not to spill on the immaculate, plush carpet.
Mulligan had dressed for the occasion too, in a tailored suit and electric blue silk tie. He’d bought the suit during his baseball years, for the occasional charity event. A small bedroom near the entrance had been opened up as a coatroom. He ducked in to drop his coat on the pile on the bed, and compose himself before facing the crowds. Or rather . . . facing Lizzie. Of course she would be here, and he hadn’t seen her since last Saturday night, but he’d been thinking about her nonstop.
“Mulligan, you look incredible,” said Rachel, greeting him with a warm hug. She looked gorgeous herself in a violet party dress, but he barely noticed because his eyes went straight to the beautiful girl laughing with Double D over by the priceless Impressionist painting on the wall. Lizzie wore a sleeveless, strapless, backless dress that defied every law of gravity on the planet. What fabric it contained was a deep mauve color, like the inner petals of a rose. It made her skin glow . . . every exposed inch of it . . . which was a lot. Too much.
Suddenly he wanted to bounce Double D right out the top-story window.
He muttered something to Rachel—hopefully something halfway polite—and made a beeline for Lizzie. The closer he got, the more gorgeous she looked. Her hair hung in loose curls over her shoulders and halfway down her back—as if that could make up for the lack of decent fabric to cover her. She’d done something to her eyes that made them look smoky and sexy.
They’d gone out several times since the Chili Cook-Off, but he’d been on his best behavior, careful not to do anything inappropriate or anything that would reveal how much he hungered for her. The more time he spent with Lizzie, the more she got under his skin with her fresh and lively spirit, her directness, her tomboy sweetness. They’d gone to a baseball game; they’d gone hiking; they’d gone bowling; they’d gone to the movies.
But never once, not once, had she dressed up like this.
Good thing, too, or he would have taken her on the floor of the movie theater, customers be damned.
“Hi, Mulligan,” she greeted him cheerfully. “I was just offering to teach Double D some self-defense moves to surprise Freddie with.”
“D can take care of himself,” said Mulligan with irritation. He didn’t want anyone else putting his hands on Lizzie, not even a married old coot like Double D. “In a pinch, he can just use his belly.”
“Don’t mock the belly,” said Double D, sticking out said body part. “This thing ain’t just for show. It can do some real damage.” He winked at Lizzie, which just made Mulligan more annoyed.
“Lizzie, I brought you something,” he told her. “Do you have a second?”
Her eyes lit up. One of the many things he loved about Lizzie was how easily pleased she was. And how easily amused. She laughed at his goofy jokes when no one else bothered. And it took next to nothing to coax that big smile from her. Being with her made him feel like Superman in so many ways.
“Sure! What is it?”
Double D leaned in eagerly, ears cocked.
“D, I heard they have hot wings in the kitchen,” Mulligan told him. “Better hurry before they’re all gone.”
Double D offered him a scathing look. “I’m choosing to fall for that. Because I’m choosing to. Not because I love hot wings. But if there are no hot wings, you’ll answer to the belly.” He rolled toward the kitchen.
Alone with Lizzie, Mulligan raised his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “What kind of threat is that? Answer to the belly?”
“I don’t know, but whatever this secret present is, I hope it’s worth being rude to Double D.” Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest, eyes sparking. The gesture pushed her soft breasts together. His cock welcomed the sight with a salute.
“You can’t be rude to D. He’s impossible to offend. Rolls right off him, like sweat off a hedgehog.”
She tilted her head, as if trying to make sense of that image. “You’re crazy, Mulligan.”
“Thank you. I’ve been trying to tell you that for a while now.”
Was that a smile he caught quivering in the corner of her mouth? He wanted to lick it like an ice-cream cone.
She must have picked up on his sudden intensity, because she cleared her throat. “So come on, cough it up. What’s this present you’re so excited about?”
“I have to give it to you in private.” He took her hand and pulled her through the crowd, which took a while because everyone had to comment on how well he cleaned up and how they didn’t recognize his ugly mug and how great Lizzie looked and blah blah blah. It all blurred together because he was so anxious to get her alone.
Finally they slipped into one of the rear bedrooms, which smelled of rare flowers and was lit only by a table lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. He closed the door, locked it, and tilted a chair under the knob. Then he turned to Lizzie, whose eyes had gone wide.
“What are you doing?”
“This.” He whisked her into his arms and claimed her mouth in a deep, wild kiss, unleashing all his pent-up desire for her. She responded instantly, molding her slim body against him and opening her mouth to his fierce possession. Lizzie always reacted to his touch like a brushfire, flaring into immediate response. He ran his hands up and down her back, feasting on her slight curves and tight flesh. She had an athlete’s body, quick and flexible, and he loved how she used it to throw herself into home base or fling herself into his embrace.
Their kiss got more and more heated, until she pulled away, gasping. “Seriously, that’s your present?”
“What, it’s not enough?” He grinned, reaching for her again. “There’s more where that came from.”
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve been acting like an annoying perfect gentleman for weeks, and now this. I don’t get it.”
“You look so good, Lizzie. I lost my head. You should have warned me. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself around you?” And again, almost without his say-so, he found himself pulling her against him, needing her close. But this time she stiffened, leaning back so their upper bodies didn’t touch.
“You’re confusing me, Mulligan,” she whispered. “I’m not saying it doesn’t feel good, but I’ve never been crazy about roller-coaster rides.”
Oh God. She was right. He was an inconsiderate beast, a bull charging into a china shop, wrecking everything. He stepped away, jamming his hands into his pockets, wrestling his libido back under control. The feel of the small paperback in his pocket grounded him. He drew it out.
“I actually did have a real gift for you. It’s just that I got in here and it was too tempting, being alone like this. Here.” Without looking at her, he thrust his hand in her direction. He felt her lift the book from his grasp.
“Bang the Drum Slowly,” she read.
“My favorite baseball book, the one we were talking about. It’s about a pitcher and his friend who has Hodgkin’s disease and is trying to hide it. I think you’d like it. I found a copy in the used bookstore, but it’s in good condition and it’s even signed by the author. They made it into a movie too, but the book is better. I’ve read it about fifty times, and you seemed interested when I mentioned it, so—”
With a whoosh, his breath was knocked from his body by a sudden hug from Lizzie. More than a hug—she meant business. He turned and steadied her against him. Her face tilted to gaze up at him, her bright eyes misting with tears.
“You really did get me a present. The perfect present too.”
He felt a smile begin, a helpless, goofy, adoring smile. She always made him feel so good. “Of course. You think I’m that much of a horndog that I’d lie to lure you into my evil snare?” He stroked her supple upper arms, savoring the fine texture
of her skin.
“Well . . .” She made a comical face. “Not exactly, since you’ve been keeping me at arm’s length for weeks now.”
“That was for your own good,” he growled. “But all bets are off if you’re going to wear stuff like this.” He traced the neckline of her dress, the warmth of her skin radiating under his hand.
“Really? Because I was kind of wondering what would happen if I stopped wearing it.” Without warning, she reached toward the side of her dress and drew down the hidden zipper. He went pale.
“Stop right there.”
“Why?” She shimmied, the dress inching down her body.
“Because I can’t be responsible for the consequences.” His gaze latched on to the skin revealed by the zipper. Most of Lizzie was a golden tan from all her outdoor activity, but her torso had a moon-glow sheen that made his mouth water.
“I release you from all responsibility,” she whispered. “I hereby declare that I, Lizzie Breen, am dying to make love to you, Dean Mulligan, and that if I have to wait much longer I won’t be responsible for the consequences, but they’ll be ugly and will probably involve a fire hose or some martial arts moves or something drastic like that. Signed, Elizabeth Elspeth Breen.”
“Elspeth?”
“Don’t ask. Just make love to me, Mulligan.” The dress dropped off her body and there she stood in nothing but a wispy pair of panties, all sleek, lithe radiance.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then swallowed hard. “Lizzie—”
“Shh. I’m a grown woman. And I know what I want.”
She prowled toward him, her hair bouncing on her sweet shoulders, her nipples pink and tender, little buds that made his palms itch to feel them. And then they were there, right under his hands, soft as clouds, warm as home. He groaned into her hair. “God, Lizzie, you smell so good. Like a spring morning.”
“You smell like a tailor’s shop,” she murmured, rubbing her body against his suit coat like a kitty cat. “I can’t believe how amazing you look in this suit. It’s a good thing I haven’t seen you in it before now.”
“Why?” He was ready to ditch the suit and get naked, but not if she liked it that much.
“Because I would have fallen for you even harder and faster. Although I’m not sure that would be possible.”
“Ah, Lizzie. You’re killing me.” But what a sweet way to go, with those words in his head.
“Come on.” She took his hand and pulled him to the bed. Deftly, she unzipped his pants and tugged his white shirt from under its waistband. Damn. When did little Lizzie get so good at undressing a man? He didn’t want to think about that.
“Someone could walk in any minute,” he pointed out in a harsh voice. He didn’t mean it to be harsh; it just burst from his throat that way.
“You locked the door and propped a chair under the knob. If anyone knocks, I’ll have time to get dressed. And you can zip up fast, right?” The wild look in her eyes undid him.
“Oh hell.” He let out a groan that could have come from the depths of hell. “How am I supposed to resist you?”
“You’re not,” she said firmly. She reached into his pants and found his cock, wrapping her hand around it with a shy smile. That smile was the last straw. She was too delicious, too bright and sure and wonderful and everything he’d always wanted, but never imagined could be his. He began kissing his way down her body, her slim neck, the fluttering pulse at its base, the wings of her collarbones, the soft stretch of skin that led deliciously to the rise of her breasts. He took the tender swell of her nipples into his mouth, one by one, savoring them like sweet berries on a sundae. They hardened to little nubbins with an eagerness that made his cock jump.
She stroked it lightly, sighing over the top of his head. “Oh, Mulligan, that feels amazing.”
Those sighs drove him onward. If suckling her nipples made her moan, what else could he coax from her? Freeing himself from her grasp, he knelt on the carpet, holding her hips steady, one hand on each of her ass cheeks, his thumbs delving under her panties. When he lowered them enough to reveal her wispy curls and a dark gleam of moisture, he nearly groaned at her beauty. Then he leaned in and touched his tongue to her clit.
She bucked, her creamy white thighs quivering under his grip. “Oh my God.”
“You’re so silky and slippery,” he murmured against her sex. “The sweetest thing in the world.”
“Could you . . . maybe stop talking?” Her fingers dug into his scalp. He smiled, which gave her clit another shock of contact. She yelped. God, this was fun. He swept the rough flat of his tongue across her slick folds, softly at first, then harder as blood swelled her tissues and her pleas became more and more frantic—though still whispered. Then he experienced the amazing, life-changing thrill of feeling her shudder to a racking, wild climax, her hips bucking hard against his mouth. It was the hottest thing he’d witnessed . . . maybe ever. Her complete abandon to her pleasure had him so hard he was afraid his cock might leap off his body. As she came, as the orgasm went on and on, she let out a cascade of little squeaks; she must have her mouth clamped shut to keep from screaming.
Next time, she’ll scream, he vowed to himself.
When she was through, he found himself being pushed back onto the bedspread. She straddled him, her slim thighs hugging his hips. With her flushed face and the dark haze in her eyes, she looked like an advertisement for afterglow, as if it could be purchased at a drugstore. His cock stood up from his body, straight as a saluting soldier.
“My pocket,” he managed. She disappeared for a second, then danced back to him, a silver packet in her hand. He reached for it, but she held it away with a teasing grin. She tore it open and unrolled the thin sheath over his cock. He had to close his eyes to keep from coming during the process, because her serious look and careful movements, contrasted with her sensual nakedness, were almost too much for him.
She lifted her body and lowered herself onto him, her thigh muscles taut with the exertion. He stroked her inner thighs and the soft bush that descended on him. He’d never forget the taste of her, but this vision might be even more erotic. The low lamplight cast a golden swath of light across her breasts, making her nipples stand out. As she speared herself on his cock, she tilted her head back, utterly lacking in any kind of shyness or embarrassment. A smile parted her lips, a sigh wafted across him. And her body eased around him, a tight, hot fist of velvet and cream.
As soon as he was entirely within her, he felt the explosion build. He’d wanted her for too long, and she’d gotten him so turned on with her wild orgasm. He thrust upward, holding her hips still. She gave a muffled cry, and for a moment he was afraid he’d hurt her. He froze. “Are you okay?”
She nodded quickly. “It feels so good. But I don’t want anyone to hear.”
“Do you promise me we’ll do this again?” he said fiercely. “Because I need to come, I’m going to come, but I don’t want it to stop. Ever.”
“I promise. I do. I’m going to come, too.” She sounded shocked, as if she couldn’t believe it might happen again so soon. And that pushed him right over the edge. Oh, the things he was going to show her. The things they were going to do together. Erotic images flashed through his mind in an orgasmic cascade as he exploded hard inside her. She writhed wildly on top of him, her hair a flurry of dark silk.
“Remember what you promised,” he whispered to her afterward as he zipped his pants and she squirmed into her abandoned dress. “We’re doing this again. Again and again.”
“I always keep my promises,” she said with a seriousness that took him by surprise. “I don’t make them unless I mean them. What about you?”
“I told you,” he said, matching her sober tone. “I don’t want this to stop.”
She gave him a level, assessing glance, looking nothing like the wild girl who’d come against his mouth. “Okay then.”
And then someone finally rattled the doorknob, and she flattened herself against the wall, gesturing for him t
o open the door. She made funny faces at him the whole time he tried to explain to Rachel that he’d needed a little nap.
The adoration he felt for her scared him senseless.
“THAT WAS A great night,” he told Dream Lizzie. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you for weeks after that night.”
“I remember.”
“We did a good job keeping it secret.”
“We sure tried hard.” Dream Lizzie rested her chin on her hand, looking a little sad.
In the fraught silence, he thought about all their take-out meals and bedroom romps, their entire relationship conducted behind closed doors. “I didn’t want everyone talking about us. Firehouses love gossip.”
“Right.”
He bristled. “You wanted to keep a low profile too. I figured you didn’t want your family knowing you were seeing a ruffian like me.”
She looked up, her pretty mouth pressed into a firm line. “Didn’t you just finish saying I was tough? Don’t you think I could have handled my family?”
“Yes,” he said, a sense of recognition dawning. “You could have. You can handle the Breen brothers, pilot training, EMT training, and broke-down Dean Mulligan. You can probably handle anything.”
“Even . . . cancer.”
She whispered the word, which drifted through the air like smoke. It took him a moment to understand.
“Cancer,” he repeated stupidly. Shock shivered through him as the knowledge clicked into place. “That’s why you volunteer at the Children’s Wing. That’s why you’re so devoted to becoming a flight paramedic. That’s why all your brothers are so protective. And why your mother looks at you like you’re a miracle. That’s why you have so many doctor appointments. You have cancer?”
“Had. When I was a kid.”
“You never told me.”
She held his gaze, her absurdly perky elf costume at odds with her serious manner. “I was afraid to. You wanted things to be casual, remember? Cancer isn’t exactly casual.”
There was nothing casual about his feelings for Lizzie. Nothing. “I never said that.”
It's a Wonderful Fireman: A Bachelor Firemen Novella (The Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel) Page 8
