by Lisa Childs
Like she had in the parking lot, she automatically moved her head to the crook of his neck. Her warm breath tickled his throat, making his skin tingle. The excitement he should have felt earlier—at the prospect of traveling to fight a wildfire and especially at the opportunity to become a smoke jumper—he felt now instead. It surged through his body, tensing his muscles and hardening his cock. His erection strained against the fly of his pants.
What was it about Serena Beaumont that affected him so much? She was beautiful but in a natural way that he usually found too tame for his taste. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup. Her lashes were probably that long and black without mascara, her lips normally that pink. And he suspected she’d been born with her tan.
But it wasn’t just that she was physically beautiful. Her beauty went deeper than her skin. It was in the gentle way she treated her elderly boarders and in her patience with the overly energetic puppy. She’d quickly housebroken Annie. Cody was afraid she might housebreak him, too.
She wasn’t just making his skin tingle; she was getting under it in a way no other woman ever had. And he hadn’t even made love to her. He’d only kissed her.
Her lips grazed his neck as she shifted in his arms. Then she murmured his name, “Cody…”
And his pulse quickened even more. “Shh…”
It was better that she stay sleeping; then he would be able to resist temptation.
He wanted to be a good guy for her. He carried her up the wide steps of the front porch. Even though night had fallen, only the screen door was shut, and there was no lock on it. The door with the dead bolt wasn’t even closed. Anyone could walk right in and maybe had the night his bathtub had been greased up.
He didn’t have to juggle her to open the screen door; it pushed out as Annie stepped onto the porch. So much for her staying out of the common areas of the house.
But she hadn’t piddled on any floors or eaten any antiques. Like him, she must have wanted to be good for Serena. Annie sniffed Serena’s dangling hand and Cody’s. Serena’s other arm was around his shoulders, her fingers clutching his shirt even as she slept.
Cody stepped through the door Annie had opened, but the dog didn’t come back inside the house. She lifted her head and peered around the darkness as if looking at something he couldn’t see. But he felt that odd sensation Dawson had mentioned feeling when the arsonist had been stalking his girlfriend, the reporter Avery Kincaid. He felt like he was being watched.
“Is there anyone out there, girl?” he asked the dog.
Annie stepped off the porch and lifted her head to sniff the air. Only a slight breeze blew, rustling the leaves in the trees.
Serena shifted against him, her lips brushing his throat again as she murmured, “Who?”
That was what he’d like to know. Was there someone out there? The arsonist?
But he wouldn’t have bothered greasing up a bathtub; he would have burned down the house instead.
“Get ’im, girl,” he told Annie as she bounded down the porch steps and ran into the darkness. She was probably chasing a raccoon or a possum—whatever critters wandered the woods at night. But he felt a little better that she’d gone off to investigate as he closed and locked both doors behind them.
The old folks were home. So was Stanley. His beat-up Pontiac was parked alongside one curve of the circular driveway. Cody didn’t know about the other boarder; he’d barely seen Mr. Tremont. They had just passed in the hall one morning. Tremont was older than Cody with hair grayer than Mr. Stehouwer’s. But he was probably only in his forties. He was really fit but for a slight limp.
If Mr. Tremont wasn’t home, he better have taken his key when he’d left. Or he wouldn’t be getting back inside the house.
Cody tightened his arms around Serena as he considered how long she’d been living with her doors unlocked—with the possibility of any danger sneaking into her house, into her bed.
He carried her up to her apartment on the third floor. Of course the door wasn’t locked; it wasn’t even shut. For an attic it had high ceilings, and the dormer windows let in considerable moonlight—enough that he easily found her brass bed—piled high with pillows—against the gable wall.
As he laid her on the mattress, the moonlight illuminated her beautiful face. Her lashes—so long and dark—lay against her cheeks. But then they fluttered and her eyes opened.
She stared up at him in surprise. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”
He could have told her the truth. He could have told her that he was being a good guy. Instead he told her what she and everyone else expected of him. “I’m seducing you,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m supposed to do that to you.”
He laughed; she was more drunk than he’d thought. But then he remembered her friend’s crazy suggestion. “That’s right. You’re supposed to seduce me. So I won’t sue you, which I never considered doing for a second.”
She reached up and gently traced the ridge of his stitches. “But you were hurt on my property…”
“I’m fine.”
Her fingers stroked the side of his face and trailed along his jaw. “Yes, you are…”
“So I’m not going to sue you,” he assured her.
“That’s good,” she said. “I already have one lawsuit against me.”
“Someone’s suing you?” Maybe that explained her sadness. “Who?” He would hurt that person—badly—or at least reason with him. No matter what had happened Serena didn’t deserve to be sued.
She skimmed her fingers over his lips now and murmured, “Shh…”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he agreed. “After you’ve had some sleep…” And a chance to sober up.
“I don’t want to talk.” She reached up and locked her arms around his neck—then she pulled him down on top of her. “I just want you.” Her lips replaced her fingers as she kissed him.
His body had already been aching for hers. He wanted her so badly. But not like this.
He pulled back. “Serena…”
She was awake now, her hands tugging at his shirt and then his belt. Before he could stop her, she pulled it free of his pants. The buckle hit the floor with a clank, and she giggled. Then she reached for the button at his waist.
He sucked in a breath as her fingers dipped inside his fly. His erection throbbed. Did he possess enough willpower to control his desire?
Especially with her touching him…
“Serena, we can’t do this.”
“I know you’re not sticking around,” she said. “I know you’re not my type. I know you’re not a good guy…”
“Then why do you want me?” he wondered aloud.
She giggled again. “Because you’re hot.” She reached for the buttons on her blouse. “I’m hot, too,” she murmured.
His breath escaped in a gasp as she parted her blouse and shrugged it off. Her bra was lace, the cups barely big enough to contain her round breasts. “You’re very hot…”
“It’s sweltering up here,” she said.
He hadn’t noticed the heat. He hadn’t noticed anything but how beautiful she was. She wriggled out of her skirt, so that she wore only the bra and matching lace panties.
His heart pounded frantically; he’d never wanted anyone more. When she reached for him again, tugging on his shirt, he wasn’t sure how he would resist her or if he could…
*
HER HEAD POUNDING, Serena squinted against the light streaming through the window over her bed. Had she slipped in the bathtub? Did she have a concussion now?
Her head hurt so badly, and she couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. She’d gone to the bank in the afternoon. Gordon had given her bad news. Then she’d met her friends at the bar.
And some nice man named Braden.
Had she…?
She lifted the thin sheet covering her and saw that she wore only her panties. Her bra lay beside the bed, tangled around a man’s belt. A man’s shirt covered her blouse an
d skirt.
Heat rushed to her face. She had been with someone. Who? She’d talked to Gordon. And then Braden.
But she hadn’t wanted either of them. She’d wanted Cody, his strong arms locked around her. A memory flashed through her mind of him carrying her.
She hadn’t even been able to walk on her own. She couldn’t drink. She wouldn’t drink. Never again. Because what had happened after he’d carried her up to bed?
What had she done?
She heard wood creaking as someone climbed the stairs and crossed the attic floor. She squeezed her eyes shut again—not because of the brightness of the sun but because of embarrassment. She didn’t want to face him or what she’d done.
And her biggest regret wasn’t that she’d done it, but that she couldn’t even remember it.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” a deep voice murmured. “I brought you coffee.”
She could smell the richness of it with just a hint of cinnamon—the way she always made it. Her nose wrinkled, and her mouth began to water. She needed that coffee.
But she needed to maintain whatever dignity she had left as well. So she kept her eyes closed.
A big hand folded over hers, gently prying her fingers from the edge of the sheet she’d pulled back up. He’d already seen her like this—already seen her breasts, touched them, tasted them…
So she shouldn’t have been shy, but she struggled to hold the sheet. He chuckled.
“I also brought you aspirin,” he said. And he dropped the pills into her hand.
She opened her eyes, stared down at the pills and then glanced up at his grinning face. He looked so damn happy and refreshed—like he’d slept well, like he wasn’t hungover. But then he wasn’t. She couldn’t remember if he’d even had anything to drink at the bar.
He picked up a glass of water from the tray he’d placed next to her bed—the tray that held a mug of steaming coffee and a plate of toast. “Take the aspirin,” he told her.
Her head pounded too much for her to protest. She swallowed them with a sip of the water. Then she reached for the coffee. “You made this?”
He nodded. “I have skills,” he bragged. “But then you know that…”
What skills had he used last night that she couldn’t remember? Her skin flushed again—maybe it was because of the coffee. Or maybe it was because of him. He sat on the bed next to her, his chest bare but for a light dusting of golden hair. At least he wore pants, but the top button was undone so that they rode low on his lean hips.
“But you put me to shame last night,” he said. “The things you did to me…”
Serena groaned. What had she done?
He’d carried her upstairs. And she’d kissed him. She winced again as she remembered pulling off his belt and his shirt.
Then her own clothes…
“I had no idea you were so wild,” Cody said. “You couldn’t get enough of me.”
She could understand that. It had been a while since she’d been with anyone. And she’d never been with anyone like Cody. She wanted to make love with him now so that she would know how it felt…
“The way you clawed my back…” he said, whistling between his teeth. “And bit my neck…”
She narrowed her eyes and studied him. The only marks that she could see on his body were the stitches on his forehead. “Are you messing with me?”
“Hey,” he said. “You’re the one who insisted on seducing me.”
Her face heated; she remembered saying that and being the aggressor. He’d tried to stop her.
But if they had had sex…
She must have seduced him.
10
CODY TOUCHED HER flushed cheek. “You have no reason to be embarrassed,” he told her.
She grimaced. “Yes, I do. I got drunk and threw myself at you.”
“Yes.”
She pulled the sheet over her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled. “I’m your landlady. I understand if you can’t stay here anymore.”
“Nothing happened,” he told her.
“What?”
He reached for the sheet and tugged. It slipped a little lower so that it barely covered the tops of her bare breasts.
“Nothing happened,” he repeated. But he wasn’t certain how he had summoned the willpower to resist her.
He still wanted her.
His body throbbed, his every muscle tense and aching with needing her.
“Really?” she asked, clearly skeptical of his claim.
“I know you don’t think I’m a good guy,” he said. “But I’m not a creep either. You were drunk, so I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”
She stared up at him in the way that unnerved him so much. “You are a good guy.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m just not a creep.”
“You didn’t have sex with me,” she said. “Even though I threw myself at you.”
“You didn’t claw or bite me,” he said. “I was only teasing.”
“But I undressed you and myself…”
He groaned as he remembered her fingers caressing his skin. “You did do that.”
“But nothing happened…”
“No,” he regretfully told her.
“And you still made me breakfast and brought me aspirin.”
He shook his head. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want her gratitude. He’d done what she would have for any of her boarders. But unlike Serena, who did everything out of the kindness of her heart, he had ulterior motives.
“It is to me,” she said. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for not taking advantage or for the coffee and aspirin. “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t know why you don’t want anyone else to know what a good guy you really are.”
He trailed his fingers along her jaw and tipped her chin. Her eyes were clear, no redness around the dark irises, as she stared up at him.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you completely sober?”
She nodded.
“Your head’s not hurting anymore?”
“No.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her like he’d wanted to kiss her last night—deeply, passionately. When he pulled away, she was panting for breath. “I’m not a good guy,” he said. “Not anymore…”
And he pulled the sheet from her body.
*
SERENA SHIVERED—not because she was cold but because of the way Cody stared at her. His gaze was like a caress; she could feel it sliding over her skin. Her nipples tightened, begging for his touch. She needed his hands on her—his mouth.
But he stood up. Maybe he was having second thoughts and had remembered they’d agreed sleeping together would be a bad idea. She didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Cody…” She reached out for him.
But he stood firm. Then he jerked down his zipper and kicked off his pants and his boxers along with them. And he was naked—gloriously naked like he’d been the night she’d found him in the bathroom.
She hadn’t been able to get that image out of her mind or stop wanting him. Maybe sleeping with him would assuage that desire so she could focus again. “Cody…”
He didn’t crawl back into bed with her. He leaned over her instead, skimming his fingertips along her shoulders and then over her breasts. He touched her nipples, and she shifted against the mattress.
She needed him. She lifted her arms, reaching up for him. But he held back.
He trailed his fingers down her stomach and over the core of her. Through the lace he stroked her.
She squirmed as a pressure built, demanding release.
He hooked a finger in the lace and tugged the panties down her legs. Then finally he joined her in the bed—but only partially. His legs hung off the end of the mattress as he lifted her legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Then his lips moved over her like his fingers had. He teased her clit with his tongue.
She
ran her fingers through his hair and then down to his shoulders, clutching at them and trying to drag him up. He was driving her crazy. She wanted him inside, filling her. But then his tongue was there, sliding in and out. His hands moved up her body, and he took her nipples between the tips of his fingers—rolling and teasing them.
Her need for release intensified until she thought it might tear her apart. She reached up and wrapped her hands around the bars in the brass headboard, grasping tightly as he continued to sensually torment her to madness.
Then his tongue flicked over her clit before he closed his lips over and suckled it. One of his hands moved from her breasts, and he drove a finger—then two—inside her.
Finally the pressure—the intolerable pressure—broke. She cried out. And her body shuddered with the orgasmic release.
She lay limply against the mattress. He was good. So good…
She wanted to be good to him, too. So she summoned her strength and pulled him onto the bed with her. Then she pushed him onto his back. She moved her mouth over him, sliding her lips up and down the impressive, pulsing length of his erection.
His fingers moved through her tangled hair. “Serena…” But he didn’t come. Instead he pulled her up his body, her breasts brushing over his chest. That golden hair raised her nipples into tight buds again. He kissed her, his lips moving over hers—his teeth nibbling gently. Then his tongue flicked out, sliding over her lip as if to soothe the hurt. But he hadn’t hurt her.
She stroked his tongue with hers. They tangled. The kiss was hot and wet and as wild as he made her feel. And as he kissed her, he touched her—everywhere. His hands slid over her ass, cupping her buttocks. Then he moved a finger between her legs and stroked the core of her.
She gasped for breath as desire overwhelmed her again. Her heart pounded frantically. Despite the pleasure he’d already given her, she was greedy, desperate, for more. For him…
“I want you,” she murmured. “I want you inside me…”
He groaned. But instead of sliding into her, he pulled away—leaning out of the bed. Then he held up a condom.
