by Lisa Childs
She took it from his hand and tore open the packet with her teeth. Then she rolled it over him, her hand pumping him through the latex.
He groaned again. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m not going to last.”
Gently he pushed her onto her back. Then his body covered hers, and he nudged between her legs. She was wet and ready for him—her body already pulsing with her desperate need for another release. She parted her legs and arched as his cock slowly entered her. He was so big. So long…
He filled her. And then some.
Her body shuddered at the sensation—at the completeness she felt. Until he’d filled her, she hadn’t realized she’d been empty. Now she was full. But it wasn’t enough for him to just be inside her. She shifted beneath him, wanting more.
So he moved. He stroked in and out of her, driving deep. Then he pulled out and started all over again. She lifted her legs and locked them around his waist. And she grasped his broad shoulders.
He lowered his head and kissed her. She arched against him, rubbing her breasts over his chest. Then she raked her nails lightly down his back.
He shuddered. “Serena…”
She nipped his bottom lip. “You accused me of clawing and biting,” she reminded him.
“You’re wild,” he agreed. Then he reached between their bodies and stroked her clit.
And she went wild in his arms. She bucked and writhed, fighting for the release she needed. The pressure was wound so tightly inside her.
“You’re driving me crazy,” she told him.
He nipped her bottom lip—then the side of her neck. Then he hunched his back and lowered his head to pull a nipple into his mouth. All the while, he thrust his hips and continued to drive her crazy with the seductive rhythm.
She came apart in his arms—the intensity of the second orgasm overwhelming her. She’d never felt anything so fiercely. She cried out. But his mouth was there swallowing her cry. Then his body tensed and shuddered as he came.
They lay, tangled together on the bed, for several long moments before he moved. He slipped away for just a few minutes, long enough to clean up in her bathroom.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest. Like hers, it rose and fell with his struggle to regain his breath.
“Wow,” she murmured between pants. She knew now how he’d earned the reputation he had. He was an amazing lover.
But she’d actually never heard anyone say what kind of lover he was—just what a flirt. Was he like Tammy? All talk and no action? No. He definitely knew how to make love so that she couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything but pleasure.
Making love with him hadn’t been a bad idea. Falling for him would be, though. So she would make certain that wouldn’t happen. She would only use him to distract herself from her other problems.
Which he had. Very well.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You already thanked me,” he reminded her.
“I thanked you for bringing me home last night,” she said. “For not taking advantage of my drunkenness.”
“Why were you drinking?” he asked. “Seems out of character for you.”
She was glad he knew it wasn’t something she did often.
“Did it have anything to do with what happened at the bank?” he asked.
She tensed. “How do you know about that?” Wasn’t that all supposed to be confidential? “Do you know Gordon Townsend?”
He tensed now, and there was a strange harshness in his voice when he replied, “You mentioned him last night, but I have no idea who that is.”
“Gordon is one of the loan officers.”
“You were applying for a loan?”
She nodded.
“Why? I thought you inherited this house from your mom. Did she have a mortgage on it?”
“No.” Her great-great-grandfather had built it himself before mortgages even existed. As far as she knew there had never been one on it.
“Then why do you need one?” he asked. “To pay the lawsuit?”
“You know about that, too?” she asked.
“You told me last night.”
She wondered what else she’d said. How sexy he was?
How much she wanted him?
“Who sued you?” he asked.
Pain clutched her heart, and she blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “My twin sister.”
His green eyes widened with shock and pleasure. “There are two of you?”
“Don’t get any sick fantasies about us,” she warned him. “You won’t ever see Courtney in Northern Lakes again.” Growing up, she’d made no secret of how much she’d hated Northern Lakes—how boring she’d found it—and how she couldn’t wait to leave it and never return. “She didn’t even come home for Mom’s funeral last year.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his hand stroking her back soothingly. “So why is she suing you?”
“For half the value of the house.”
He nodded in understanding. “That’s why you wanted a mortgage.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “But because of the lawsuit, I can’t get one. The settlement is already a lien on the house.”
“So you’ll have to sell?”
“I can’t.” She refused to consider it; there had to be another way.
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s just a house.”
She pulled away from him and sat up, staring down. She was the one shocked now. She’d thought he’d gotten to know her at least a little bit, but apparently only well enough to know she wasn’t a drunk. How had she misjudged him so much, too? “How can you say that?”
His broad shoulders moved against the pillows in a big shrug. “Because it’s just a house,” he said dismissively. “I lived in a lot of them growing up.”
“Your family moved a lot?” She couldn’t imagine it. She’d even hated going away to college. But she’d had no choice once she’d taken all the nursing courses the community college had offered. She’d left for a little while, but she hadn’t been able to stay away. She’d been too homesick, so she’d dropped out.
“I didn’t have a family,” he said. “As a baby, I was left at a firehouse just like Annie was.”
Sympathy for him squeezed her heart. He had been abandoned. How could someone have just left him like that?
“I lived in a lot of foster homes for the first eighteen years of my life,” he continued.
“You were never adopted?” She couldn’t believe that. With as gorgeous a man as he’d become, he must have been an adorable child.
“I was once,” he said. “For a couple of years. I guess when I hit my terrible twos, they decided having a kid was too much for them, and they put me back in the system.”
So he had been abandoned again. Her heart ached for the pain he must have suffered. “Weren’t you adopted again?”
He shook his head. “No. I think that labeled me as a problem child. Hyperactive and attachment disorder or something…”
It sounded like his adoptive parents had had the attachment disorder. How could they have returned a child like they would have clothes they hadn’t worn?
“But that was fine. I liked the variety of living in those different foster homes,” he said, perhaps a little too emphatically, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as her. “I liked moving to new places, living with different people.”
“Really?” she asked doubtfully. It sounded like a nightmare to her.
“Yeah, I would have gotten bored always staying in one place,” he said. “That’s what I like about being a Hotshot—the travel.”
She knew that was part of the job. “You’ve been in Northern Lakes a lot this summer.”
“Because of the arsonist,” he said.
“He hasn’t set any more fires,” she said. At least none that she’d heard about. “Maybe he’s stopped…”
“Hopefully,” he said, but he sounded doubtful. “I’d hate to leave before he’s caught.”
&nb
sp; She tensed. “Leave?”
“I’m going to be interviewing for another job,” he said, “for a smoke jumper position that operates out of a base camp in Washington.”
“You would leave the Huron Hotshots.” She thought he was close to his coworkers. Even though they relentlessly needled each other, there was also affection apparent between them.
“It’s always been my goal to be a smoke jumper,” he said. “I just had to put in a couple of seasons as a Hotshot to get the experience necessary for the position.”
She’d been such an idiot for sleeping with him, and she didn’t have the excuse of still being drunk. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he wasn’t staying. But now that she’d slept with him, she wanted to do it again.
And again…
But that would only put her at greater risk of falling in love with him. And she couldn’t do that because then it would break her heart when he left—just like he’d warned her.
She had no one but herself to blame.
11
CODY WASN’T SURE what he’d expected after sleeping with Serena. But he’d at least hoped to do it again. Instead she’d frozen him out. She hadn’t let him close to her since that hot, amazing morning when they’d had sex.
That was all it had been. Had she wanted more? Had she thought he’d declare his undying love and stick around—to help her with the house?
He wasn’t that kind of guy. As he’d told her, he didn’t get why she was so upset about the place. It was just a house, though clearly it meant a lot to her because it had been in her family so long.
But it was also a money pit. Once she’d had the air-conditioning fixed, the roof had started leaking. He wasn’t sure why she wanted to hang on to a place that was so old it was falling apart.
She was too young to tie herself down. She hadn’t been out since that night she’d gone to the Filling Station.
Of course it had only been a few days. But that seemed like an eternity to him. He had to go to town to get away from her because being around her and not being with her, inside her…
That was driving him crazy. He’d never been so on edge—so achy and needy. He knew now how it could be between them—how wild and wonderful…
So why didn’t she want to do it again?
Hadn’t she enjoyed it?
Maybe he should have taken more time—given her more orgasms. He could if she gave him another chance. But he was too proud to ask, to force his attention on someone who clearly didn’t want it.
Annie begged for attention, bouncing beside him as he walked to his truck. Stanley was already at the firehouse, washing trucks. It was just his summer job until he would start college in the fall. He was working to pay his tuition. Cody would find a way to help him out with what he couldn’t afford, just like he’d helped him out with his room and board. Serena had been instrumental in that, though.
She had understood his need to help Stanley, even though Cody wasn’t certain he understood it. Maybe it was because when Stanley had come to that last group home Cody felt like a big brother to him.
Yeah, he would find some way to help the kid with tuition—even if he had to force a loan on him. Cody had money. As a Hotshot, he worked crazy overtime. And because the US Forest Service had provided a cabin, he’d had few expenses. Just his truck.
He climbed into it now and slid the key in the ignition. Braden and the assistant superintendents were given US Forest Service trucks to drive, but Cody preferred having his own. He’d put a lift kit on it and jacked it up. With its big tires and clearance, it could get through parts of the forest that the official trucks could not.
Those tires spun in the muddy driveway as he headed away from the house. He’d had enough of Serena’s silent treatment. She was clearly mad at him.
That was fine. They would never see eye to eye on the house or his need to travel. So it was good that he would be leaving soon. He just had to check in at the firehouse before taking off to Washington for that interview.
Maybe he should have told her he’d be gone for a while. But she hadn’t been receptive to any of his other attempts at conversation.
Or at anything else…
Had she seen him leaving with his bag?
He glanced back at the house. But he couldn’t see it through the trees. He could have turned around, gone back and told her.
But instead he revved the engine and tore out of the driveway onto the street, tires squealing and mud flying behind him. He was mad now. He was mad that she was mad.
He’d been straight with her from the beginning. He’d told her that they were a bad idea. But she’d wanted to make love with him. Of course she’d been drunk then. She hadn’t turned him down the next morning, though—when she’d sobered up.
Still…
He could have just brought her the coffee and aspirin and left. He was the one who’d initiated the sex, who wanted more.
Hell, he wasn’t upset at her. He was disgusted with himself for being such an idiot. He didn’t often get mad anymore, not like when he’d been a kid quick to anger. His temper was probably why they’d moved him so often. So he’d learned to control it. For the most part.
But when his temper flared, he felt like that hothead again. His foot pressed harder on the accelerator. He was the teenager who’d driven too fast, too carelessly—who’d wrecked cars.
He eased his foot off as the road curved. He wasn’t that hothead anymore. He was older. Wiser.
But the truck didn’t slow down. He moved his foot from the accelerator to the brake. But the pedal hit the floor with no resistance—with no effect.
The brakes were gone. And the curve was too sharp for him to maneuver at this speed. He cursed and braced himself for the crash he wouldn’t be able to avoid.
*
SERENA CURSED HERSELF. She’d been such a bitch to Cody since that morning he’d given her pleasure like she’d never felt before.
It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t care about the house. He’d never had a home, so how could she expect him to understand and commiserate with her about the possibility of losing hers?
But that wasn’t the only reason she’d frozen him out. She hadn’t wanted to get used to him being around and making love with her when she knew he wasn’t going to stay. But she hadn’t expected him to leave so soon. He’d been carrying his duffel bag with him when he’d left the house.
She always respected her boarders’ privacy. But Cody wasn’t just a boarder—not after that morning. He was her lover, too. Or he would be if she hadn’t been such a bitch. So she ignored her flash of guilt as she reached for the doorknob of his room. She’d brought the key, but she didn’t need it. The knob turned easily.
Of course he wouldn’t have bothered locking it behind him if he’d moved out. He wouldn’t have left anything for anyone to take. Not that he’d brought much stuff with him anyway. He traveled light so he could travel easily.
He’d told her that, too.
She stepped inside the room. The bed wasn’t made; the sheets were tangled as if, like she had, he’d struggled to sleep. She had washed her sheets, but she could still smell him in her bed, still feel his arms around her, whenever she tried to sleep.
She could smell him in his room. She found herself picking up his pillow from the floor. She held it against her chest. But it wasn’t like holding him.
He’d left some things on the side table. A watch. A phone case. A picture. She picked up the frame and stared at all the smiling faces of the Hotshot team.
Did he really intend to leave them? To leave Northern Lakes?
Probably. But she didn’t suspect today was the day. He’d left too much behind—at least for him—to have moved out. He would come back.
Wouldn’t he?
He’d left his window open, too—the curtain rustled in the breeze. Once she’d fixed the air conditioner, the heat wave had broken. It had rained, too. Maybe that had cooled down the temperature.
T
he rain had made the driveway muddy and the roads slick. Through that open window, she heard the sound of a crash—the sickening crunch of metal and the blare of a car horn. It could have been someone else.
But Cody had just left. So she knew it had to be him. As if Annie knew, too, she began to howl. Serena rushed down the stairs and out the front door. Her car was parked where Fiona and Wyatt had left it when they’d driven it back for her a few days ago.
The keys dangled from the ignition. She started the car and tore out of the driveway—just like Cody had moments ago. She should have stopped, grabbed her purse. She didn’t care that she didn’t have her driver’s license, but maybe she would need her phone to call for help.
At least she had a first aid kit in the trunk. She knew to always have that with her. She was afraid she would need it, especially as she turned the corner and saw the crash site. There were no skid marks on the road. It was like he’d just missed the curve and driven off into the trees. The front of the truck was crumpled against the thick trunk of one—steam rising from beneath its hood.
She pulled off to the shoulder of the road and threw open her door. “Cody!”
Was he okay? Could he hear her?
She hurried over to the truck, worried that she would find him slumped over the wheel. Or worse yet, with his head smashed through the broken windshield. His truck was too old to be equipped with air bags. He’d had no protection when he’d hit the tree head-on like he had.
Her heart pounded fast and frantically. She was so scared that she might have lost him. She braced herself before looking through the broken driver’s door window. But the truck was empty. His door was crumpled but the passenger door stood open.
“Cody!” she yelled for him again.
He came around the side of the vehicle, blood trickling from his forehead like it had the night she’d found him on the bathroom floor. She reached out for the wound, her fingertips touching a jagged piece of glass. She needed her first aid kit.
But she didn’t want to leave his side—not until she was certain he wouldn’t pass out. He obviously had another head wound. What about internal injuries?
He could have broken his ribs on the steering wheel; he could have ruptured organs.
