Burn For Me: Into The Fire Series

by Croix, J. H.

I felt driven—driven by years of missing her, by years of empty sex with women who meant next to nothing, and by years of anger and resentment at what we’d lost and to nothing but someone else’s lies. I hung on to the thinnest thread of control as I stood there, my cock hard and my body nearly a slave to my need for her. After a few beats, I took another step, crowding against her. I could feel the fine shudder running through her body.

  Her skin was still flushed, and her hair a tousled mess from chopping wood. Raw need lashed at me. I told myself I couldn’t let things go too far. Not right now. But I wouldn’t forgo a taste of what I wanted so desperately.

  She backed away, and I followed. Only a few steps, and her hips bumped into the counter. I freed her hand and slid both of mine roughly down her sides to curl around her hips and lift her onto the counter.

  “Cade.”

  She said my name as if it were a plea—rough and raspy.

  “Lia.”

  Her name came out rough and harsh, weighted with years of need, longing, anger and regret.

  I tugged her hips to the edge of the counter and stepped between her knees. I might be half out of my mind, but I needed to give her a chance to tell me to back the hell off.

  “Tell me you don’t want this,” I murmured.

  Her flush deepened. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “What do you want?”

  She swallowed as my hands slid over the curves of her hips and up her sides. I palmed one of her breasts, savoring its lush, heavy weight.

  She hadn’t answered me yet. I dragged my thumb back and forth across her nipple, taut and erect through my t-shirt. “You’re not answering me.”

  I didn’t know who I was right now. We’d always been a bit wild when it came to sex—riding the rough edge. Amelia was such a force in everything and sex was no exception. With us, it was like match after match after match to the flames between us. Yet, even with the memory of what it had been like with her, I was teetering on a dangerous edge now. With a tumult of emotions lashing at me, I was at the edge of my restraint. I had to know she was as wrecked as I was.

  Still toying with her nipple with one hand, I slipped the other up around her neck, lacing it into her tousled hair. My thumb brushed over the wild beat of her pulse. “Lia…come on. Don’t hide from me.”

  “I want you,” she finally said, her eyes flashing with need and something else.

  “It’s just like I said when you found me. I might’ve been drunk and a mess, but it was the truth. It’s always been you. No one else. To everyone else, I’m too…” She stopped, anger flashing in her eyes.

  I couldn’t help it and arched into her, almost groaning at the feel of her heated core. She murmured something and then tilted her eyes up. I thought she meant to say something. Instead, she yanked me to her, our mouths colliding in a fierce kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  Amelia

  I tumbled into the madness of Cade’s kiss. He’d always been a good kisser—a mix of rough and tender—but he was a damn master at it now. Deep sweeps of his tongue against mine, nibbles on my lower lip, slow traces of my lips—hot, wet and overpowering. My senses were obliterated to the point I didn’t even notice when he yanked the t-shirt over my head. Hell, I hadn’t realized I’d already shoved his shirt off until he stepped closer, and I groaned at the feel of his hard muscled chest against me. His skin was hot and smooth. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to have gotten more fit since I’d known him before, but either my memory failed me, or he had. He was hard muscle all over, and I couldn’t get enough. I so often felt too large, too tall and ungainly around other men. I never felt like that with Cade.

  Cade was actually taller than me, but it wasn’t that. Somehow, he made me feel encompassed in his embrace whenever I was with him. I certainly didn’t need any protecting, but I felt protected when I was with him—as if he’d fend anything off. The feeling gave me an odd sense of freedom, as if I could let go in a way I didn’t usually. The feeling was so rare, I collapsed into it and let myself be swept into the madness that existed only with him.

  His lips blazed a wet trail of fire down along my neck, while I mapped his chest with my hands, savoring every hard planed muscle. I cried out when he yanked my bra off and closed his warm mouth over a nipple. I almost came from that alone. I hadn’t had an orgasm with anything other than my vibrator for seven years, along with everything else that went with the bitterness of our break up. All I wanted was him. Now.

  I dragged my hand over the bulge of his cock, savoring his rough groan against my skin. He lifted his head, his dark green gaze locking with mine. He’d already torn the buttons of my jeans open and teased me mercilessly by dragging his fingers back and forth over the denim, but now he hooked a finger over the edge of my underwear and sifted down through my curls, straight into my drenched folds.

  I didn’t even bother to hide my groan. I was so far gone, I didn’t care.

  Cade’s forehead fell to mine, his lips a whisper away. “You’re so wet,” he murmured.

  My only response was a moan when he dragged his thumb across my clit—just once and just enough to make me nearly lose it. He sank a finger into me, driving deep. I cried out, my hips rolling into his touch. Another finger joined the first and he toyed with me, spreading and teasing me, his thumb flitting across my clit.

  I chased after my release, but he held me back, bringing me to the precipice and then pulling back. Nearly wild with need and desperate, I swore.

  “Cade, if you don’t…”

  He chuckled. “That’s my girl. I love it when you get mad.”

  That did it. I slipped my hand into his briefs, sighing at the hot velvety skin over his hard cock. His breath hissed and he stopped teasing me. He drove into me deeply, fucking me with his fingers and sending me spinning in a burst of sharp pleasure.

  Chapter Ten

  Cade

  I stared down at Amelia, my heart tightening amidst its thunderous beat. Damn. Amelia was glorious when she let go. Her throaty cry was music to my body, strumming every fiber. She sat before me on the counter, her long legs curled around my hips, her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen. Her channel clenched around my fingers, its pulses slowing. My gaze dipped down to her breasts—full and lush, her nipples damp and dusky pink. I hadn’t forgotten any of her, yet everything had faded. The sharpness of now pierced me straight through the heart. All of her—how she looked, how she felt, the way we felt together—was blinding in its shimmering brightness, and I could barely catch my breath.

  She sighed, her legs relaxing around my hips. I managed to drag my eyes up to find hers waiting. Before I had a chance to form a thought, she was shoving my jeans down around my hips, and my cock bounced free. Amelia pushed me back swiftly as she shimmied her hips off the counter. Her hand stroked me lightly before she dragged her tongue up one side and down the other. My knees almost gave out when she looked up. Her lashes were glinted with gold from the sun angling through the windows, framing her eyes dark with desire and a hint of mischief there. She loved having me at her mercy and knew quite well she had me there now with my cock in her fist and her lips a mere inch away.

  She waited a beat—her eyes locked to mine—and then dipped her head, swirling her tongue around the end of my cock and drawing me into her mouth. I’d have liked to think I had more control. Hell, I was way past being young and quick. But I’d gone seven long years without the one and only woman who could slay me—body, heart and soul. Her warm mouth around me—her tongue and lips making naughty with me—and I was so close to release, I gritted my teeth. Another slow drag of her tongue along the underside of my cock before she drew me in again, and that was it. My release thundered through me.

  Amelia slowly drew back, not batting an eye at the fact I’d just spent myself in her mouth. She’d never been a prude before and wasn’t now. She straightened and leaned her hips on the counter. Somewhere in the midst of my roaring release, I’d rested my hands on the counter beh
ind her, leaving her standing in the cage of my arms. My breath heaved a few more times as I tried to get back to some place of control. I finally straightened and met her eyes. The corner of her mouth curled in a smile, her cheeks pinkening slightly.

  Watching her, I wrestled with what I wanted—to lift her in my arms and cart her upstairs to where I figured there must be a bed. Taking that step seemed almost dangerous—too intimate, too much of what I wanted, too much of everything I wasn’t sure I could have. Not until we took the time to untangle the mess of regret and misunderstanding between us. It was one thing to state the facts of what happened—a well-timed fabrication sent us spinning away from each other—and yet another thing to get through to the other side of the emotional mess between us with years apart layered on top of it.

  We stood like that for several minutes. Amelia’s half-smile faded, and she started to look anxious. She masked it well, but I knew her probably better than I knew myself. I shook my head. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” she countered.

  “Don’t go wherever it is you’re going in your head. I didn’t mean to, well, let things get out of hand, but it’s not like we don’t both know what’s right here between us.”

  She was quiet and finally nodded. It should have felt awkward—hell, we’d just about lost ourselves in each other—but it didn’t. I tried to recall the last time I hadn’t practically raced away from a woman I’d been skin to skin with and couldn’t recall a single one…except for Amelia.

  I stepped back, trailing my fingers along her arm, a subtle buzz of satisfaction rolling through me when I felt her skin pebble under my touch. I forced myself to take another step back and leaned down to snag her shirt off the floor. Rather, it was my shirt, but she was wearing it. I gained an odd sense of satisfaction to know she’d been wearing my clothes.

  After she’d hidden her way too tempting breasts behind her bra and my shirt and I’d buttoned my jeans, she rounded the low counter and glanced over her shoulder. “Coffee? Or something else?”

  I stared at her and found myself nodding because I didn’t know what else to do. What was the usual thing to do when I’d missed her fiercely for seven years, when I had plenty of resentment at the way she’d shut me out without a chance to set the story straight, and when I’d finally been able to give into what I’d missed almost as much as I’d miss air if I couldn’t breathe?

  Well, it seemed the mundane was the best option, so coffee it was. I hooked my boot over the rung of a stool and tugged it away from the counter. Sliding onto it, I leaned on an elbow and watched her start the coffee.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amelia

  I stepped to the ground and carefully brought the extension ladder down from the roof. I was finishing up a roof replacement project today. I’d hitched a ride back to town with Cade after he’d stopped by and proceeded to remind me so very thoroughly of why I’d never gotten over him. I’d called my mom to let her know I was back. My mom had been restrained with her questions for me, but I knew she had to be worried, seeing as I’d walked out on my wedding. I figured I’d have to barrel through the gossip I’d created by dumping Earl. Work gave me something to do. Aside from that, I could barely stop obsessing about Cade, so I needed something to keep me busy.

  I glanced over to see Lucy Caldwell leaning against our work truck. Lucy with her blonde hair, blue eyes and curvy figure that she hid effectively in her heavy duty construction gear. Lucy was kind enough to not pester me with questions when I said I’d be meeting her at the job site today. Lucy was my sole full-time employee in the small construction company I started about five years ago. Kick A** Construction was its name—one I’d chosen as a play on the common bumper stickers in Alaska bearing the phrase Alaskan Girls Kick Ass.

  I had always loved working outside and loved to build. When I was little, my very first project had been a doghouse for the family dog, Dora. It had been lopsided, and my mother and Quinn had helped right it, but it had been the most fun I’d ever had. As life rolled along, I kept taking on little projects here and there. I went to college in Anchorage, heavy in the middle of my heady love with Cade, and majored in architecture. After everything blew up with Cade, I’d been at loose ends. At the time, we’d recently moved back to Willow Brook. I’d taken a job at the Firehouse Café, a local coffee shop and restaurant, and had been casting about for what to do. Cade had been scheduled to leave for a full year of training to become a hotshot firefighter in California. We’d talked about whether I might move with him, but money had been tight at the time.

  It had never occurred to me our relationship might blow apart. He’d taken that flight to California, and I’d been so damn angry, I could hardly see straight. In between shifts at the café, I started picking up odd jobs as a contractor. Before I knew it, I was doing that full-time and had to make some choices about making my business official. Kick A** Construction was formed. At first, it had been just me. My small jobs led to recommendations for bigger jobs, and I needed help. I’d known Lucy in passing then. Lucy had moved to Alaska when we were in high school, a point when my circle of friends had been pretty set. Shannon, my once upon a time friend who betrayed me so horribly, had blown that circle to smithereens.

  Lucy overheard me worrying about how many jobs I could do at the café one day and offered to help. We made a kick ass team.

  I gave her a wave and hooked the ladder under my arm, walking across the yard to heft it atop the truck. Without a word, Lucy reached up to help me guide it on the racks and adjust the fittings to hold it in place.

  We leaned against the tailgate. I surveyed the new roof we’d installed on the small home. “Looks good.”

  Lucy giggled. “Roofs don’t need to look good, although this one does if only because it’s red. Roofs are like shoes. You need them. They’re practical, but they don’t need to be pretty.”

  I looked to Lucy and shook my head. “Can’t I enjoy the fact it’s pretty? I mean, the red looks nice in the trees,” I said, gesturing toward the red steel roof.

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Of course you can enjoy it. Just pointing out that it’s a roof. It needs to keep the elements out.” She glanced down at her watch and brushed a streak of dirt off her arm. “It’s only noon. Should we head over to get started at the Jacobson’s job or wait until tomorrow?”

  We were scheduled to start a new house project this week. I eyed Lucy, considering her question. “Let’s start tomorrow. I’d like to take another look at the drawings and stop by Denali Builders to make sure all of our orders are lined up.”

  Lucy nodded. “Sounds good. Wanna grab some lunch first?”

  “Sure. Firehouse?”

  At Lucy’s nod, we climbed into the truck. A short drive into downtown and I rolled into a parking spot in front of Firehouse Café. Downtown Willow Brook was picturesque, situated in a valley in the foothills of the Alaska Range with Swan Lake in view. The lake was fed from several streams rolling downhill from the distant mountains and offered a gorgeous view in all seasons. The lake was the entire reason Willow Brook was founded. It offered fresh water and fishing all summer long. The town’s convenience to Anchorage allowed residents to enjoy the benefits of living in a small, wilder area, yet the ability to run to Anchorage within a day for errands. Tourists passed through and kept local businesses quite busy from spring through autumn, yet the town retained its small feel with only a core group of year-round residents.

  I climbed out of the truck and glanced around. Firehouse Café was on Main Street. It was actually housed in the town’s old fire station. It was a tall square building with the old garage turned into a seating area for dining and an open style bakery and kitchen. The fire poles were painted brightly with fireweed flowers, the finishing touches on the bright colors throughout the café with the window frames in a variety of colors and artwork hung on the walls. Square wooden tables were scattered about for seating with a counter offering additional seating where customers had a clear view into the kit
chen and bakery. The bright colors livened up the long, dark winters.

  No matter the season, Firehouse Café was busy. Lucy spied a table opening up in the corner and dashed across the restaurant to snag it. She grinned widely when I caught up and slipped into the chair across from her. “Hope you didn’t trip anyone else on the way to the table,” I commented with a shake of my head.

  Lucy giggled and reached up to adjust her ponytail. If you overlooked her clothes—usually battered jeans and t-shirts and hardly ever feminine—you might think she was fragile. With her blonde hair, bright blue eyes and creamy complexion, she was beautiful. She had a girly giggle and was on the short side. Yet, she was as tomboy as anyone I’d ever known. She ignored her looks and didn’t do a thing to show them off. She was a damn hard worker and never flinched at getting dirty or swinging a hammer all day long. I loved working with her and felt lucky Lucy had overheard my conversation that day. Lucy had become my best friend too. Seeing as we spent a ton of time together, that was a major bonus.

  “Hey girls! Two coffees?” Janet James asked as she passed our table with a tray full of dirty dishes. Janet was the owner of the café and was there almost all the time.

  “You got it,” I said quickly.

  “Give me a few,” Janet said as she walked swiftly to the counter and slipped behind it, disappearing through a swinging door.

  A line cook was busy at the grill, swiftly sliding food onto plates, which were whisked away by the waitress. I scanned the café, a bit relieved I didn’t see anyone I knew too well. Oh, I knew most everyone at a glance, but I’d been laying low in the days since I’d come back on the heels of my disastrous wedding that never was. Lucy took a call on her phone, and my mind instantly skipped to Cade. This was becoming a problem. If I didn’t have something to do or someone to talk to, Cade strolled into my thoughts—bold as ever.