Usually, she got so much done in her little home office—but not today. Today, Olivia couldn’t focus to save her life.
She’d tried doing the things that usually helped her relax and refocus—drinking her favorite hot tea, meditating, a quick run down in the fitness room—but nothing worked. Her mind was like a playlist with a single track on it, stuck on repeat: Erik Grady, Erik Grady, Erik Grady…
It seemed as though nothing would relieve her of this new obsession her brain had. At any given point in the day, she wondered what he might be up to. If he was doing well or struggling with his past. Hanging out at home or out with his friends. Whether he spent his nights alone…or with other women.
And those thoughts in particular always gave her the sudden urge to claw the eyes out of every female in a three-block radius. That sort of thing was more Angie’s style, not Olivia’s. Olivia had always been the picture of calm and reason to her Latina friend’s displays of emotionally driven melodrama. That was, until recently.
For the hundredth time in five days, she wished she could go back in time to when Erik asked who the man was in the photo. She’d tell him this time. She’d bite the bullet and open herself up and take the chance that it might ruin things between them, because not telling him hadn’t been any better.
Part of her balked at the idea of opening herself up beyond the basic new date chitchat. It wasn’t like Erik had given her even that much on Saturday. She didn’t know much about him other than what was in his psychiatric file and the little things she’d picked up on from his messages to her over the last month.
But then the other part of her said it shouldn’t matter that he hadn’t given her anything personal yet. Growing up with her father and Uncle Eddie, both former Marines, Olivia understood that people who served in the military were often incredibly private, and the only people who truly knew them were family and their fellow service members. They ate, slept, and breathed esprit de corps, and if you weren’t a part of that group, you might as well be the enemy. So it wasn’t probable that a man like Erik would willingly offer up anything that could make him vulnerable, which, to a man like Erik, was pretty much everything.
Sighing, Olivia closed her laptop. It was after ten o’clock at night, and she could already tell a certain man-slash-wolf would be running through her mind instead of sinking into a deep slumber if she tried turning in for the night. Maybe another cup of chamomile (with a splash of Robbie’s whiskey) would help things along. If that didn’t work, she’d need to break out the big guns: Benadryl.
Satisfied with her new plan, she shoved her feet into her fuzzy slippers, pulled her lightweight robe on over her thin tank and sleep shorts, and shuffled into the kitchen. She flipped the switch on her electric teakettle to start the water and almost had heart failure when her cell phone rang from where she’d left it on the coffee table. Figuring Angie wanted to firm up their lunch plans for the next day, Olivia hurried over and swiped to connect the call before she lost it to voicemail. Angie hated going into voicemail.
“Hey, babe, what’s up?” she said as she flopped onto the couch, earning an annoyed look from a previously sleeping Jerrys.
“I thought that was my line.”
Olivia froze. That was not the lively, chipper voice of her best friend. Low and gruff, it caused things that couldn’t possibly exist to take flight in her stomach. “Erik?”
“Hey, gorgeous. Good to hear your voice again. Sorry it took so long for me to call.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I mean, no, I wasn’t expecting you to call so— There’s just no reason for you to apologize, is what I’m saying.” God, Livvie, talk much? For shit’s sake, you sound like an idiot.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Livvie,” he said with a hint of a sigh. “I do need to apologize. That’s why I’m calling. I acted like an asshole the other night. I should’ve never pushed about that picture. It’s none of my business, and I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she said. “You were right. It was an innocent question that should have had a simple answer.”
The tension from not speaking to him for so long drained from her body as she tucked herself into the corner of the couch and pulled her favorite fuzzy throw over her legs. Jerrys instantly moved to the nicer real estate on her lap and then curled back into a ball before promptly going back to sleep. Taking a deep breath, Olivia took a leap of faith. “He was my husband.”
Silence rang out louder than the cannons from the USS Constitution. “Husband,” he repeated slowly, almost as though he couldn’t quite process the information, then she heard him blow out a breath. “What happened between you? Because I have to tell you, it feels like he hurt you somehow. Like you have pieces of you that are damaged, and it drives me crazy to see that, Livvie.”
She didn’t realize he’d thought that about her, but it made sense considering how they’d met, and she’d never corrected his assumption that she’d simply had a relationship end badly. Then again, it didn’t get much worse when your other half was suddenly taken from you.
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “Brett was killed in a car accident two years ago.”
“Fuck, baby, I’m so goddamn sorry.” The rasp of his hand dragging over his stubble came through the phone. “I understand if you don’t feel comfortable talking to me about this yet, but…I hope that someday you will be.”
Olivia’s heart melted. Erik Grady was more compassionate than she ever could have hoped for, and suddenly she couldn’t hold things back from him any longer. Everything spilled out.
She told him how they’d met her freshman year in college and been friends and study partners for six months before they even had their first date, but then were pretty much inseparable: a power couple, their friends liked to tease. After years of dating, marriage became a forgone conclusion, the next step in the ten-year plan Brett had plotted out. One that she’d helped make but didn’t necessarily agree with every step—like the one about having children that was set for years later than she preferred.
“Part of me will always mourn him, but I’ve worked through the worst of it. Brett and I were college sweethearts and got married at a young age. In retrospect, we probably wouldn’t have made it into our thirties as a married couple. I loved him—he was a great man, and an even better friend—but we just weren’t compatible in a lot of ways.
“Regardless, I was devastated when I lost him, and it wasn’t until recently that I even started dating again. Any physical intimacy made me feel like I was being disloyal to Brett. I just couldn’t seem to get past it, but…” Olivia paused. “When I’m with you, Erik, you’re the only one I’m thinking about. You consume all of my senses,” she said softly. “There’s no room for anything or anyone else.”
She heard him curse softly on the other end. “I can’t tell you how fucking glad I am to hear that, Livvie.”
He hadn’t run. He was still on the phone, still talking to her. The crushing weight no longer sat on her chest. She had no more secrets. She felt light…and free. Free to finally be with someone on a deeper level. To be with Erik. “I wanted to tell you before, but in the past—well, let’s just say the conversation has a tendency to chase men away.”
A warm chuckle floated through her phone. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sweetheart, but I’m kind of hard to get rid of where you’re concerned. I’m like a dog with a very sexy bone.”
“Or a wolf,” she said to herself in the barest of whispers.
“Exactly. Just like a wolf, when I see something I want, I go after it with a single-minded purpose. And I want you, Livvie. All of you.”
The air in her apartment suddenly felt thin, and taking a full breath was more of a struggle than it ought to be while immobile. His words made her hope for things she thought she’d never have again, and it rendered her momentarily speechless. Thankfully, he didn’t mention the lull in conversation and continued talking.
“I want to ask you some
thing, but I realize it might be too personal, so tell me if you’d rather not answer.”
Clearing her throat, she finally managed, “Okay.”
“What was your love life like with him? Because someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be as insecure as you are.”
Olivia dragged her lower lip across her teeth as she thought of what to tell him. Her relationship with Brett had never been the kind that burned bright and hot with passion, whether in the bedroom or out. It was more like having the steady warmth of an electric blanket, knowing it would always feel the same—comfortable and reliable. It hadn’t been bad; it just hadn’t been great.
“I guess I’d say it was average?” Crap, she didn’t mean that to sound like a question. “I mean, it wasn’t anything like, um… It was, you know, good.”
“Has any man ever told you you’re the most breathtaking woman on the planet, that the curve of your waist was made for his hands or the delicate skin of your neck calls to him like a drug to an addict?” Erik had pressed. “Ever had a man worship your body with his hands and his mouth until you felt boneless with pleasure?”
Hearing those words, gruff and sensual, made her breath catch in surprise, and before she could release it, lust spread through her chest and much lower until she had to squeeze her legs to relieve some of the aching there.
“No,” she’d whispered.
“Ever grab you from behind, remind you who you belong to, and then devour you up against the wall like a man starved?”
She shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her. “No.”
That’s when his tone became a tad acrimonious. “Part of me is pissed off at that, Livvie. You deserved to hear those things, deserved to feel special and desired. But another part of me is glad as hell that I’ll be the first one to make you feel like the goddess you are. And I can’t fucking wait to show you all the ways I can make you melt beneath me.”
“Me, either,” she rasped. Erik exhaled sharply and cursed under his breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just got carried away is all. It’s damn near impossible to control myself where you’re concerned. I called to apologize and tell you that I’m going to give you space or time or whatever it is you need. When you’re ready, you let me know, and we’ll go from there.”
Before she could overthink it and change her mind, she blurted out, “I don’t want that.”
He spoke slowly, like his words were navigating an audible minefield. “Don’t want what, exactly?”
“I don’t want you to give me space. I’ve been kicking myself all week for being so bullheaded, and I wanted to be the one to call and apologize, but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, and—”
“Livvie.” He practically barked her name to get her to shut up, but she responded instantly. “You seem to have a real problem with believing me. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not giving up that easily?”
Olivia bit the tip of her thumb in a variation of the pinch-for-reality-verification trick, then spoke hesitantly. “Maybe once more?” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it sounded like he might be growling on his end of the line. In her limited Wolf experience, that was either very bad…or very good.
“Tell you what. I have offsite Rapid Intervention training all day tomorrow, but after that I think I should come over.”
“You do?” she asked, all breathy and…well, just breathy was bad enough. She cleared her throat and tried sounding like a normal human. “You do?”
“I do,” he repeated. “We have some business to take care of.”
“And what kind of business would that be?”
“The kind where I make sure you understand, once and for all, just how serious I am about being with you.” Olivia’s stomach clenched. But then his voice turned even gruffer and his next statement made a part of her lower than that clench, too. “The kind that’ll make your ass pink and your pussy wet, and that’s only the foreplay.”
Holy shit. If he kept talking like that, this would be yet another round of foreplay to the hot-as-hell sex. Holy double shit. Tomorrow night, there would be hot-as-hell sex. And not the anonymous strangers in a one-night stand kind of sex. The kind that had been building up for weeks with every voicemail, email, text, and encounter they’d had. It’d be like touching a match to a gasoline-soaked pile of wood.
“I’ll be there by six, Livvie. Be waiting for me. And make sure you’re not wearing anything you want to keep intact.”
“Okay,” she answered breathily. Squeezing her legs together ceased offering any sort of relief. At this point, she’d have to take care of things herself as soon as they were off the phone. But somehow he sensed her frustration, and whether it was a damn good guess or his wolfish instincts, he put an end to that plan instantly.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight, Livvie,” he growled. “That orgasm belongs to me. And when I’m good and ready to watch you come undone for me, I’m going to take it from you.”
Chapter Eleven
Olivia tried to concentrate on the book in her hands, but she’d already read the same page four times and still had no idea what the hell it said. Worrying her lip with her teeth, she pushed the button on her phone to illuminate the screen. Erik was supposed to have showed up an hour ago so they could pick up where they left off the week before. At least that’s what he’d said last night.
Just the thought of their conversation the night before made butterflies erupt in her belly.
Damn, damn, damn… Just thinking about that part of the call was getting her worked up all over again. Where the hell was he? Maybe he had reconsidered…?
No, if he could make it, he would. She needed to stop doubting him every time her insecurities wanted to toss in their two cents. She needed to stop having insecurities, period. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done, but definitely something she’d work on.
The problem was that she was a worrier by nature. So if he wasn’t purposely standing her up, then her mind automatically switched to thinking that something bad happened, which didn’t help her frayed nerves in the least.
Taking a long, steadying breath, Olivia brainstormed a logical reason as to why Erik wasn’t there. She exhaled slowly and decided that after a hard day of training, he sat on the couch at the station to relax for a few minutes and then passed out from exhaustion. Yes, that was it. And that was completely understandable.
She just wished he’d have made it to her apartment first. She’d gladly take care of him as he unwound; maybe she’d rub tension out of his shoulders or let him rest his head in her lap so she could absentmindedly trail her fingertips over his soft buzz cut while they watched TV.
She’d gotten home earlier than usual today and had already taken her nervous energy out on her apartment—it could now pass for one of the model apartments that no one lived in—and then she’d attacked poor Ben and Jerrys with a brush. It was true they were overdue for a good grooming, but judging by the plastic bag filled with black, white, and orange fur, they were lucky they had any still attached to their bodies. Her beloved pets had been hunkered together under her bed for the last two hours, probably fearing for what little fur they had left.
Crap, this was driving her crazy. Her fingers itched to call him and put herself out of her neurotic misery, but she’d managed to restrain herself thus far, and she’d continue to do so, damn it. She needed something that could take her mind off of the waiting and wondering.
That’s when her gaze snagged on the bottle of Jameson she’d picked up for when Erik arrived. Maybe drinking a few fingers of whiskey would take the edge off. At the very least, it would take all her concentration to get it down without choking to death. Perfect.
Thirty minutes later, she needed a distraction from her distraction (she was pretty sure her throat was literally on fire) and took that opportunity to glance at the time on her phone when someone pounded on her door, followed by a booming voice that easily penetrated the solid b
arrier. “Fire department, open up.”
Jumping up in giddy relief from the bar stool, she almost knocked over the glass of whiskey that still held one and a half of the two fingers she poured herself (seriously, that stuff was nasty) before composing herself to react like the mature adult she was. But mature or not, she wasn’t above holding out on him and making him squirm—just a little—to get back at him for her shot nerves.
“I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken,” she called back. “I didn’t call the fire department. Mrs. Peters down the hall probably did, though. You should check with her.”
Olivia heard the distant sound of a door slamming—oddly enough in the direction of where Mrs. Peters’s apartment was located—and then heard a low command uttered barely loud enough for her to make out the words. “Unlock this door, gorgeous, or I’m breaking it down.”
Okay, screw payback, she’d waited for him long enough. She reached out, threw the deadbolt, and immediately hopped back when the door swung open like a gale-force wind was behind it. She was dimly aware of it being kicked shut, but most of her brainpower was totally focused on taking in the sight of the hottest thing she’d ever seen: Erik, standing in her neat little apartment, larger than life and fully dressed in his bunker gear.
Ho…ly…shit. She’d imagined him in his ranger kit before, certain it would melt her panties to see him geared up and ready for battle, but she never thought she’d find his turnout gear so damn sexy. He stood there, massive, like a first-responder god, dressed head to toe in bulky black attire striped with bands of reflective yellow. The coat hung open, revealing a tucked-in navy blue BFD T-shirt, and his helmet dangled from the fingertips of one hand.
“Why are you dressed like that?” she rasped through a suddenly dry throat.
“Training took for-fucking-ever.” Setting his helmet on the counter, he pulled his cell from a pocket and held it up before tossing it on the counter. “Totally dead, or I would’ve called. Couldn’t wait. Guys dropped me off.”
Hot for the Fireman Page 15
