She shifted the Band-Aid box to where it originally sat, tugged on the shorts Reece had loaned her, and pulled the shirt over her head. The soft cotton of the shirt brushed past her nose and carried the delicious scent of clean laundry and something she could only describe as Reece. Her eyes fluttered shut. What was it about being in the quiet of his bathroom, wrapped in his clothes, that felt so intimate?
She laughed as she caught her reflection in the mirror because the shirt might as well have been a dress, cutting right above her knees. When she stepped out into the hallway, she was startled to find Reece staring at her with an intensity that made her blood hum in her veins.
Reece swallowed hard and tried to tear his gaze away from Sloane. She looked ridiculous in his shirt and shorts. He was huge compared to her. But she looked cute as hell. Not that he’d tell her that. He wanted to keep his dick attached to his body. And even if they were currently in a momentary truce, he knew her well enough not to push too far.
“Okay, I had an idea for chore number three already, but after seeing your apartment, it’s given me new inspiration,” she said.
His mind was so far off from his work and what originally had brought them together that it took him a second to realize what she was talking about. “What is it?”
“I want to decorate your place.”
He had to be hearing her wrong. “You do know how the chores thing works, right? It’s me helping you.” A horrific image of Sloane painting every wall bubble-gum pink entered his mind. He didn’t doubt she’d throw out her back, maniacal laughter spilling from that pretty little mouth as she coated every inch of surface area until his apartment became reminiscent of a My Little Pony episode.
She gave that smile that punched him right in the gut. The one that crinkled her eyes in the corners. “It’d be a favor to all mankind to take this place from model home to respectable thirty-three-year-old dude humble abode.”
He shook his head. Sloane hated him, made it a point to bulldoze through his life just to hammer that point in. And now she wanted to go all Martha Stewart on his apartment? “But why?” He had the essentials. His TV, a bed, and a functional bathroom. Add in two first-aid kits, a Costco supply of toilet paper, and enough dish detergent to last until the turn of the next century, and he was set for life.
“I’m feeling altruistic today.”
Yeah, he’d believe that when hell froze over. She was scheming, and they both knew it. He also knew that he couldn’t say no. Not when it came to her.
“Fine. But you need to stay within a budget. I don’t want to go into debt because of you.”
“Fair enough. I have a friend who works at a home-furnishing store. I can get a pretty hefty discount. I mean, what do you even do here? Stare at the walls?”
“I play video games. Grill. Watch sports.”
She closed her eyes and pretended to snore.
“What? What is wrong with what I do?”
“Nothing, if you’re ninety.”
“You know, I do have a hose in my sink. It has pretty good range.” The image of her drenched in his T-shirt half tempted him to try.
Her lips quirked. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“To see you wet again, I might.” He’d love to make her wet in other ways. To have his fingers press against the hot seam between her thighs. To hear his name on her lips. His cock twitched.
Had that really come out of his mouth? All his control went out the window when it came to Sloane.
“You talk a huge game, Reece. But I don’t see a lot of follow-through. I’m beginning to think maybe that’s why—”
He couldn’t handle it any longer. Before she could continue, he closed the distance between them, pulling Sloane until she was flush with his body. Her body melted into his as he swept her lips into a kiss.
Her lips were so damn soft. She let out a tiny moan as his tongue teased her mouth. Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling him closer, and the kiss deepened. He’d imagined kissing her many times. When they were teens. Even well into his thirties. But with her hot little mouth against his, his imagination wasn’t even in the same ballpark.
Her hand slipped between them, rubbing the flat of her palm down his cock. His hands found their way under her shirt and cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her peaked nipples. He’d thought about this so many times. How he’d kneel in front of her, kiss down her body, taste her. His hand slipped to the waistband of Sloane’s shorts, teasing his fingers under her lacy underwear until they dipped beneath, finding the fabric damp. Their kiss turned fevered; then Sloane pulled away, flushed and breathless.
His finger teased her entrance, and she let out a soft moan, moving closer, giving him silent permission to enter her.
“I promise you, Smurfette, I’m not all talk. Is that what you want, for me to fuck you with my finger until you cry out my name?” His lips met hers again as his thumb brushed her clit and her body canted against him. His pace increased, and he added another finger. “I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.”
As soon as he said it, he knew he’d ruined the moment.
She pulled back with wide eyes. “We need to stop,” she said, although the words came out strangled.
Right. He took a step back, breathing hard. What the hell had just happened? One second he was giving her a hard time, the next, her tongue was lashing his in a battle of kisses, and his fingers were inside of her.
“Good idea.” His body was evidence enough that he thought that was a terrible idea.
“That can’t happen again,” she said, a mixture of shock and embarrassment on her face.
Damn it. “I know.” But even that was a lie. He’d been ready to take her right there in the middle of his living room.
“I need to get . . . going,” she stammered. He’d never seen her so flustered before. “But I’ll be over tomorrow to take measurements for all the décor.”
“I’m on shift.” And he wanted to stall for as long as possible because he didn’t exactly like the idea of change in his apartment. He’d had enough of that with the addition of Peaches. But he also didn’t want to be one step closer to having Sloane out of his life. He’d put money on her avoiding him like the plague once his auction duties were completed.
“Then I guess I’ll need a key to the apartment.” She held out her hand. That confidence. He’d never seen anyone with so much. It was sexy.
“Fine. I think I have a spare in the kitchen. Hold on.” He went and grabbed the one from the silverware drawer and handed it to her. He knew this could blow up in his face. But to see that smile spread across her face, when it had something to do with him, he honestly didn’t care. Just as she was about to grab the key from his hand, he pulled it away. “I just have one condition.”
“I didn’t think a favor came with conditions.” Her cheeks were still flushed with desire. From what they’d been doing a couple of minutes ago. He could barely think straight with lust pulsing through his veins. He fisted his hands, combatting the urge to rake his fingers through her soft blue hair. He’d give anything to bury his face into the curve of her neck and inhale the sweet scent of honey and jasmine.
He realized she was standing there, waiting for an answer. Five more minutes and he’d usher her out the door and finish what he’d started in the hot spray of his shower.
“When it comes to getting access to my apartment, it does.”
“Fine. What is your stipulation?” She waved her hand, urging him to continue. “I’ve already come up with the perfect color scheme.”
He cocked a brow. Women really were multitaskers, because the only thought in his head for the past twenty minutes was Must. Have. Sloane. “You have?”
Sloane must have seen the confusion written across his face, because those gorgeous lips puckered into a smirk. “Focus, Reece.”
He put aside the fantasies of what Sloane could do with that mouth. “You said Peaches could benefit from lessons. Come to obedience school with me.” He’d seen ob
edience-school lessons advertised in the pet store where he’d picked up the dog’s food. And maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he was looking for a way to spend more time with Sloane. “I’ve tried the basic commands, but she doesn’t seem to listen. And since Kurt hasn’t gotten back to me . . .”
She rolled her eyes, but he saw the ghost of a smile twitch at her lips. “Why do you want me to come with you?”
“Because you are the technical co–foster parent for Peaches.” He didn’t mention the real reason, which he was sure she’d never let him live down. That he liked her company. Even when she was prickly. Especially when she was prickly.
She let out a deep, throaty laugh. “You drive a hard bargain, but sure, I’m in.” And then she grabbed the key from his hand and walked out the door, looking sinfully sexy in his clothes.
He was in so much trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
It was pitch-black when Reece arrived at the station the next morning. Winter was now in full effect, frost glistening from the bare branches of oak trees and puffs of exhaust curling in the air as early-morning commuters drove to work. This time of year always threw him off. If it was dark, he wanted to be sleeping. He dropped his bag in his sleeping quarters and then dressed in his Class Bs.
Hollywood and Jake were already out in the engine bay, making sure everything was properly prepped for their shift.
“Heard you and Sloane are getting serious,” Hollywood said as he checked the medical supplies in the engine.
Jake was such a damn gossip queen. He’d texted him last night after Sloane had left, wondering if it’d been a smart idea to give her a key to his apartment. The closest any woman had been to leaving an impression on his apartment was the lipstick mark on his Seahawks coffee mug the morning after.
He looked over at his best friend, who just gave a shrug in response. “What? I’m proud you’re finally getting close to someone.”
“Do you not remember Sloane has me by the balls for this auction?”
Jake lifted a brow. “You and I both know that this has nothing to do with the auction.”
Even if that were true—not that Reece was saying this—he’d never admit it to Jake and Hollywood. Truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about Sloane after yesterday. The feel of her body pressed up against him. The flare of her hips under his fingers. Those honey-brown eyes, clouded with lust and desire as her gaze raked over him.
“Reece is growing up.” Hollywood sniffed and threw an arm around him.
“Assholes,” he muttered, shaking off Hollywood’s grip as he grabbed his checklist.
Before he could get to the second item on the list, the tones went off. The operator relayed information about a residential fire, neighbors claiming smoke was billowing out of the windows.
Within a minute, they suited up in full gear and climbed into the rig.
Reece started up the engine, flicked on the siren, and pulled out of the station.
He went through his mental checklist. Wondering if anyone was in there since the operator hadn’t indicated. At this time in the morning, it seemed likely. They made it to the scene a few minutes later.
Reece hopped out of the rig and nodded to Hollywood and Jake. Even though they had headsets, they worked together like clockwork, no words needed.
He made his way around the house, the hiss and crack of things burning inside evident. He cased the perimeter, looking at the structure, to see if he needed to create a vent on the roof. It was a small Victorian-style home on the outskirts of downtown. If Reece had to guess, the house had been built early last century. The slope of the gabled roof would make it a pain in the ass to get up there and vent, but it was a possibility if needed. When he returned to the front of the house, a small crowd had formed around the perimeter: people in pajamas, work attire, and kids in school uniforms.
He made his way to the front, where Jake and Hollywood had already entered. The door was hanging on its hinges, smoke ghosting around the frame, spilling out into the frigid air.
Station 10 was already at the scene, gathering the hoses and hooking them up to the hydrant down the street.
“Fire started in the kitchen. Looks like it’s coming from a faulty wire,” came Hollywood’s voice over the headset.
Reece had seen it hundreds of times. People redoing their kitchens, doing the repair work themselves. Not getting anyone to check to see if they were up to code.
In the hallway, an end table was knocked over, along with a potted plant. His boots crunched over broken ceramics and soil as he trudged toward the back of the house. Jake and Hollywood came out of a room to the right, and the three of them entered what Reece assumed was the master bedroom.
Even through the haze, he spotted a figure in bed. As he moved closer, he noticed that blood stained her blonde hair, like she’d been struck with some type of object. Jake made it to her first, shook her, and when she didn’t respond, he gathered her in his arms and moved toward the doorway.
While Jake carried the woman to the ambulance waiting outside, Reece checked the rest of the bedroom, under the bed, in the walk-in closet, confirming there weren’t any other civilians.
Hollywood’s voice boomed over their com, a panicked sound that was clipped short. Reece turned to find Hollywood on the ground. His body was folded over, motionless. Smoke funneled into the room, visibility quickly fading.
“What the—” Something hit Reece against the head. Even though he was wearing his helmet, the force jarred him enough to rattle his teeth. He turned and expected to find a fallen beam, even though nothing about the structure was compromised from what he’d seen. He came face-to-face with a masked man who held a baseball bat. Reece moved out of the way before the man could make contact with him again, and before the guy sprinted out of the room, he nailed Hollywood once more in the ribs as Hollywood tried to get up.
Reece debated going after the guy, but Hollywood was down. He sprinted over to him and helped him to his feet. “Shit, man. You okay?”
Hollywood seemed to have a hard time catching his breath, but he nodded. With a hit like that, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he’d broken a couple of ribs. Reece carefully slung Hollywood’s arm over his shoulder as they both moved out of the room. Station 10 was inside now, extinguishing the flames.
“We need to clear the rest of the house,” Hollywood gritted out, pulling Reece toward the rear of the house instead of the direction of the entrance.
Reece gently guided him to the front door. “You need to see a medic, dude.”
“I’m fine.” Hollywood looked anything but. His breathing was jagged, and he winced with every step he took.
Two more firefighters from Station 10 ran inside. There were more than enough men to handle this. He needed to get his brother to safety.
Hollywood held up his hand, appearing to give up his protest. “Fine.” Once he’d gotten Hollywood out to the front to get checked out by an EMT, he went back into the house.
Reece made his way through the house and didn’t find anyone else there. The fire had been contained to the kitchen and most of the living room. A headache pulsed at his temples, and his vision wavered slightly, but he ignored it as he finished scanning the structure.
Once everything was cleared, he walked outside to check on the woman he had found. She lay on a stretcher inside the ambulance, paramedics feeding her oxygen, taking her vitals.
He strode over to Jake, who was helping the paramedics with the woman. “Did you see the guy run out?”
Jake shook his head. “No. I heard you guys over the com, but I couldn’t turn back.”
The guy had to be long gone by now.
Just then, PD rolled up, and Detective Ross got out of the vehicle. Both Station 11 and the precinct shared a building, and he often ran into Ross on his shift. The guy was in his late thirties. Nice guy, liked to go fishing on the weekends and brought in beer he brewed in his basement. Ross pulled out a pad of paper and a pen from his jacket pocket. “Elect
rical fire?”
Reece nodded. He was still dazed from the blow to the head, and the pounding had turned from a dull throb to a deep pulse that made the morning light barely tolerable. He was lucky he’d had his helmet on.
Another unmarked police car rolled up. A woman who looked to be in her early thirties dressed in a black pantsuit got out of the driver’s side. She was gorgeous, her dark skin and brown eyes shining in the morning light. Her curls were pulled back and swayed to either side of her shoulders as she walked over to Reece and the detective.
“Investigator Betts, you got here fast.” Ross gestured to Reece. “This is Reece Jenkins. Reece, this is Emeline Betts, our new arson investigator.”
Reece had heard that they’d just filled that position. She stuck out her hand, and Reece shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
She nodded and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Can you catch me up to speed?”
Reece relayed what he’d seen. As he finished recapping the events, his vision started to narrow, and he lost his balance, gripping the side of Ross’s SUV.
Ross steadied Reece’s shoulder. “You okay, man?”
He waved his hand, but another surge of dizziness washed over him. “Just a hit to the helmet. No big deal.”
“Head injuries aren’t something to mess with,” Betts said. Her brows scrunched together. Or at least he was pretty sure they did. Everything was going blurry.
Before he was able to argue, Reece’s world darkened around the edges and then faded to black.
Sloane checked her phone in the break room, cursing herself for thinking Reece would actually text. She wasn’t the type of person who needed attention like that. And yet, here she was, scrolling through her messages. Again.
They were both working today. She’d planned on going over to his apartment after her shift to take the measurements for the new decor.
Up In Flames (Flirting with Fire Book 2) Page 14
