by Jill Shalvis
She looked down at herself. The sunshine-yellow spaghetti-strapped satin tank top and matching panties she’d just gotten on sale from the Internet absolutely weren’t suitable for company. She grabbed a robe. “Who is it?”
“Me.”
She had no trouble recognizing the low, deep voice, and even if she hadn’t, the way her body tightened in response would have told her it was Jake. Her body always knew him, craved him, even when her mind tried to resist.
He knocked again, just once, and she rested her forehead on the door, her heart beating like a wild drum.
“Callie?”
She put a hand to her chest as if she could hold her heart safe. In the light of day she could have resisted him, but there was no light here, no warmth, no sun, and suddenly she needed him. “I’m not dressed.”
“I don’t care. I just want to see you.”
He sounded like maybe he was hurting, and one thing she’d never been able to do was ignore someone in pain. She debated with herself for another second, then opened the door.
He didn’t say a word, just looked at her with that intriguing, irresistible mixture of affection, the need to strangle her, and a longing that nearly brought her to her knees.
So he felt it, too, she marveled, all the pent-up emotions that drove her so crazy. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He paused. “No.” He let out a breath. “Actually, I’m not sure.” He started to step in but she mustered up some pride and blocked him. He just looked at her with those eyes of his and everything within her quivered in reaction to the hunger there.
“Is your shoulder hurting?” she asked.
“If I said yes, is that the password?”
“Jake—”
“Because it’s killing me. But that’s nothing new.”
Her heart melted. There’d be no resisting him, not tonight anyway, and she moved aside.
He shut the door behind him, then leaned back against it and pulled her to him. “Callie.” Just that, just her name whispered in a raw, tortured voice as he skimmed a hand down her hair, over her shoulder.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
He sounded nearly destroyed. “Oh, Jake,” she murmured, and unable to resist soothing him, she slid her arms around his neck. “Is it being here? Tucker? Not fighting fires? What?”
“All of the above.”
She tightened her grip on him. “I’m sorry.”
He buried his face into the crook of her neck and held on tight. “I feel a little dead inside. But not when I’m with you, never with you. Make me feel alive tonight, Callie, the way only you can.”
Her breath caught. Any resistance she’d managed to hold on to flew out the window. “I do that for you?”
“Oh, yeah.” The silky robe slid off one shoulder, not enough to expose her but enough to change his breathing. The pad of his finger danced lightly over her collar bone, and then he tipped up her face and kissed her, his mouth tasting so good, his body firm and warm against hers. He cupped her breast, his thumb gliding over her nipple, which was already tight and aching for his attention.
He looked a little dazed at the heat they seemed to generate. “Stop me now if you’re going to,” he murmured hoarsely. “And I’ll go.”
Her body throbbed with sensual hunger. Stopping wasn’t on her mind.
“Callie? I’m not much for subtleties, so you’re going to have to give me a sign here.”
She didn’t understand how much she wanted this. Him. But she slipped out of the robe, nudging off her straps while she was at it, then took his hand from her face and set it against her breast.
He let out a shaky breath. “That’s a damn good sign.” He tugged the satin down to her waist and let out a purely male growl before bending his head and opening his mouth on her. He used his lips, his tongue, his teeth, until she was burning up from the inside out. Other thoughts tried to invade. This was crazy; she couldn’t possibly want him this way; she would regret this come the light of day; but she shoved them all out of her head the way she nearly had that long ago night, and held on as if he were her lifeline.
He touched the bruises flowering on her ribs and made a low sound of regret. “Looks like I’m not the only one hurting.” He took her hand and led her to her bed. She sank to the futon mattress and he followed her down, facing her in the low light.
“You’re overdressed,” she murmured.
“I feel overdressed.” He began to lift his arms when she tugged on his shirt, then hissed out a pained breath.
“Let me,” she said, and helped him out of his clothes, taking the utmost care with his poor abused body, putting her lips to his scar. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, because despite various other scars he sported from head to toe, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She was just worrying about how she couldn’t possibly compare when he pressed her back. He whispered her name and then kissed her, long and deep, sliding one warm palm inside her panties, tracing her wet flesh with his fingers, drawing another rough sound from both their throats. His mouth made its way from her jaw to her ear, and there he told her what he wanted to do to her, using words that should have shocked her but only made her wetter.
His mouth forged a path with hot, open kisses over her collarbone, down to a breast, skimming the silk off her as he went. He kissed her belly, her thigh. And then in between. She was so primed and ready that she nearly came on the first stroke of his tongue, and on the second she did.
He had a condom. After he put it on, he looked at her from between her splayed legs, jaw tight, body trembly. “Callie…”
She realized it was pain, not pleasure on his face, and she sat up. “What? Your shoulder?”
“Yeah. I can’t—”
He couldn’t brace himself over her, and when she thought about it, she marveled that they’d gotten this far. But they had, and her body was still throbbing with pleasure. She had to give him the same. “Oh, Jake…here—” She pulled him down to his back.
He looked up at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes so filled with heat and desire he took her breath. Poor wounded warrior. He sucked in a breath when she threw a leg over him, and not from pain this time. Her hands went to his jaw, wanting to ease the tension there. “How can I make it better?” she whispered.
“Trust me, you’re well on your way.”
She ran her hands down his chest, over his belly, which besides being ridged with muscle, quivered at her touch. She didn’t expect that sign of nerves, or her reaction to it, which was a slow melting of her insides. There was a connection here that she hadn’t counted on. Then he deepened it by whispering her name softly, longingly, and she stared down at him, her already wired senses completely overcome.
“If you’re changing your mind again,” he said in a ragged voice. “Just kill me now.”
“No.” Her fingers wrapped around his impressive erection, and holding his gaze, she lifted up and guided him home. But he didn’t get very far, and frustrated, she slumped over him. “It’s been a long time.”
“Shh.” He lifted a hand to where she was trying to help him inside her. Moving her fingers away, his thumb brushed across her center in a light, teasing circle that had her gasping at the delicious touch.
He sent her up a dizzyingly wicked smile. Had she thought he wouldn’t fit? His touch opened something deep within her, and she sank down on him, discovering he fit just right.
His fingers dug into her hip, urging her to move, and when she did, he arched up into her, their twin moans mingling in the air. With him filling her to bursting, and his thumb sliding over her, pleasure rocked her world. As they moved together in perfect rhythm, something very deep and soul-grabbing flickered between them, and she felt herself start to spiral. As she took the plunge, he went with her, pulling her down closer to him, burrowing his face in her hair as he groaned.
Afterward, they lay there entangled, breathing as though they’d run five miles uphill. Afraid she
might be hurting him, she tried to slide off but his arms tightened around her.
So she stayed, her muscles still spasming periodically in pure overloaded bliss, absorbing the lazy stroke of his hand up and down her spine. Eventually he got up and went into her bathroom, and when he came out, he sat next to her in all his naked, unself-conscious glory.
“Feeling alive now?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He smiled and ran a finger over her shoulder. “I’m feeling far more than half a man, too.”
“Is that how you see yourself?”
“Without firefighting, yeah.”
“Oh, Jake.”
He stood up. “I don’t want your pity.”
“I’m not offering you any. Just a little sympathy.”
“I don’t want that, either. But I’d take round two.”
A moment ago she’d felt like cuddling him. Now she wanted to chuck a pillow at his head. “We should talk about it, Jake.”
“About what?”
“About how you’re hurting. Missing your job. Your father. Tucker—”
“I don’t want to talk.” He moved around the cabin, picking up the clothing they’d so haphazardly tossed in all directions only a little while before, pulling on his jeans before he glanced at her. “I should go.”
She had no idea why she’d expected something different. “Right.”
He sighed again. “Callie—” He looked at her for a long moment, hair tousled, clothes disheveled, looking so damn sexy she could hardly stand it. “Nothing.”
Disappointment was a vice on her heart, cooling her still-heated skin. “Bye, Jake.”
“Bye.” Her front door shut behind him.
Body still humming, Callie lay back. “That was it,” she told herself. “No more.” So why her body quivered and hungered for more, even as she turned over and forced herself to sleep, was a complete and irritating mystery.
8
What seemed like only ten minutes after he’d crawled onto his cot, Jake awoke with a start. This was due to Tucker climbing off the couch and kicking him on the back of the head with his foot as he did—not, Jake was certain, entirely by accident.
“Sorry,” Tucker muttered, sounding anything but.
Jake had been dreaming about being back in Callie’s bed, which had been a great place to be. So great that when he’d been there last night, he hadn’t wanted to leave, which in turn had given him a panic attack, and he’d nearly killed himself to get out. “What the hell time is it?”
“Five thirty. Time to rise and shine, city boy.”
Jake had to laugh at that. “You used to be a city boy yourself. You used to whine like a baby when I’d wake you for kindergarten.”
“Yeah, well, that was a damn long time ago.” Wearing only his boxers, Tucker grabbed his jeans off the floor and headed toward the bathroom.
“I’d have to peel you off me to get you on the bus,” Jake called out.
Tucker tripped but caught himself. The bathroom door slammed behind him.
Jake lay back and studied the ceiling. Dawn never seemed this early when he was in the firehouse. And it was butt-cold out here for spring. The windows were fogged.
He didn’t want to get up. He’d have liked to just lie there and think about the amazing sex he’d had last night, but as with everything out in the boondocks, even that had ended badly.
His own fault. He’d been a shit for leaving like that, when all she’d wanted to do was talk, and he deserved whatever she dished out today. He wondered what form his torture would take. Feeding more pigs? Moving more cows?
And who willingly did those things every day?
Maybe these people were all crazy. Yeah, that would explain a lot.
The shower turned on.
All hell, they weren’t crazy. No one crazy would get up at dawn like Tucker and work so hard or be so dedicated. And Jake had to admit, stretching, wincing at the ache in his shoulder, that his baby brother was both. He wore responsibility surprisingly well.
An extremely welcome change.
After a few more minutes, the bathroom door opened and a fully dressed Tucker headed toward the front door.
“Tuck?”
One hand on the door, Tucker hesitated. “Yeah?”
“When are you going to forgive me for leaving you?”
“I was only five, you were nothing to me.”
A lie. They both knew that. They’d been everything to each other. “You know I had to go,” Jake said softly. “Mom—”
“I don’t care.”
“She was jealous of us. She had all the control then, and she used it—”
The front door slammed shut. Before Jake could lie back, it was whipped open again. “You going to help with chores or what?” Tucker demanded.
“I’ll help.”
“I know you don’t want to get your hands dirty, so maybe you could just show up in the tack room and help organize the gear for our day trip.”
“I don’t give a shit if my hands get dirty. I just wasn’t used to trying to direct a damn cow—”
The door slammed again and Jake was left alone. He got up slowly, shoulder stiff, feeling twice his age. A hot shower didn’t help.
He stepped outside and glanced at Callie’s cabin. He could still be in there right now, holding her gorgeous body and getting lucky again. But no, he’d had to run out like a bat out of hell rather than talk. He hated talking, especially about what she’d wanted to talk about—himself and his feelings.
He made his way to the barn. Moe gave him the evil eye as he entered. “Okay, listen,” he said, stopping at his stall, extending a hand to pet him. “How about a peace treaty?”
Moe bared his teeth.
Jake yanked his hand back. “Or not,” he muttered and went to the tack room. A few days ago he and Eddie had moved the puppies and their mother there, onto a soft bed of hay. They’d named the brown dog Tiger, for her fierce protective tendencies, and she seemed proud of it. Now the dog raised her head and sniffed at him, and then let him pet the puppies, which sent them all into wiggle, mewling mode.
At least somebody here liked him.
Living alone and working twenty-four hour shifts didn’t suit a dog’s life, so he didn’t have one. But he stroked the belly of a warm, chocolate brown puppy and felt a yearning inside him.
Knowing he couldn’t take one home, he sighed and went looking for some sign of what Tucker needed done. He had no idea, and no one was around, so he left, walking up to the big house in the early-morning sun. He didn’t hear a sound. No planes, no cars, no honking trucks, nothing. Just the occasional snort of a horse, the clucking of a hen or two.
The sky yawned wide in front of him, as vast as the land around him. Towering rocky canyons surrounded them, outlined by thick oaks and sycamores. Nowhere to go, no fires to put out, no purpose. Even more depressing was the little niggling voice inside saying, What if this is all you have? What if you can never go back to firefighting?
Outside, Lou kneeled before a toolbox in front of Callie’s Jeep and Eddie’s truck. They’d upped his hours at the ranch because he and Marge needed the income, but the truth was, the man kept all their equipment running smoothly and was damn handy. Just yesterday he’d made a hero out of himself when he fixed both the fussy hot tub and the microwave in the big kitchen.
Lou nodded to Jake but didn’t say a word. Eddie stood in the corral working with one of the horses. He nodded to Jake, too, but also kept to himself.
Everyone had a purpose, a reason for being there. Everyone but him.
Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and headed inside. Still no sign of Tucker. In the kitchen, he pilfered one of Amy’s excellent banana nut muffins off the stove. He could hear the guests conversing in Japanese in the dining room so he wandered into the weight room and over to a weight bench. Lying down, he reached up for the bar. There was only thirty pounds on it, and his left hand gripped just fine but his right…he couldn’t even get it to the bar. He had to physical
ly maneuver it with his left hand. Ridiculous. He’d been doing his exercises, including a brutal set of thirty push-ups a day, and he still couldn’t reach for anything. Lifting the weight was out of the question, he knew that, and yet out of apparent stupidity, he tried anyway.
And nearly strangled himself when his right arm collapsed and the bar landed across his windpipe. He fought with it for a moment, but couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Good one, Ace, he thought as his vision swam. Nice way to go—
“Ohmigod.” He caught a whir of fiery hair, which hit him in the face, and then the weights were lifted.
Callie glared down at him, looking more furious than he’d ever seen her. “You have a death wish?” She put a hand to his chest, holding him down when he would have risen. “Don’t you know your own damn limitations?”
Grabbing her hand in his, he pushed it aside and sat up, trying not to gasp for breath or look like he hurt like hell. “I would have been fine.” This was spoken in a thin, hoarse voice that didn’t fool either of them.
Callie shoved her hair out of her face, and let out a breath. “I was in my office, and heard the clang of the weights. I thought it was a guest, and nearly didn’t come check.” She shook her head. “You could have killed yourself, you idiot.”
Idiot? Did he call her an idiot when she got hurt? “I’m not paying to stay here to be insulted.”
“You’re not paying to stay here at all,” she pointed out. “I mean it, Jake, that was the stupidest thing—” She broke off when he sank back to the bench, lifting his left hand to rub his shoulder. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Yes, he hurt like hell, and was damn tired of it, too. “I’m fine. Thanks for the lecture. You can get back to work.”
“Let me see.”
“What? No.”
“Take off your shirt.”
A laugh choked out of him. “Didn’t we do this in reverse a week ago?”
