Slow Burn: A Colorado High Country Novel

by Pamela Clare

  He slid a finger inside her, then two, stroking her, fanning flames that were already burning out of control. She moaned, twisted, her fingers tightening in his hair. She was lost in sensation, her mind beyond conscious thought as he tasted her, teased her, tormented her with lips and tongue and fingers. She twisted, arched, holding on by a thread, her eyes squeezed shut, her body ablaze.

  The flames grew brighter and brighter—and then exploded.

  “Oh … God … Eric!” She heard herself cry out, white hot pleasure engulfing her, consuming her in a scorching wave of bliss.

  For a time, she laid there, aware of nothing but the gentle lapping of his tongue and the cinder glow in her blood, her body floating somewhere between earth and oblivion. Never in her life had she felt so replete, so completely satisfied. She hadn’t even known pleasure on that scale was possible.

  She opened her eyes for a moment and discovered that she’d thrown an arm over her face, her other hand clenched so tightly in the bedcover that she consciously had to release her fingers.

  She opened her eyes again and saw Eric get to his feet.

  He gave her a soft smile. “Welcome back, beautiful.”

  She opened her eyes for the third time, saw him tearing open a condom wrapper with his teeth. He rolled the condom over the length of his cock, then stretched himself over her, settling his hips between her thighs.

  “Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

  Oh, God, did she ever. “Yes.”

  He reached down to guide himself, entering her with a single, perfect thrust. Oh, but it felt good, her body ultra-sensitive from having come twice already, his cock stretching her, filling her, arousing her again.

  Again?

  But she’d never …

  “You are so wet.” His eyes drifted shut, an expression of torment on his face as he began to move inside her.

  Oh, God, it was sweet, the slippery friction making her ache.

  He moved slowly at first, letting the rhythm build until he was driving into her hard and fast, his cock stroking some secret place inside her, each thrust sweeter than the last. She moaned, tightening her legs around his waist, her hands reaching down to clench the shifting muscles of his lower back.

  Faster, harder.

  She pressed her heels into the clenching muscles of his ass, her hunger building to a third peak so quickly that all she could do was cry out. “I can’t …!”

  She buried her face into the strong curve of his shoulder, moaned out her pleasure against his skin, climax washing through her once more. But he was right behind her, shuddering in her arms as he came.

  Eric tossed the condom and washed up in the bathroom, unable to keep the stupid smile off his face. He felt happy, almost giddy, and more than a little off balance. He didn’t know what it was about Victoria that got to him; he was just glad it did.

  He walked back to the bed and found her in a sex coma beneath the blankets, her dark hair a damp, tangled mass. He crawled under the covers beside her and drew her into his arms, contentment warm behind his breastbone.

  She lifted her head, looked accusingly up at him. “You’re looking smug.”

  He couldn’t help it, a grin taking over his face again. “I’m really sorry it’s so hard for you to come.”

  Chapter 13

  Soft lips brushed Vic’s forehead. “Hey, city girl, it’s time to wake up.”

  She didn’t want to wake up. She was so blissfully relaxed, so warm, so comfortable right where she was, Eric’s arms around her, her face pressed against his chest. She snuggled deeper into him and let herself drift.

  He chuckled. “I guess Caribou Joe will never learn how to make better pizza.”

  Vic sat bolt upright. “Oh, my God. I forgot.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve still got ten minutes to get there.”

  She gaped at Eric, horrified. “Ten minutes?”

  The clock on the nightstand said 8:50.

  “Damn.” She scrambled out of bed, dashed naked into the bathroom, and stared in horror at her reflection. She’d fallen asleep with wet hair and looked like she’d survived a tornado. Or maybe she was a reincarnation of Medusa with snakes on her head.

  Eric leaned against the door jamb, gloriously naked, the sight of his body like a jolt of caffeine with a side of estrogen. “Brush your hair, wash your face, get dressed, and let’s go. You’re in Scarlet. No one cares if your hair isn’t perfect.”

  Why, oh, why had she agreed to make pizza for Joe when she could be spending the morning in bed with Eric?

  “Okay, fine.” She grabbed her brush, forced it through her hair, her sore arm muscles protesting. “I wish I could take a shower.”

  “You just had a shower.”

  “But I smell like sex.”

  Eric closed his eyes and inhaled, his cock growing longer, harder. “This whole room smells like sex.”

  Doing her best to ignore the now fully erect hunk of a man who stood nearby, she finished brushing her hair and examined the results in the mirror. The side she’d slept on was flatter than the other, giving her a lovely lopsided look. She fished through her makeup bag for a ponytail holder. Typically, she only wore her hair like this if she was going to the gym, but extreme situations called for extreme measures.

  “Cute,” he said. “I like it.”

  “Are you just going to stand there with a hard-on, watching me?” It was distracting, to say the least. After last night, she couldn’t look at him without thinking of fucking him. Heat flared to life between her thighs, making her wet.

  He came up behind her, grasped her hips, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror, invitation and a hint of mischief in his blue eyes. “What else should I be doing?”

  Me! Do me!

  She wanted to shout the words but didn’t. “We don’t have time for that. Do we?”

  He held up an unopened condom. “Want to find out how fast you can come?”

  She had to be crazy. “Yes.”

  He tore open the condom, rolled it over his erection, then nudged himself into her, their moans mingling as he buried himself all the way. He reached around to stroke and tease her, his cock moving inside her with forceful, deep thrusts.

  Victoria could see it all. The hunger on his face. His cock as it disappeared inside her up to his balls, then slid out again, the condom glistening and wet. His fingers as they teased and stroked her clit. His other hand as it cupped and shaped her breast. The pleasure on her own face.

  The sight was wild, primal, erotic—and, oh, it turned her on.

  He kissed her shoulders, nipped the side of her throat. “Vicki.”

  She came hard and fast, pleasure as sweet and pure as a sunrise washing through her, making her moan out his name. “Eric.”

  He grinned at her in the mirror, still inside her. “That was less than two minutes.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He grasped her hips and drove into her hard. “Bend down. I’ve wanted to fuck you from behind since that day on the boat.”

  She did as he asked, bending over till her breasts touched the counter, aroused to see him so turned on. He pounded himself into her, claiming his own orgasm, the intensity on his face as he came making her heart thud.

  He sank forward, catching the bathroom counter with one big hand to support his weight. “Damn, woman. You blow my mind.”

  She felt a thrill to hear him say that. Somehow, she knew he meant it.

  Then he pulled himself up and withdrew from her, giving her ass a light slap as he turned to toss the condom in the trash. “Better hurry up. We’ve got a minute to get there.”

  One minute?

  “We can do this.” She washed and moisturized her face, her heart so light she felt like singing. She put her mascara and lip gloss in her handbag—she could put them on in Eric’s truck—then hurried to dress, throwing on a T-shirt and jeans.

  A minute later, she and Eric climbed into his pickup truck.

  “Joe won’t care if we’re a
few minutes late.” Eric backed out of the driveway, waving to Rose, who sat on her front porch in a white robe, drinking from a porcelain teacup. “Mornin’.”

  “Hey, Rose.” Vic waved, too. “He really did spend the night last night.”

  Rose looked delighted. “It was just a matter of time.”

  Eric kicked the truck into gear and headed down the street, a grin on his face. “Well, you just gave the whole town something to talk about.”

  They arrived at Knockers a few minutes later. It was strange to see the place empty and quiet, no band on the stage, no one on the climbing wall or dance floor, no one playing pool.

  Joe met them just inside the door. “Hey, Victoria, Hawke. Lexi’s already here. Thanks for coming. I’ve got all your ingredients laid out in the kitchen.”

  Joe led them toward the back, where they found Lexi chatting with a handful of kitchen staff, who were busy with the day’s prep.

  Lexi smiled when she saw them and hurried over to give Vic a hug, a questioning look in her eyes, her gaze flitting to Eric and back. “I told Austin I wouldn’t miss this for the world—a chance to taste Chicago-style pizza again. He’ll be by later.”

  Vic gave Lexi the answer she wanted in a smile. “I hope it turns out well.”

  Then a giant of a man stepped forward. His head was bald, but he had a bushy red beard over which he wore a hairnet, its loops over his ears. “I’m Rico, Joe’s kitchen manager and head cook. I hear you think our pizza sucks.”

  Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about the pizza? “I didn’t say it sucked.”

  “Let’s make it better,” Joe said.

  Joe handed them all hairnets and aprons. “If you’re going to be in my kitchen, you’ve got to follow my rules, and, yes, that means you, too, Hawke.”

  Vic slipped the hairnet over her ponytail, trying to gather her thoughts. She’d never cooked under pressure before, and she didn’t want to make Joe sorry he’d come in early. “We’ll need a big mixing bowl, a rolling pin, two deep-dish pizza pans, and a big pot to cook the sauce in.”

  Rico reached up with one hand and took down a big sauce pan from a hook. “This ought to work for the sauce.”

  “Perfect.” She set the pot on a cold burner, only too aware that everyone was watching her.

  What business did she have giving a cooking lesson to a successful restaurateur and professional cook? She wasn’t a professional. She just liked to cook.

  “The secret to great deep-dish pizza is in the dough.” She separated the ingredients for the sauce from those she’d use in the dough. “If it’s not done right, you can tell. The sauce is important, too, but you can cheat in a pinch, use sauce from a jar, and still have a good pizza. You can’t cheat with the dough. The secret ingredients are cornmeal, butter, and lots of olive oil.”

  They started with the dough, which needed a good hour to rise, Rico joining her in measuring out flour, salt, sugar, butter, warm water, and yeast. The moment her hands were busy, her nerves vanished, cooking with friends chasing away her doubts.

  This was fun.

  Eric watched while Victoria showed Rico and Joe how she made pizza, he and Taylor, who had finally shown up, acting with Lexi as official taste-testers.

  Hey, it was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

  Victoria’s enthusiasm was palpable, and Eric found it hard to take his eyes off her. Even with a hairnet on her head, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known. There was a glow about her that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived in Scarlet, the happiness on her face shooting straight to his heart. Was it self-centered of him to hope that at least some of that happiness was his doing?

  Knock it off.

  Yes, they’d had an incredible night together, but that wasn’t reason for him to lose his head. She was leaving on Sunday. She would get on a plane and fly back to Chicago, and he wouldn’t see her again for a long time. He needed to enjoy the time he had with her and just let the rest of it go.

  Besides, even if Victoria lived in Scarlet, that didn’t mean the two of them would end up together. In his experience, most women liked the idea of hooking up with a firefighter only when they were thinking with their hormones. The reality—six to eight days each month spent sleeping alone, trying to plan a life with someone who was almost always on call, the very real risk of injury and death on the job—was much less sexy and a lot more difficult. Hell, half the men who worked for him were divorced.

  And what the hell was he thinking anyway? Did he genuinely want to be in a serious relationship with her, a woman he’d known for a week?

  “Hey, Hawke,” Taylor called from across the room, apparently not for the first time. “You deaf? Check this out.”

  Eric went over to see what Taylor was looking at and found a Class K fire extinguisher with no pressure. “Hey, Joe, you need to get this fire extinguisher serviced. It won’t do you a damned bit of good if that fat fryer goes up. Also, it shouldn’t be back here behind all these mops and buckets. I could give you a citation for that.”

  But he wouldn’t—not today.

  Joe took it in stride. “Shit. Right. Sorry.”

  “That’s what you get for letting the fire chief into the kitchen,” Rico joked.

  Eric drew out his cell phone, grateful to have something to think about besides Victoria. “I’ll call the firehouse and have someone pick this one up and bring you a new one. I can’t have my favorite brewpub burning down.”

  Okay, so it was the only brewpub. So what?

  “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”

  After the pizzas had gone into the oven, they all pitched in to clean up so that the kitchen crew could finish their lunch prep, then sat together at a table near the bar, Eric doing his best to ignore feelings he couldn’t seem to control.

  His empty stomach growled. “If that pizza tastes half as good as it smells, she’ll have outdone you, Rico.”

  Whatever else you could say about Victoria, the woman could cook. It was clear to him that she hadn’t been following a recipe, but going from memory, even improvising at times, guided by taste alone.

  Rico laughed. “I’m willing to concede defeat when I’m good and truly beaten. Where did you take cooking classes?”

  Victoria shrugged. “I haven’t taken any classes. I really love to cook, so I watch a lot of cooking shows and read a lot of cookbooks.”

  Rico’s brows shot up toward his bald dome. “You’ve got natural talent.”

  “Talent? Ha. Right.” She brushed off his compliment. “How about you?”

  “I got my associate degree in culinary arts while I was doing time.”

  “Doing time? You mean in prison?” The question was casual, but Eric saw a flash of fear in her eyes.

  She was thinking of that bastard Stewart and wondering what Rico had done.

  Rico nodded. “Best thing that ever happened to me. It straightened my ass out and taught me a skill. When I got out, Joe gave me a job.”

  “Must’ve been drunk,” Joe grumbled, his gaze on a printout of the restaurant’s staff schedule for the upcoming week.

  Eric asked the question Victoria was too polite to ask, wanting her to feel at ease again. “What were you in for, Rico? Stealing cars or some shit?”

  “Yeah. Stealing cars and selling the parts.”

  Relief came over Victoria’s face. “Why did you decide to study cooking?”

  “You ever taste prison food?” Rico asked.

  Victoria shook her head. “That bad, huh?”

  “You don’t even want to know.”

  The little timer Rico had brought with him dinged. He turned it off, got to his feet, a wide grin on his face. “Here we go.”

  He and Victoria disappeared into the kitchen, while Joe got up and walked to the bar, where he filled a pitcher with beer.

  “Help me with these glasses?” he asked Eric and Taylor. “Unless you’d rather skip the beer.”

  That had both of them on their feet.

  “Fr
ee beer, and it’s not yet noon,” Taylor said. “It’s a good day.”

  By the time Victoria and Rico returned with the sliced pizzas, the beer had been poured out and the table set with plates, forks, and napkins. Rico quickly served, lifting thick, cheesy slices onto plates, making sure that everyone who wanted a piece got one.

  Joe cut a bite off his slice. “Now for the moment of truth.”

  Everyone watched while he popped it into his mouth and chewed.

  “Breathe, Victoria,” Eric said.

  She looked nervous as hell, both hands raised to her lips as if she might just decide to close her eyes right now and pray.

  Joe’s brows came together in a frown, his head nodding furiously up and down. His gaze met Victoria’s. “Fantastic. Rico, man, what do you think?”

  Rico had sauce on the corners of his mouth. “Best pizza I’ve ever had, boss.”

  The relief and happiness on Victoria’s face made Eric smile.

  She turned to him. “What do you think?”

  He took a bite, the tang and spice exploding across his tongue, the thick crust both chewy and crisp. “Wow.”

  That’s all he could manage before a second bite found its way onto his fork and into his mouth and then a third and a fourth.

  Joe laughed. “I think he likes it.”

  Taylor turned to Lexi, spoke with his mouth full. “Now I understand why you complain so much.”

  A horrified look came over Lexi’s face, her gaze darting to Rico and then Joe. “I do not complain.”

  “Yes, you do,” Eric and Taylor said at the same time.

  “It’s okay, Lexi,” Joe said, a smile somewhere beneath his beard. “You’re getting married in a couple of days, so I’ll let you off the hook. Also, you’re right. This is a lot better than what we serve. I’m not sure you can even compare the two. Victoria, thanks for taking the time this morning. It’s settled. Your meals and drinks are on the house for the rest of your stay in Scarlet. If you ever need a job…”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Hey, I’m not kidding.”

  The smile on Victoria’s face seemed to light up the world. “Thanks, Joe.”