Heating Up

by Stacy Finz

  “What movie do you want to see?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. What’s playing?” She wasn’t up on her movie releases because she never went to the theater anymore. Especially now that Aidan had ordered Netflix.

  He got out his phone and searched the film listings in Reno, ticking off a few. They’d already missed the first evening showings of the ones that sounded interesting. The next viewings didn’t start until close to ten. That was a lot of time to kill.

  “We could go to my parents’ house.” The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back.

  What a colossally bad idea. But she hadn’t visited them—or heard from them for that matter—since right after the fire, and they were due for a welfare check. It was a big house, she told herself. She and Aidan could sit in the casita, maybe take a dip in the pool.

  “Sure,” he said, and flagged their waitress down, motioning for the bill.

  “Let me pay for my half.” Dana reached inside her purse.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Then I get to pick up the check next time.”

  He squared up, left a tip, and they went outside into the hot summer night. Pinks and blues streaked the rose-colored sky. Soon it would be replaced by neon greens, reds, and golds from the surrounding casinos.

  Inside Aidan’s truck, he turned on the engine and got the air conditioner going. She told him how to get to her parents’ house, taking him through a warren of city streets. As they entered Old Southwest Reno, driving on the leafy tree-lined streets, she saw Aidan begin to take notice of the large historic homes.

  “This is where you grew up, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm. Take a right there and an immediate right onto the private lane.”

  He followed her directions and proceeded up the long and winding road. “Pretty genteel.”

  She supposed it could be called that. When they got to her parents’ circular driveway, Aidan did a double take and let out a low hum.

  “This is like freaking Beverly Hills. Where should I park?”

  “Just pull up in front of the house, near the fountain.” Usually she parked under the porte cochère, but they wouldn’t be here that long. And it wasn’t as if her parents would notice anyway.

  Aidan turned off the ignition and continued to stare at the house, which would probably look imposing to anyone. Built in 1906, the Mediterranean mansion had belonged to Dana’s grandfather. When he had gotten ill, her family had moved in to help take care of him. He’d left the house to them when he’d died.

  “We going inside?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Again, he came to her side of the truck to help her out, and she unlocked and escorted him through the huge oak entry door, into the marble-floored foyer and through the massive formal living room. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sat on the damask couches or velvet settees. For as long as she could remember, her family had gathered in the den.

  She led Aidan in that direction. “Mom, Dad.” Her voice echoed off the walls.

  The television blared in the next room. The house was spotless as usual, but the rooms felt airless. Dana would bet Betty hadn’t cranked open a window since the last time she’d visited.

  “Mom? Dad?” No one answered, her voice probably muffled by whatever program they were watching.

  She wanted to find a spot for Aidan so she could check on her parents and then leave them to their show. Funny, with all the rooms in the house, she couldn’t think of one single solitary place to deposit him that didn’t feel alien. This had been a mistake. She started to make a detour for the kitchen—the back door—when she heard a weedy cry for help coming from the den.

  Aidan didn’t wait and rushed in with Dana close behind. Sprawled on the floor was her mother.

  “Mrs. Calloway?”

  Startled, Betty stared up at Aidan from the Aubusson rug as he loomed over her.

  “Are you all right?” Dana bent down, took her mother’s arm, and started to lift her until Aidan stopped her.

  “You feel any pain, Mrs. Calloway? We don’t want to move you if you’re hurt.”

  Betty looked at Dana, who replied, “This is Aidan. He’s a friend of mine. He’s also a firefighter.” What she was trying to say was that he had emergency training. But it didn’t seem to compute with Betty, who continued to stare at him like he was an intruder. “What happened?”

  “I must have fallen asleep and somehow rolled out of the chair.”

  Aidan cast an eye over the chair and the side table. He was probably looking for booze, but Dana’s parents didn’t drink.

  “I’m fine,” Betty said and scrambled to get up.

  Aidan lent her an arm. “Not too fast.”

  Once on her feet, Aidan checked her pulse and asked her a few questions. The day, her first and last name, and how many fingers he was holding up. She supposed he was checking for a concussion. Dana didn’t see any cuts, bruises, sprains, or breaks, at least not to the naked eye.

  “Where’s Dad?” she asked.

  “He went up to bed.”

  Dana glanced at the grandfather clock. It wasn’t even nine.

  “I think I’ll go up too,” Betty said.

  “All right. Why don’t I walk you?”

  “That’s not necessary, dear.” She grabbed her reading glasses off the coffee table and started to walk away.

  Dana couldn’t help herself. “Wouldn’t you like to know how my new house plans are coming along?” Or the fact that she was about to close the biggest deal of her career?

  “You can tell me all about it in the morning,” Betty said. “Good night, dear.”

  She didn’t even thank Aidan or say goodbye, nice to meet you, or any of the other pleasantries normal parents say to their daughter’s friends. Dana could feel her face heat in embarrassment.

  That’s when a strong arm wrapped around her waist. “Don’t sweat it,” he whispered in her ear. “Show me the house.”

  “It’s just that . . . she didn’t used to be that way . . . she’s broken.”

  “I know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s sad, but tragedy does that to some people. How are the plans for your new house coming?”

  A tear leaked from her eye and rolled down her cheek. “They blame me . . . for Paul. I was there. I should’ve known.”

  He pulled her down on the sofa. “No one could’ve known. It was a fluke, Dana. Trained emergency response teams have missed it, even doctors. You were fifteen.”

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then got up to find tissues. When she came back, Aidan was standing in the hallway looking at the family pictures on the wall.

  “That you?” He pointed at a picture of a thirteen-year-old Dana getting ready to go to their club’s annual father-daughter dance.

  “I was channeling my inner Tiffani Amber Thiessen.” When Aidan’s face registered a blank, she said, “Of Beverly Hills, 90210.”

  “Oh.” He chuckled. “You were beautiful then and you’re beautiful now.”

  She wondered how much of the compliment stemmed from him feeling sorry for her. “How about the nickel tour so we don’t wake them up?” Dana nudged her head at the second story.

  “Sounds good. It’s a beautiful place.”

  “Thank you. It was my grandfather’s and, before Paul died, a real home.” She took him through the main level, going room to room. “We spent all our time in the den and even put our Christmas tree there.”

  In the sunroom, she opened the row of French doors and flicked on a switch. The whole backyard lit up, illuminating the pool, the casita, and an oasis of palm and yucca trees.

  “Whoa.” Aidan stepped outside. “You’ve got a whole world out here.”

  “You want to go for a swim?”

  “I don’t have a suit.” He lifted his brows and gazed up at the second story.

  It would be just Dana’s luck that one of her parents would come out on the balcony to find
their daughter and her very male friend skinny-dipping. A long shot, but Dana wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I’ll find you one,” she said and beckoned him to follow her into the casita.

  Inside, she grabbed the one-piece she’d worn last time and rummaged through a basket where her mother had always kept spares for guests. She went through a pile, separating out the kids’ suits. Granted, some of the patterns were dated, but for the most part, men’s swim trunks hadn’t changed much over the years.

  “How about these?” She held up a pair of Speedo briefs and suppressed a laugh. God only knew where those had come from.

  “Not on your life,” he said, checking out the Spanish-style pool house.

  “Michael Phelps wears them.”

  He shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  Too bad. If any man could pull off a Speedo it was Aidan.

  “This is nice. You ever stay the night in here?”

  There was a small bedroom off the living room with a queen-size bed, canopied in mosquito netting. Despite the dearth of bugs, once upon a time her mother had thought the netting was a romantic touch.

  “Once or twice at slumber parties with the neighbor girl. We’d always get scared, though, and go running back to the main house.” She found a pair of striped trunks and held them out to him. “What do you think?”

  “Those will work. You handled?”

  “Yep. You can use the bedroom to change. I’ll use a dressing room outside.”

  He disappeared behind the door. She stripped in one of the three fitting areas near the outdoor shower. Aidan had a towel around his waist when he came out. She wouldn’t have taken him for modest and definitely not for shy.

  “They’re a little small,” he said.

  “How small?” She pulled the towel away . . . and oh my! Aidan was very well endowed; the shorts left nothing to the imagination. “Will you bust out of them?”

  “I wouldn’t talk if I were you.” He stared pointedly at her backside. “A little wedgie action going on there?” And then, for good measure, he stared a little more.

  “Stop.”

  “Only if you stop.” He nudged her chin up with his finger to keep her eyes off his crotch.

  “Do you want me to find you something else?”

  “These will be fine. Let’s just get in the water.” He walked out to the edge of the pool and cannonballed in. She motioned for him to keep the noise down.

  “Sorry,” he said and shook the water out of his hair. “I forgot.”

  She waded in slowly, even though the water was warm. Aidan vanished under the surface and appeared a few seconds later, tugging her toward the deep end. Fed up with how slow she moved, he wrapped her legs around his waist and swam backward with her.

  He felt so good, the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her breasts and his hands flat against her wet back. Her own clutched his powerful shoulders as they floated under the starlit sky, a symphony of crickets serenading them.

  Dana closed her eyes, feeling his erection surge against her and reveling in the intimacy of it. “What are we doing, Aidan?”

  That’s when he leaned in and kissed her, his lips tasting like chlorine and mojito. She cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer, devouring his mouth as he explored hers with his tongue.

  “I’m tasting you.” His hands slipped down and inched up the bottom of her suit until he held her bare butt in his hands. Squeezing both cheeks, he slid those clever hands between her legs. It felt so good and erotic that she readjusted her thighs to give him better access, never breaking free of his mouth.

  Aidan glided one hand out, pulled the straps and the top of her bathing suit down, exposing her breasts, and fondled each one at a time.

  He stopped kissing her long enough to look, his eyes darkening at the sight of her. “Oh, Dana. Beautiful, beautiful Dana.”

  “We’re moving kind of fast here, don’t you think?” Even to her own ears the words sounded perfunctory. She wanted this with him. She always had.

  “Should I stop?” Laving her breasts with his mouth, he floated them to the edge of the pool where he boxed her in against the side. “It’s entirely up to you.”

  She didn’t answer, just untied the drawstring on his trunks, released the Velcro tab, and reached inside.

  “Ah, Jesus.” He tugged her hand out of his shorts. “You first. Put your legs down, baby, so I can get this off.” With one hand he tugged her one-piece down and she kicked it away until it floated to the surface.

  She stood before him completely naked. He kissed her some more, working his lips down her body while he continued to play with her breasts.

  “Oh God.”

  “You like this?” He licked her nipples, taking each one into his mouth, while he went to work with his fingers between her legs.

  “Aidan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I want you . . . please.”

  He began spreading kisses over her belly. “We’ll get to that, but first this. Put your legs over me.” Aidan crouched down in the water and hooked her thighs over his shoulders until she floated on her back and reached under her butt to lift her up.

  Before she knew it, he had his mouth down there, licking and sucking until she thought she’d die from how wonderful it was.

  “Come for me,” he said against her.

  And she did, shuddering her release while calling his name. “Aidan. Aidan.”

  He pulled her up and hugged her close, shushing her with more kisses. Nearby, he snatched her floating swimsuit from the water, lifted her out of the pool, carried her to the casita in all her naked glory, and lay her down on the mosquito-netted bed. His pants lay folded on a chair and he began going through the pockets.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He held up a small foil square, lost the swim trunks, and plopped onto the bed next to her. With his teeth, he ripped open the package, rolled the condom on, and began touching and kissing her all over again until she begged for him.

  “God, I want you,” he said, entering her a little at a time. “Has it been a while?”

  “Mm-hmm. How about for you?”

  “Seven months.”

  Not since Sue, she thought as he began to move inside her. Not since the love of his life left him.

  Chapter 14

  Aidan framed Dana’s face with his hands and concentrated on his strokes. He wanted this to be good for her. The best it had ever been. For both of them.

  “You okay?” he asked in a throaty whisper.

  “I’m good . . . so good.”

  He was beyond good but wanted to go deeper and positioned her legs wider, pumping harder. Her breath caught and she let out a soft gasp.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, keeping rhythm with his thrusts, her hands clutching his back.

  “Not on your life. You feel so good.”

  The truth was, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on sheathed in her tight heat. He was about to lose his mind.

  Burying his mouth in her neck, he kissed her over and over again, while he squeezed her breasts. Two perfect, round globes with pebbled pink nipples. They were high and firm and delectable.

  “Hang on a sec.” He rolled her over so she was on top. “Sit up so I can look at you.”

  She hesitated. But when he flicked his thumb over her center, rubbing circles in her wetness, she moaned and slowly came up, arching her back to ride him.

  “Oh, oh, this is . . .” She shut her eyes and quickened the pace.

  “You’ve never done it like this before?”

  “I didn’t think I would like being so . . . well, you know.” she said, bouncing up and down, losing all inhibitions.

  “Jesus, Dana, with your body, you could own me like this.” He clutched her hips, driving her faster, and sucked her breasts, making her moan and shout out.

  She grabbed his shoulders, quivering as her body rocked from orgasm, calling his name over and over again.

&nbs
p; He latched onto her lips with his to hush her. But he liked the noises she made, the way she said “Aidan.” Hell, he reveled in them. They made something expand in his chest. And when he saw her eyes darken with heat, and maybe something else, it brought him impossible pleasure.

  Aidan flipped Dana onto her back, propping himself above her so he could look his fill, and entered her again in one long, hard thrust. Surprised that he’d managed to last this long, he tried to take his time. But Dana wasn’t having it, bucking under him, imploring him to come closer, to go faster.

  He aimed to please and thrusted harder, pounding into her until he felt her breath hitch and her body spasm. That was when he let himself go, throwing his head back and rocking with her. The tremor that ripped through him felt euphoric, like he was having an out-of-body experience. Never before could he remember it being like this. He’d had good sex, even great sex, but nothing this intense.

  “Dana?” He rolled off her and gathered her close in his arms. “What just happened here?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Will it be weird . . . us living together?”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” he said, rubbing circles on her back and kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “We should probably make some rules, a list of dos and don’ts, so we don’t turn this into an issue.”

  There she went with her rules and lists; she’d probably hang them on the refrigerator. “Could we catch an hour’s sleep first?” He palmed her sweet ass and tucked her head into his shoulder. “I thought women liked to cuddle afterward.”

  “I do . . . but don’t you think we should—”

  “ ’Night, baby.” And with her nestled against him, he fell asleep.

  By the time he woke, there was sunshine streaming through the shutters. Shit! He wondered if her parents were awake and if they’d noticed the lights on by the pool and his truck parked in their circular drive. Although from what he’d seen of Dana’s mom, she didn’t notice much. It was one thing to mourn a dead child years after he’d died—Aidan could sympathize—but it was a mortal sin in his book to treat her living one like she was dead too. Frankly, it had taken all his willpower not to call the woman on it. Couldn’t she see what she was doing to Dana?