His hands fumbled at the waistband of her jeans. She helped him, her hips thrusting upward with a mind of their own, wanting to feel his touch, his warm skin, his—Now!
Her heart pounded and she licked her lips, excited sounds erupting from her throat. Her stomach fluttered and she felt breathless, hot all over and super sensitive to every touch, every noise, every muscle in his body as he hovered over her. Every nerve ending was alive with sensation as he gently tugged her pants down past her knees. She managed to shove her shoes off and between the both of them, her pants soon lay in a pile by her feet. As if by instinct, she twisted onto her back and spread her knees a little, allowing him enough room to nestle between them. She still wore her lace-edged bikini underwear.
She arched upward again, reaching for him, inviting him to press his weight down on her. He didn’t. Bracing himself on his elbows, he worshipped one breast, then another, taking the entire nipple and areola into his mouth and then, circling his tongue, slowly lifted his head upward, taking her nipple with it. Oh, God. She was on fire. She grabbed the belt loops of his jeans, wanting to take them off, to take this all the way . . .
Fuck. She arched her back again as his mouth relinquished her breast and his tongue traced the curve underneath, then down along her stomach and lower abdomen. Nuzzling, kissing, his hot breath left goose bumps all over her body. Her pussy was hot and wet, contracting with every pulse of her heart. She wanted him inside her, deep inside. She forgot where she was, forgot everything except the delicious sensations he elicited with his glorious tongue. He dipped lower.
She relinquished her grip on his belt loops and slid her fingers along his back, every muscle delineated as she ran her fingers upward. By the time his warm breath hovered over her mound, her hands gently grasped his shoulders. His hot breath on her pussy, even through the underwear, prompted her to spread her legs even wider. Her hips thrust upward, craving his touch.
And touch her he did. Through her underwear, she felt him nibbling. Then his tongue slid down along the crevice of her inner thigh, just teasing the skin at the edge of her panties. She was going to explode. He didn’t touch her core with anything but his tongue, one hand cupping each breast, his thumbs slowly circling, tweaking, and teasing the nipples. Her breath came faster. The blood pounded through her veins. His tongue stroked slowly and deliberately up and down along the edge of the underwear, incessantly teasing.
Do it! Do it!
Her thoughts screamed. As if he read her mind, his tongue maneuvered underneath the side of the underwear, stroked briefly against her lower lips and found her slick sex. She bit back a gasp, the desire so strong that her hips automatically shifted upward to meet his lingering caress. With a low chuckle, he used his teeth to slowly peel down her panties until she was fully exposed to his view. His mouth dipped down to her clit, suckling, teasing, tweaking with his tongue, as his fingers mimicked the action on her nipples. God, she was going to explode.
He made a noise and the sound vibrated through her very core, nearly jolting her up off the bed of the SUV. Then his tongue was sliding again, down her lips, leaving a trail of sensation that had her internal muscles tightening hard as he stroked. Down, until she felt his tongue venture inside, thrusting up into her core. She grasped at his head as his tongue darted forward again, his lips nuzzling against her, and then he suckled again. Made another noise in his throat, the vibrations making her grind herself against the pressure of his mouth.
The intensity was so strong that she couldn’t help herself. Her hips circled, her pussy circling against his mouth, inviting him to stroke, lick, and suckle. He sucked on her lower lips and she writhed against him until he focused his attention back on her clit. His warm tongue worked its magic and wetness slicked her thighs, hot and wet with desire. Throbbing, nearly feverish now, she continued to slowly move against him. His mouth and tongue encouraged her. His fingers clasped her breasts, kneading them one second, his fingers tugging at her nipples the next. Every cell in her body alive with delicious sensations. Fuck, she was going to come. She couldn’t stop it. It was building ever stronger with each passing second. The movement of her hips became jerky. She pushed upward, wanting him to suckle harder, stroke deeper with his tongue. He obliged.
Pleasure gripped her as her core pulsed in rhythmic waves. White flashed behind her eyelids as the sensations that rose inside her body sent her over the edge. She pushed against him, lifting her hips, wanting everything he had to give. Ecstasy thundered through her as sensation pulsed through her, filling her with warmth and pleasure. Bliss. Finally, she collapsed back onto the floor, her body lethargic and still pulsating with the aftermath.
Liam watched her, a gentle smile lifting the corner of his lips. His pupils were dilated with pleasure of his own. Did she look like that to him? Eyes wide, face flushed, lips slightly open, chest rising and falling with excitement? She glanced down at herself, lying half-naked in the back of his SUV, her T-shirt and bra shoved up over her breasts, her legs spread, her underwear tucked below her knees, her jeans in a pile by her right foot.
She didn’t move for what seemed like forever. Liam looked his fill and she let him, not the least bit embarrassed. She glanced at his jeans, saw the definite bulge of his cock and reached for it. His turn. But he shifted his hips, leaned back on one arm, and shook his head.
“We should get back to the firehouse,” he said softly.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had he changed his mind? Was he having second thoughts already? But then he grinned again and leaned down to kiss her gently yet briefly on her lips.
“We can continue this later,” he promised. “For now, we better get back to the firehouse. I’d much rather stay here of course, but . . .”
He was right. She nodded and reached her arms down to pull up her underwear. He watched her every move, making her feel self-conscious. Still deliciously languid, she wished more than anything that she could just lie there in his arms for awhile longer. No, first she wanted to suck him off. Now that was a first, actually wanting to give a guy a blow job. She imagined her lips wrapped around his cock, eliciting the same reactions within him that he had just done for her. The thought made her pussy start throbbing all over again.
He reached for her bra and tucked it down over her breasts, then disentangled himself from her legs, handing her the discarded jeans in the process.
“Rain check?” he grinned.
She nodded, slightly dazed and amazed that she felt so comfortable, only moments after she’d been spread naked under him. She’d only known the man for a day! She began to thread one leg and then the other into her jeans while Liam found his shirt, turned it right side out, and donned it. She watched every ripple and play of muscle as he did so.
Both dressed, he helped her out of the back of the SUV. Her knees wobbled weakly for a few seconds as she scrambled to her feet, but, the perfect gentleman, he walked her to the passenger side, watched her climb in, and then closed the door softly behind her. His footsteps crunched against the gravel as he rounded the back of the SUV, closed the gate and the hatch before moving back to the driver’s side.
He climbed in, watching as she finger-brushed her hair, then smiled. “I’m not going to apologize again.”
She smiled in return. “I’m not, either.”
Was it possible he was just as attracted to her as she was to him? The look on his face—half lust, half frustration—seemed to say so. She wasn’t going to question it. Not now. Maybe later everything would seem normal again. Right now she was going to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted. She turned to look out the windshield as he started the vehicle and made a U-turn, heading back toward town. “Let’s go see what kind of chili your friends have created.”
He laughed and nodded. “And don’t forget the booyah.”
She laughed. “No, we won’t forget the booyah, will we?”
The private joke lingered between them as he drove back toward Monroe and the firehouse, but the smile gradually fell of
f her face as the SUV bounced along the road. She was going back toward reality. Back to murder, arson, bombs, and maybe revenge and retribution.
18
Liam
Liam looked over at Meg, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. He was proud of her. Despite the amount of information dumped on her at GBI, she’d held herself together. He’d only been one step away from telling Hodges to fuck off himself, and so he could guess how upset the detective’s careless comments had made Meg. It had been obvious how anxious she’d been afterward. Even so, the panic attack she’d had in his SUV had taken him by surprise. All he’d wanted in that moment was to be there for her, to make her feel something else other than the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. He cringed. Except he’d done it again—in the back of his truck this time. Not that he regretted it for a moment. She’d been the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, but she deserved more than a quick climax in a burned-out kitchen or oral sex in the back of a truck. Next time—if she let him have a next time—he was going to do it right. He’d take hours with her.
He shifted, trying to adjust himself to hide exactly what his thoughts were doing to him, and focus back on the task at hand. He was with the guys, cleaning off the picnic tables in Meg’s back yard, and if one of them noticed . . .well, he’d never hear the end of it. He was sure they’d already noticed Meg was something more than just a fire victim to him. They’d rallied around her as if she was one of their own, which in a way, she already was.
Now you just have to work out a way to make believe that, Romeo.
By the time he and Meg had returned to the firehouse after leaving the GBI and their . . . pit stop, everything had been in full swing. No fewer than six Crockpots and skillets going. Not only had the guys decided to help out with feeding Meg’s regular visitors, but they had somehow—miraculously—turned the entire situation into an impromptu fundraiser. He had no doubt that Mason and Sloane had had something to do with that.
For a couple of hours at least, Meg had been distracted from her troubles. Sure, the kitchen needed to be restored back to its original state. And yes, there were definitely things still unresolved; she had been shot at, had problems with her ex—who didn’t—and there might be some Middle Eastern guy, a bomb maker no less, who had possible links to the arson at her house. God knew what else. Still, she had held it together. And now she was back at home with at least fifteen firefighters watching over her. He swiped the cloth over the table with a smile. She was as safe as she could get right now.
When they’d first arrived back at the firehouse, it had only been a few minutes before the before the entire company was called out to a small business fire on the other side of town. Unless it was determined suspicious, Liam would not be involved. While the others quickly dispersed, he, Sloane, and Meg remained behind, finished cooking the food, and then, unplugging the pots, carried them to their vehicles and transported everything over to Promise House. The others had arrived shortly after, a little smoky, but ready to work.
Sloane had already set up the tables out back, and had hung some lights in the trees. She had even gone so far as to place a number of Tiki poles in the back, giving the yard a gentle, welcoming ambience. A number of people from the Red Cross attended, as did a few business owners and local residents, all of whom donated cash or checks into a large glass jar that Sloane had put on the edge of one of the tables.
Liam had seen the tears shining in Meg’s eyes as she watched a few of her neighbors appear, put cash or checks into the jar, and sit down to enjoy chili and cornbread, beef stew, and even some of Dean’s chicken booyah. The tears had spilled over when members of the local Chamber of Commerce and one woman from the city council had approached Meg with checks in hand. She had hugged all of them, thanking them for their generosity and their support.
“The community here wouldn’t be the same without people like you, Meg,” the city council member said before she departed.
Liam watched the interactions and the number of people coming for food—not just the homeless, but families that couldn’t make ends meet or elderly people who lived alone. He’d been so busy with his own life, his job, that he missed a lot of things that went on in Monroe. Promise House, for example. Until the night of the fire, he didn’t know of its existence. He hadn’t realized how much the local Red Cross chapter did for the community, either. He was lucky, his life was comfortable enough. He’d be making more of an effort from now on to be involved in the community.
Unfortunately, the only resident of Promise House that showed up was Monica Chambers. She came with one of the volunteers who worked at the Red Cross shelter. She glanced around, looking for familiar faces before she approached Meg and Liam. He saw her eyeing him warily. Whether she recognized him or not from the night of the fire, he didn’t know. But he remembered her. The middle-aged brunette woman didn’t look particularly happy.
“Where are all the others?” Monica asked Meg bluntly.
“I’m not sure,” she sighed. “You did hear about Tim, didn’t you?”
Monica nodded. “The entire town knows what happened to him. Maybe that’s why no one else decided to show up. But for God’s sake, it’s the least they could do, in my opinion.”
Meg tried to brush it off. “Well, I appreciate you coming, Monica. Thank you.” She gestured toward the table with the Crockpots and stacks of sturdy paper plates, bowls, and plastic silverware. “Why don’t you get something to eat?”
The woman nodded but glanced around as if uncomfortable around so many people. “I will, in just a minute.” She glanced down at the ground then back to Meg. She cast an uncertain glance toward Liam and then pressed ahead. “I want you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Meg. But I told the cops, and I want you to know, that I declined to take a lie detector test. Nothing personal . . . I just don’t trust them.”
“It’s all right,” Meg said, smiling. She gestured to the food table. “Go on, get something to eat. We can talk in a couple of days.”
Liam was impressed that Meg could be so calm and not let on to Monica about the suspicions that the GBI detectives had of the bookkeeper. Could the woman be at all involved in any of this? She had a round, mature face and wore a no-nonsense expression. In spite of that, the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes told of a woman who also had much laughter in her life. Or at least she had in the past. Then he remembered what Hodges had said. Maybe it was just from squinting. Still, she looked like a grandmother. Not an arsonist or murderer.
Monica moved off and Liam touched Meg’s arm. “You played that very well,” he complimented.
She frowned. “I wasn’t playing, Liam. While I suppose I understand the detective’s suspicions, I can’t imagine Monica doing anything to endanger either me or Promise House. Unless they have proof, I refuse to believe it.”
He nodded. “Just remember, much of this is preliminary investigative work. The GBI always have more questions than answers before they start. They’ll take a look at all the suspects and slowly eliminate them until they find the guilty party.”
“But why suggest that I had something to do with this fire?” she asked, gesturing toward the house. “And it still doesn’t answer questions about that fifty thousand dollars that showed up in my bank account. And I certainly didn’t take out a second policy on my business.”
“Meg, they always start at the center and work their way out. Unfortunately, you’re at the center. They have to check all the nooks and crannies. Only after doing that do they widen their circle. Your residents, then friends and acquaintances. Family—”
She crossed her arms. “Well it still sucks. And what about that Mustapha guy? I wouldn’t even know how to go about contacting somebody who would set a fire, let alone a bomb maker!” She shook her head, her frown emphasizing her annoyance with the Hodges and the GBI.
“Give them time,” he soothed. “They’ll figure it all out.”
No one stayed longer than a couple of h
ours. As soon as the families and wanderers were fed, they left, saying goodbye to Meg or just nodding their thanks. Eventually, Liam and Meg were left alone to take care of the trash and to put what was left in the pots into plastic containers that, miraculously, hadn’t been destroyed in the fire. Just about finished, Liam emerged from the house to find Meg standing in the middle of the yard, arms crossed, staring into space.
“You all right?” He moved up behind her, but not too close. Every time he got too close, he felt an overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms. He didn’t want to startle her.
“Sloane did a nice job with these lights. The Tiki poles add a nice touch, don’t they?”
He nodded. Realizing she couldn’t see him, he replied. “It shouldn’t take too long to get this place back up and running. We’ll all help.” He looked around, then turned to look up at the house, looming darkly above him, the only light spilling from the kitchen window. His gaze automatically went to the opposite corner. Down there, just beyond that window, had been Tim Jefferson’s room. Where his body had been found.
Somebody obviously had it in for Meg. It wasn’t part of his job, but hell, they were way past just the job at this point. He was going to keep her safe. “You got a place to stay tonight?”
She turned to him, eyes wide with surprise. “Of course I do. I’m staying here.”
He frowned. “That might not be such a good idea.”
She raised a hand in protest. “I know, I’ll stay out of the attic until it’s been repaired, but the living room’s just fine.”
“Meg—”
“Please try to understand, Liam. My life has been turned upside down. This is my home. It’s where I feel most comfortable. I’m not going to let whoever has been doing all this drive me out of my own home.”
Fighting the Flames (Southern Heat Book 2) Page 14
