HEARTfire_All Heart Series

by Tracie Douglas

  I didn’t sleep at all. I couldn’t. Not with her sleeping in peace, gorgeous honey-colored hair splayed out against my dark sheets, the sound of her chest rising and falling with each breath. I tried, for the sake of my body, to keep a bit of distance between us. Having her that near was a temptation I refused to give in to.

  I don’t fuck women who are too drunk to know what they’re signing up for. Not ever. But I’m not the kind of asshole who would let someone choke on their own drunken vomit either. And so, it was for that reason alone I pulled back the covers and lay down beside her.

  Seeing her now, her hair in a sexy mess, sheet pulled up to her chin, it took everything in me not to pounce and claim her body. Fuck, how I wanted to pull back that sheet and pick up where we’d left off last night, and bury myself balls deep into her warmth pussy.

  Even though I saw the way she reacted to me, my body, and the memories of what transpired between us last night, she was too skittish. Too unsure of what happened.

  I, on the other hand, am completely sure of her. Of my want. Of my need. And of the eventuality of us. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her last night that she was different. It was her laughter that called to me in the crowded room. Seeing her completely at ease with herself, I felt drawn to her.

  I never wanted to know a woman so badly in my life, so the moment our eyes connected, I made my move and crossed the room toward the blue-eyed, curvy goddess.

  Viv.

  Vivi.

  Vivienne.

  Mine.

  She has no idea the power she holds in her hands. The beauty she possesses.

  She’s curvy in all the right places, and my hands itch to run along those curves. I can’t get the fantasy of her bent over the hood of my Charger out of my head, skirt pushed up to her waist, while I hook my hands at her hips and drill her from behind. I jerked off imaging the sounds of her coming, milking my cock for all I can give her, all the while wishing for the real thing.

  She is everything, but that confidence I saw in her from across the room only goes so deep.

  And that kills me.

  My Vivienne was polite but standoffish, and she didn’t make it easy for me to talk to her. It wasn’t until she had a few drinks in when the reason slipped.

  “Is this some kind of cruel joke?” She leaned in and asked. The loud music made it difficult to hear anything, but her words weren’t lost on me.

  “What are you talking about?” I took advantage of her nearness and shifted closer. The heat of her body was only inches from mine, and the scent of strawberries filled my nose.

  “Men like you don’t talk to women like me.” She used a beautifully sculpted fingernail to point between us.

  “Women like you?”

  “Women with a little more on the bone. Let’s face it, I’m not a size two, Wade.”

  “No, you’re perfect.”

  I could see the doubt in her eyes again this morning, and I wanted to erase it instantly. I wanted to bow down at her feet and worship her with my tongue, pushing out any idea in her beautiful head that tells her she is less than perfect.

  I knew the moment our lips touched I was a goner, and made it my life’s mission to make her mine and to cherish her.

  The sound of my bedroom door closing and her bare feet treading across my hardwood floors interrupts my thoughts as I crack the first egg on the hot skillet. I don’t know how I managed to pull everything out. My thoughts were filled with her and her tempting body.

  When she comes into the kitchen wearing one of my shirts and a pair of my jersey knit pants rolled at the waist, I stifle a groan. She looks good despite the fact that the pants are still too long for her though they pool perfectly at her bare toes. After a thorough mental image, one I file away in my growing spank-bank file with her name engraved into it, I look at the white mug in her hand and smile. “Do you need a refill?”

  She nods, and I take the mug, filling it and my own. Handing it back to her, I lean down to press a soft kiss against her forehead before reaching down and running my hand along the shape of her ass. My body craves more, considering I had my tongue down her throat and my hand up her skirt moments before she passed out in my bed. I ignore the craving and go back to the eggs.

  I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she contemplates her next move, clearly thrown by my kiss and sneaky caress, but she doesn’t say anything to keep me from doing it again. Something I take mental note of.

  “Toast?” I ask, trying to act like what transpired isn’t a big deal, while my heart hammers in my chest. There is so much more I want to do to this woman, and it’s difficult to hold back.

  “Oh, um, sure.” She looks around the room and spots the toaster three feet from me.

  “I got it,” I tell her before she gets it in her head to help. She’s probably anxious to leave, but I’m not ready to take her home. There’s something about her, and having her here in my space does something to me no other woman has been able to do. And there have been plenty of women who’ve tried. “Sit down, relax. Bottle of aspirin is on the counter.” I barely recall placing the bottle there when I came back into the kitchen, but there it is.

  “Thank you,” she whispers softly and opens the bottle, quickly tossing a couple back. She sips her coffee and licks the liquid from her lips. My cock begins to swell as the thought of her pink tongue darting out to run along the length of my shaft forms. “You don’t have to make me breakfast.”

  “I want to, babe.” I toss a smirk over my shoulder at her, purposely using the word ‘babe’ to get a reaction. She blushes. Fuck, this is going to be more fun than I initially thought. “You just sit your sweet ass down on that barstool and let me take care of this. You stay at my place, I make you breakfast. You can pay me back with dinner.”

  “‘Kay,” she murmurs, then her blue eyes survey the room, soaking up every detail. Her eyes rest on the duffle bag I keep next to the door and the emblem stitched into the side pocket. She perks up a moment before her eyes sidle back to me. I busy myself with placing her eggs on a plate, not missing the surprise in her voice. “You’re a firefighter?”

  “Yes, I run the station. I’m the fire chief,” I drawl, suddenly feeling like a douchebag for correcting her. There’s a lot about last night she doesn’t remember, and I’m sure our small talk is on that list. I feel more out of my element with each passing moment, unable to do what I really want to her for fear of scaring her away.

  “I knew that already, didn’t I?” The room grows quiet, neither of us knowing what to say, but also because of the things I want to say. “I don’t usually drink like that.”

  I have the feeling what she is saying is true, not that it took much to get her to the point of drunkenness. It didn’t. I counted each drink that touched her pouty lips from the moment she walked into the bar with her red-headed friend. The more she drank, the more she settled into herself and the more attention she began to pull from the men around her. Attention that wavered once I stood next to her side, my arm wrapped around her back, hand at the curve of her waist.

  “You had something important to celebrate,” I nod knowingly. Tori, her red-headed friend, who had remained sober, was the one who told me what they were celebrating. Graduation, but not just your average run of the mill. Vivienne was about to receive her master’s degree in fine art.

  “I told you?” Her beautiful blue eyes widen in shock.

  “Yes.” I carry two plates of food over to the counter and sit down beside her, picking up my own cup of coffee. A feeling of pride fills my chest when I think about all the hard work and dedication my woman put into the things she feels passionate about. I’ve experienced that passion firsthand. “You should be proud. It’s a great accomplishment.”

  She picks up a fork and pushes her eggs around the plate while she’s vibrating with nerves. The confidence found in only a few shots has disappeared, and I watch her shrug into herself. My beautiful goddess doesn’t like to be the center of attention, a discovery
I find refreshing. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Vivienne, don’t do that. You worked hard, and you should be proud. I know I am.” She watches me with avid eyes, unsure of my sincerity, and I know an experience with someone in her past has given her reason to doubt me. Someone has hurt her, and it kills me that I can’t take that away from her. At least, not yet.

  “Do you know where my phone is, by chance?” she asks softly, changing the subject. I mentally kick myself for not thinking she’d want that and her purse. Rising from my spot beside her, I walk into the next room and grab both items, bringing them back into the kitchen with me. She takes them from me with a smile before unlocking her phone and staring down at it. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my friend. I’ve missed a few calls, and now she’s worried. Um, excuse me, I need to call her back.” She stands suddenly and heads back toward the bedroom without looking back.

  I take a breath, listening as she speaks in hushed tones into her phone. Something’s going on. I just hope this isn’t the end of my morning with her. I’m trying my hardest not to come onto her so strong for fear of frightening her away, but it’s making me feel like I’m like someone I’m not.

  If I’m going to pursue this woman, then I need to do it on my terms, as the man I am and will always be. I usually don’t tiptoe around what I want. I go after it with everything I am. I’ll be damned if I change it now.

  I want her.

  Vivienne.

  And I’m not going to let her go.

  4

  Vivienne

  I have five missed calls and a number of text messages since the last time I checked, but only one call is from Tori. The rest are from my mother and my overbearing boss at the art gallery I work part-time at. I’m supposed to be at the gallery by now, helping set up for a show we’re hosting tonight.

  Jeffery, my boss, put me in charge this time around, so he could spend more time with his new girlfriend. While I’m grateful for the chance to oversee this event, I’m more than ready for it to be over. He’s been a thorn in my side since the moment this event was given to me, always second-guessing me and going behind my back to change plans. I’ve done everything but pull every last strand of my hair out to keep from opening my mouth and telling him to shove it up his ass. If I didn’t need the connection so bad, I would’ve done it already.

  Ignoring his messages and calls because I’m not ready to deal with his shit, I dial Tori’s number, ready to lay into her for leaving me last night.

  “Vivi,” she exclaims, her voice too cheery for the morning, but I’m not having any of it.

  “Where in the hell are you?” I demand, using the mom voice she always teases me about.

  “Good morning to you, too, buttercup. How are you feeling this morning?” Tori chuckles, and I groan.

  “I can’t believe you left me last night after promising me—”

  “Whoa, wait a second, Vivi. You left me,” she cuts me off.

  “I did not,” I argue, because that’s not the kind of person I am. I don’t leave my friends behind.

  “You totally did.” She pauses a moment, letting the words sink into my hard head. “Speaking of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, did he give you a ride on his firehose? How was it? I bet his cock is huge. A big, tall guy like that has to be packing.”

  “Tori!” I exclaim, feeling my face flush hot. “I can’t believe you just—”

  “Stop being such a prude, Vivi,” she teases. I’ve never been the type to kiss and tell, and I’m not about to start now. “Tell me already, bitch, did you get laid?”

  “If you must know, no, I did not get laid,” I tell her, hearing the disappointment in my own words. I’m too embarrassed to tell her how I passed out across his bed, half-naked, instead of ending my eighteen-month dry spell. It’s not like I wanted to go so long without sex. There just hasn’t been anyone in my life I wanted to do the deed with.

  “You’re joking, right? You two were all over each other before you left the bar. I’m surprised you didn’t fuck him right there on the barstool next to me.” I groan, remembering how much we were all over one another. Which, if I’m honest, I couldn’t control. I tend to get extremely lovey when I drink too much.

  “That’s another thing. How could you let me leave the bar with a complete stranger?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “As if I could have stopped you,” she huffs, and I can picture her eye roll. “Besides, the man is one outstanding citizen, not to mention that ass. Fuck, Vivi, I’m so jealous of you. You nabbed the hottest guy in the bar.”

  “Don’t act like you went home alone.” I shake my head, peering around his bedroom once again. “Which of his buddies did you go home with? Please tell me it wasn’t the goofy looking one with that stupid tribal band tattoo.”

  “Hey, now, don’t knock the tribal band. There’s nothing wrong with a little ink.” She went home with the goofy tattoo guy. What was his name again? Marco? Or was that Jason? Fuck it, it takes too much brain power to remember who was who.

  “I agree, so long as the person doing the inking doesn’t purposely mess up and make it look like he had little tiny dicks wrapped around his arm.” Tori’s laughter fills the line, and I can’t help myself and join in. There’s a lot about the night I’m starting to remember, including the fire that burned between Wade and me from the start.

  Tori’s right. I need to stop acting like a prude, but it’s hard to turn it off. It’s become a sort of defensive mechanism, keeping me from getting my heart trampled. Which has happened more often than I’m willing to admit.

  Although, I’ve never felt a connection like the one I have with Wade, which scares me. I don’t tell Tori any of this, because if I do, my best friend will tell me to hang up the phone, walk back into the kitchen, and claim my man.

  My man.

  The thought sends shivers throughout my body.

  But that isn’t right. He isn’t mine.

  We just met.

  Even if he did feel the same connection, he’s out of my league.

  “Vivi, Jason just walked back in. I’ll be home later,” Tori says hurriedly, pulling me away from my wandering thought.

  “I’m not at home,” I tell her, and I hear a shocked gasp from her end. “I’m still here, with Wade. I’ll text you when I get home, if I don’t see you first.”

  “Damn, girl, maybe I should take back the comment about being a prude,” she exclaims, sounding impressed, but I try not to care. “Be cool and remember to wrap his tool.”

  “Oh, my god, Tori, what am I going to do with you?” I shake my head, holding back my laughter. The last thing I need to do is encourage the woman. “It’s not like that.”

  “I love you, Vivi, but I’ve got to go,” she says before squealing with laughter and disconnecting the call. Grateful she didn’t catch that last part, I place my phone onto the dresser and study myself in the in mirror hanging on the wall above it.

  I lift my hands and attempt to run my fingers through the mess that sits on top of my head, but it’s pointless. Taking a deep breath, I straighten the large T-shirt, loving the way it hides the parts of me I’m not happy with. The fabric is soft against my skin and smells like sandalwood and spice, the same scent I woke up to. I glance over at the dress I wore last night and contemplate putting the thing back on. I need to if I want to go home.

  A gentle knock, and then Wade’s voice comes from the other side of the bedroom door. I freeze, listening to my heart thump loudly in my chest. “Vivienne, is everything okay?”

  I take a deep breath and release it softly and slowly. I open my mouth to answer, but my phone pings, and I glance down at it.

  Jeffery.

  I unlock my phone again, this time pulling up the text messages he’s sent. They start at five-thirty this morning, and since then they’ve progressed from concern to outright anger. His current text all but firing me.

  “I’ll be out in a moment!” I call out to
Wade and pull his T-shirt over my head. I need to get home and get ready to go into work. I message Jeffery back with an apology and reassure him that I will be there soon.

  After pulling on my dress and heels, I make one more attempt at my hair, but without a hairbrush, there isn’t much I can do. Instead, I embrace the bedhead and fluff it. Smoothing down my dress once more, I turn and leave the safety of Wade’s bedroom, praying like hell my stomach doesn’t ruin the rest of the day for me.

  5

  Vivienne

  I find Wade in the same place I left him, sitting at the bar, our breakfast now cold.

  “I’m sorry, Wade, but I’ve got a work thing and need to get going.” I clutch my purse tightly in my hands and watch his face fall. “I’m going to call an Uber. If I could give me your address to give them, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “I’ll take you home.” He pushes away from the counter, sets down his empty mug, and moves past me toward his bedroom. “Let me change.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say, but he ignores me. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  He stops in the middle of his hallway and turns back around to face me. “Have dinner with me.”

  “Have dinner with you?” I respond robotically. These are not words I imagined falling from his lips. My mouth hangs open, as my brain is slow to process his words. How can he want dinner with me? He’s gorgeous, and I’m...

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, leaving me flushing all over my body. I swallow hard.

  “I can’t. I have a show tonight.”

  “The gallery?” He lifts an eyebrow before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

  “Yes.” I nod. Another piece of last night’s conversation falls into place.

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  “I have a shift at the center tomorrow,” I explain. Along with my job at the gallery, I work at the local community center’s after school program. It’s my turn to host our weekly late-night study session. A few of the kids are planning to take the SATs with hopes of college in their future.