Slow Burn (Smoke Jumpers)

by Anne Marsh

  “Oh, my God.” The yell peeled away from her lips because she couldn’t stop it. Rio sauntered toward them, his fist pumping toward the sky, an answering yell coming from his own mouth.

  Quick and hard, Evan’s finger tipped her head up and back. Her head hit his shoulder, and his mouth came down on hers, the contact awkward and raw and delicious. Right at that moment there was only the two of them, kneeling together in this unfamiliar meadow, while the plane pulled away overhead and the other jumpers hung in the sky. His mouth tasted every bit as wild as the ride down. Rough and male, the sweet, hard pressure of that mouth opened her up.

  God, he tasted so good. She didn’t want to close her eyes—she wanted to see his face, fierce and intense, as he kissed her and the sky filled up with jumpers landing around them. The erotic heat of his kiss was burning her up, his mouth moving, taking hers. She loved the sensation of being connected to him there, too, and not only by the harness that held her to his chest.

  So good.

  She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his. Their tandem harness made the position awkward, and on this field, she was vulnerable. Exposed for the whole world to see, and yet she wanted the moment to go on and on. He must have felt the same way, because he tugged off his gloves and tangled his fingers in her hair, angling her head back farther. Yes.

  “You like that?” he asked when he finally stopped, and she had no idea whether he meant his kiss or the jump. She wanted both.

  “God, yes. Let’s do it again.”

  “We’ll make a jumper of her yet.” Rio dropped down beside them. He’d seen that kiss. She didn’t care. His hands worked the buckles, releasing her from the harness and Evan. Pulling her upright. She was riding high on the adrenaline rush of the landing, impossibly aware of herself and Evan. A handful of minutes strapped to his chest and then the landing. Those big arms tucking her firmly into the curve of his body as he took the impact of hitting the ground for both of them.

  All she’d had to do was hang on and enjoy.

  More. She wanted more. More adventure, more Evan. Adventuring with him was deliciously wicked—and precisely the adrenaline rush she’d been looking for. Falling through the air, wrapped up in his arms, she’d known she was living her life and not merely documenting the lives of other people.

  He was a good choice. Evan Donovan was a big, tough bear of a man and a former Marine, she’d learned. She’d bet he was always first in, last out at a fire. Protect and defend—that was his motto. His rules would be real simple. You came home alive, you’d done just fine. This was a man who was all aim and shoot and so very, very rough around the edges—but looking at him, watching him defend Strong with everything he had, there was no way she could stop the erotic fantasies teasing her senses. This man would keep her safe every time, everywhere—and yet he was one of the boys of summer, and he damn sure wasn’t happily-ever-after material.

  Evan Donovan was happy-right-now material.

  Chapter Eight

  Evan hadn’t meant to kiss Faye. Hell, kissing was not what a jump instructor did. It was unprofessional. It sent the wrong message to anyone watching. But nothing so wrong had ever felt so good or so right. He’d kissed her once and then twice, and all he could think was that the third time would be the charm.

  Rio had brought her camera to the landing site, and she’d gleefully snatched it from him, snapping shots of the boys coming down around them. This was a job for her. He was merely the means to her end, and that was okay, too, because he needed something from her, and it wasn’t sex, no matter how much his unruly erection wanted things to be otherwise.

  Instead, he evaluated the rest of the team on their practice run. Most of the day’s jumpers hit the meadow free and clear, but Joey had almost hung up on a stand of ponderosa on the far side of the clearing. The wind had shifted suddenly on him, and there hadn’t been much the guy could do but steer hard and curse louder. He’d missed the trees but hit the pond. Evan would take soggy over splinters any day.

  From the outside, the day’s jumps were fun and games, but no one said work had to be all solemn and sober. It certainly wasn’t a game when they went out the door and hit the air. They all knew that. He wondered, however, if Faye did.

  Or if she only saw the adrenaline rush and the adventure of it all.

  As Spotted Dick brought the plane around and lined her up with the runway, Faye turned away and headed back toward the hangar on the other side of the meadow. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with the same emotion, so he figured he’d kept his end of their deal so far. He’d given her that adventure she craved so badly. He hadn’t been sure, when he’d gotten her up there and by the edge of the open doorway, if she’d actually go through with the jump. And that would have been okay, too. Plenty of guys got up there and decided that jumping was a big no-thanks for them.

  And then she’d put her hand in his and let him take her out the door. He’d jumped with her, and his reward had been the feel of her against him all the way down and through the tuck and roll. Jumping with her had been sexy as hell, and the only thought in his head had been how he wanted to see her naked, all stripped down and bare. Then he’d hit the ground and come up with her laughing on his chest—demanding he take her right on up again.

  Faye Duncan was game.

  He had to admire that about her.

  “You coming?” she yelled over at him, and damned if she wasn’t waiting for him. She’d declined a spare set of steel-toes and had kept her own running shoes, but she was swimming in the canvas jumpsuit the smallest member of the team usually wore. Her goggles were shoved back on her head, and that pretty honey-brown hair of hers was all spiked up around her face. She was a delicious, windblown mess.

  “We’re done here, right?” She looked around the clearing, but the other guys were headed back in, and Spotted Dick was bringing the plane in. On the other side of the meadow, the wheels hit the runway, and the roar of the engine backing off filled the air. Game over.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’re done here. Let’s go on in.”

  “Okay.” She fell into step beside him, and he slowed up some because she was almost waddling in that suit. Her rueful grin said she knew it, too. It was good that she could laugh at herself. She wanted to live in the moment and he could understand that, too. Sometimes it wasn’t a good idea to look too far behind you—or too far forward.

  “So now what?” She capped her lens and shouldered the camera.

  That was the question, wasn’t it? He needed to decide where he was taking this thing between them and then see if she wanted to come along for that ride, too. And this was undoubtedly the right moment to tell her about Mike. She’d have something to say about her ex’s request that Evan keep an eye on her. He was no expert on how women thought, but he knew that much. If he told her, though, she’d pull back on him. There wouldn’t be this companionable walk to the hangar.

  And he wanted this walk.

  “I need to know something. You got someone waiting for you back in L.A.?” He wanted to hear what she’d say. Maybe she was done with Mike Thomas. Maybe she wasn’t. Either way, he suddenly needed to know.

  Because he’d kissed her. Again.

  And she’d kissed him back.

  Christ. This was not supposed to be happening. And yet . . . he’d gotten his mouth on hers, and he’d stopped thinking. All he could do was hang on and feel. All his plans had gone right on out the window when he’d started kissing Faye Duncan. And, of course, he had no idea if she felt the same way. She clearly didn’t mind his lips on hers, but that didn’t mean she wanted him back in bed with her.

  She shook her head ruefully. “Evan, you tucked me into your bed for a night, and now you’re asking me that question?”

  “Do you?” he repeated.

  “No.” She opened her mouth, then closed it. His erection said that that half-assed answer would have to be good enough.

  “I put you in that bed because you needed somewh
ere to sleep. If you have someone back home, he should trust you. He shouldn’t be asking questions about what you do or don’t do when you’re away from him.”

  “You don’t think he’d care what I did?” She tossed the words behind her as she crossed the empty floor of the hangar. A muted roar of noise from the guys packing it up leaked out of the locker room. Done training for the day, his team would strip off their gear, head back out to the cabins, and relax until the next call came in. That was their summer. That was what it took to get the job done.

  “I think he’d care lots, darlin’,” he growled. “That’s not what I said at all. I said he should be trusting you. You want someone playing twenty questions with you every time you’re out of his sight?”

  She pulled down the zipper on her jumpsuit. Logically, he knew she had to take the suit off. Needed to return it. Still, it felt like she was undressing for him in an erotic prelude to something really, really good.

  He definitely shouldn’t have kissed her.

  Christ, that kiss was going to haunt him longer than he could afford. The soft rub of her lips against his after she’d opened up and let him do whatever he wanted to her mouth—right before she’d kissed him back. The bulky fabric of the jumpsuit parted over her breasts. And he couldn’t stop watching, following the path of those fingers. She didn’t know what she did to him.

  “I just got divorced, Evan. No one’s waiting for me back in L.A., with or without twenty questions. Right now, what I want is some fun. I want to live a little.” She shot him a grin. “Live a lot. Whichever opportunity comes up first.”

  He should take her back to the firehouse. His truck was right outside the hangar, and he could have her back there in under ten. He could give her the lowdown on some of the other adventurous possibilities he’d come up with, and she’d see he knew exactly how to hold up his end of their bargain.

  She pulled the camera off her shoulder, then paused, flipping through the pictures she’d gotten as if she couldn’t wait to see. He’d bet she was the kind of person who poked her Christmas presents. “My editor is going to love these. In two weeks,” she added hastily.

  He nodded. He didn’t need the reminder, not right now, when his head was trying to figure out a way to take their deal to a whole new level.

  “You ever take a gamble, Evan? Play some poker? Spend a weekend in Vegas?”

  “I’m not much for gambling.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. God. He could watch her for hours. There was plenty of mischief in her eyes right now. He wasn’t sure where she was taking this conversation, but damned if he wanted it to end. So he’d feed her the next line. “I like a sure thing. Facts. Two and two adding up to four.”

  He heard her little hum, but then the jumpsuit pooled around her ankles, and she was stepping out of it, all long, golden legs. She bent over to pick up the jumpsuit, and he about jumped out of his skin. His hands itched to reach out and pull her back toward him. She was flat-out beautiful, his golden girl of summer.

  She wasn’t done playing twenty questions, however. “You ever want to have an adventure, take a chance?”

  “Sure,” he growled, because right now he was willing to risk everything on the chance that she’d take him into her bed. There was a little click, metal hanger meeting rod, and she stowed the borrowed suit back inside the locker where it belonged. Which left her standing there almost naked, as far as he was concerned, because those short-shorts of hers barely covered her ass. No way he could keep his gaze where it belonged when she showed him all that warm, bare skin.

  “You think I’m pretty.” The way she examined his face while she said that absolutely ridiculous, impossible-to-deny truth said she wasn’t sure what to think about it. Then she smiled. As if her head had decided it was okay for him to look at her. “That’s good,” she continued.

  “Facts are facts.” He didn’t know who had convinced her she wasn’t pretty, but the urge to hit someone was waking up fast.

  “You’re sweet.” Now she sounded delighted. “Evan Donovan, you have a soft spot.”

  He had several. He simply didn’t advertise them. It was hard enough running security for Donovan Brothers. He took mavericks and molded them into a team, convinced them that, yes, there were a few rules meant to be followed. Maybe a man didn’t care much about keeping himself safe, but his team was a whole different story. The team came first, and the team stayed safe. Those were his rules, and he made sure no one broke them. His face and his size helped convince the jumpers to eat that serving of tough love, and being nice was a liability.

  “Keep it to yourself,” he suggested.

  “Keeping secrets?” she asked lightly.

  She had no idea.

  “Where does that go?” She nodded toward a utilitarian set of metal stairs.

  “Loft. We rig the chutes up there.”

  She looked him over, and damned if he knew what was going on in that head of hers. “That works for me.” She took two steps toward those stairs, and right when he started to wonder what she was doing, she turned and held out her hand to him. “Well,” she said, “are you coming or not?”

  That was a kicker. He stood there like an idiot and stared at her.

  “Let’s go on up there, and I’ll kiss you some more.”

  She didn’t wait for him to figure it out, just danced up the stairs ahead of him, all laughter and tease. He was definitely in foreign territory now. Hell. When had this happened to him? He scared the shit out of most of the world. He knew it. And yet she clearly wanted more of him, and his plans for a careful seduction flew right on out the goddamn window.

  Because she was seducing him.

  He scaled that stairway like it was a two-hundred-foot ponderosa and he had to get to the top because he had a fire licking his ass. Women chased Rio. They chased Jack. Him? They gave him a wide berth. He hit the loft, and there she was, waiting for him, her back to the wall, watching him come. He knew he should say something. This wasn’t the right moment to keep his mouth shut, but, holy hell, what could he say to her? Other than please?

  “Faye—” He got her name out, but, God, that name didn’t do her justice.

  “Shh.” Leaning forward, she slipped her palm over his mouth. “There’s nothing to talk about, Evan. Just shut up and enjoy the ride.”

  She gave him back his words, and then damned if she didn’t kiss him, exactly like she’d promised.

  She reached up, sliding her arms around his neck and tugging his head down to hers. Yeah. That was good. She got her mouth on his, and that was even better. She was soft where he was hard. The sexy little rubbing thing she was doing had him growling. God. He fisted his hands by his sides because he didn’t want to spoil this or scare her off. Then her tongue darted out and licked the closed seam of his lips, and that was it. He got his hands on her waist, lifting her up against the wall and his body. He was on fire, and burning had never felt so good. Her mouth devoured him, her sweet hunger feeding his own.

  She was so goddamn perfect, and he didn’t want this kiss to end.

  When she finally pulled back, however, he reluctantly let her go. Because, despite the space she’d put between them, the look in her eyes said she wasn’t done with him. The hoarse sough of their breathing filled up the silence, and somewhere, distantly, he heard guys leaving. The jump team was wrapping up until the next call, all done, even though here he and Faye were, just getting started. She pushed him down onto the pile of packed chutes, and he went. He suspected she could have shoved him right out of the loft, and he’d have enjoyed the fall.

  This was faster and harder and far naughtier than he’d expected. Or dreamed, if he was being honest with himself. His angel had a wicked streak. Damn, she was a fantasy come to life, and if she needed to be the one in control, well, he was more than willing to give her exactly what she needed. He didn’t know what had happened to her before she’d come on out here to Strong, but something had. She was a woman with something to prove. And he was
the lucky man who got to prove it.

  Then he stopped thinking. All he could do was hang on and feel.

  Her hands went to work, undoing his jumpsuit and sliding the heavy fabric out of the way. His boxers went next, and he heard his own rough growl of appreciation when she found his bare skin.

  “Oh, damn, Evan,” she whispered throatily, reaching out to wrap a palm around him. “You’re going to be so good.”

  God, he hoped so. The soft touch of those fingers gripping him, tugging him toward her, had him growing harder and longer, his erection begging for more of her. She sank to her knees between his parted legs, her hand letting go of him to skim gently, teasingly, up his inner thighs.

  “But I’m not going to be good at all,” she promised. Her lips followed her hands, drawing his balls into her mouth and tugging gently downward. He groaned, and heat exploded through him. The pleasure was fast and hot, and he’d never expected this, never dreamed she’d want him like this. Her hands made the return trip up his thighs, massaging the sensitive area between his balls and his ass.

  “Faye,” he bit out, the pleasure making his hips rise toward her in silent demand. He wanted to make love to her, give her the same kind of pleasure she was giving him, but he wasn’t going to be able to hold on for long. Not the way she was touching him.

  She lifted her head. “I told you I was going to be bad, Evan.”

  “Darlin’,” he groaned, “you have no idea.”

  With a little smile, she wrapped her hands around his shaft, her small hands fisting him as she stroked downward. Then back up again, in a torturous, agonizingly delicious return journey until her mouth met her fingers and slipped down over the head of him. Her tongue traced a damp, hot path, and he bit back a yell. He was wet, from her and from him, and the wicked look on her face promised more. Much more.

  “Faye,” he gritted out, the sensual exploration of her mouth making his fists clench. Instead of answering, her tongue worked around the head of his erection. Her hands cupped and massaged his balls while her tongue licked and licked. Tasting him in a wicked, heated glide as her hands gently squeezed his shaft.