Slow Burn (Smoke Jumpers)

by Anne Marsh

  Right now the touch of those hands on her waist burned through the thin cotton of her tank top, and seeing his darkly tanned fingers on the pale fabric made her feel intensely feminine in the masculine space of the hangar. That was good, too, a delicious treat she could allow herself. In the distance, car doors slammed. Nonna and Lily were leaving and, with them, her ride. She’d need Evan to take her back to town, after all.

  She watched his face and didn’t know if that ride was a sure thing or not.

  That was one hell of a possessive look he had. He stared at her as if she was his and he wasn’t letting go until he was good and ready to do so. Which could be trouble. This was a temporary thing. She had a road to hit and a life to live. She wasn’t staying in Strong.

  And yet, oh, God, when he walked her backward with delicious intent, all her plans flew right out the window. This was Evan Donovan, big, solid, dependable Evan, who was going all primitive on her. There was no forgetting how he’d felt at her back as he’d launched them both from the plane. He’d held on to her all the way down, keeping her safe. This man was the same man—and yet not. As if he’d let go of that tight, disciplined control just a little.

  She liked it.

  She liked him.

  Her back hit a wall. Distantly, she was aware that he’d moved them into an empty space where the jumpers’ chutes hung, waiting for action. Each breath she took smelled like leather and nylon and something indescribably smoky and male.

  And then his hand slapped against the wall next to her head. “You teased me, Faye.”

  His deep growl shot straight to her belly. Oh, yeah. She remembered that pleasure. And she sure had teased him, because, God, it had been fun. “Are you complaining?” she challenged. She got her hands on his T-shirt, curling her fingers into the soft fabric. The man beneath the shirt was anything but soft.

  “Maybe I’m not,” he admitted. His other hand tightened on her waist, then started a wicked slide upward. “But I am wanting to finish what we started.”

  “We’re alone now,” she pointed out.

  “Not for long,” he growled. “You know how busy a jump hangar gets when there’s a fire? There could be a call any minute. We’ve got watches on two spots already. There could be smoke soon.”

  “You always expect trouble?”

  “It’s summer, Faye.” His thighs pushed against hers, parting hers and pinning her there. Making her want more. “There are always more fires and always more calls. There’s never enough time.”

  She was going to do this. Why not? It had been too long, and Evan was the kind of adventure she didn’t want to resist.

  “So we’ll need to be quick.”

  Bad boy.

  Faye’s earlier words still rang in Evan’s ears. A pink flush of arousal stained her cheeks, and her lips parted as she rocked his world. He recognized the greedy look in her eyes as she watched him, waiting for him to make up his mind. As if there was any doubt about his decision. He wanted her badly. He was simply afraid that he would hurt her.

  “Faye,” he rasped. “We should slow down.”

  She shook her head, her fingers tightening in his T-shirt. “That’s not what I want.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said pointedly. Christ. He was so big, and she was so very, very small.

  “You won’t,” she said confidently, and her fingers smoothed the fabric of his shirt against his chest, finding his nipple. She stroked, and he groaned. The sound hung in the air between them, raw and needy. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Evan.”

  He was glad she was so sure, but he still didn’t know why she’d want to do this. Her ex was a fireman. Why would she pick a smoke jumper for a quick summer fling? Adventure, his brain supplied. Sex? Maybe.

  “This isn’t the kind of thing I usually do,” he warned, because she needed some kind of heads-up here. He wasn’t Rio, and he didn’t seduce countless women. He wanted to make Faye Duncan an exception, though. Her he wanted.

  “You don’t play sexy games in the hangar?” Her mouth curled up at the corners, pure naughtiness. Her hands moved over his chest and over his shoulders, as if she enjoyed the simple feel of him. That soft, slow glide of her skin over his clothed body was setting him on fire, though. He wanted more. He wanted whatever she would give him.

  “No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You might have the wrong brother here.”

  “I’m pretty sure I have the one I want.” That naughty grin peeked up at him again, her hands meeting behind his neck to tug him toward her. “You’re more than enough bad boy for me, Evan, so shut up and kiss me.”

  If Faye wanted bad boy, he’d give her bad boy. If she wanted him to make love to her in the Donovans’ flight hangar, he’d do that, too. She was so damned sexy, a sensual flirt who didn’t mind getting caught. The other jumpers could walk in, and she wouldn’t care. She’d let them see exactly what Evan made her feel. There was nothing sexier than that.

  “Whatever you want, you can have, darlin’.” This close, she couldn’t miss the thick ridge of his erection. He wanted her, too. This hard-on was all for her, all because of her. She looked up at him, her face dazed and flushed, and the hunger he saw there was blazing deep inside him, as well.

  He lowered his head, spun the moment out. He wanted this kiss, wanted it to last, and yet the need burning him up from the inside out said this was going to be hot and fast and over almost before it began. So he closed the little distance still between them real slow, his mouth coming down on hers in a sweet, sensual tease. Just brushing her lips with his own. Letting her know he was right there with her.

  Once, twice, his lips rubbed softly over hers. And she was soft. That mouth of hers was pure perfection, the bottom lip full and giving. He licked and tasted, learning this small piece of her. Nipped playfully and swept inside when she opened up. He kissed her and kissed her, until his own breathing was a rough sigh of sound in his ears, and he no longer knew who was kissing whom.

  “I love kissing you.” His voice sounded rough and raw, but he guessed she didn’t mind, because she shivered and pressed closer.

  “You do?” She tipped her head back, shifting closer. Her breasts pressed right up against him now.

  “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse. “You taste so damned perfect, Faye.”

  Evan picked her up effortlessly, spreading her legs around his waist. In his arms, Faye felt light and sexy and feminine. The rough fabric of his jumpsuit rubbed against her thighs, reminding her of exactly how open she was right now. Reinforcing the erotic feel of her soaked folds parting beneath too many layers of clothing. He leaned back, looking down at her. There was no hiding here, not in the daylight and not when he looked at her like that. That was okay. This was what she’d wanted.

  Evan Donovan knew exactly who he had in his arms.

  “Hold on,” he growled, and then he took her up the stairs. God, there was nothing sexier than the raw power of him, that big hand cupping her ass and the other pressed against the small of her back. He had his fingers tucked against the bottom of her pussy. Almost naughty but not quite. Her hips pressed against him, the muscles of her thighs tightening around him, and each step ratcheted up the arousal another notch, leaving her deliciously tense with anticipation. She was stretched around him. Waiting for more.

  “You liked that.”

  “I did.” God, her arousal was a slow, sweet pound. She wanted him, wanted him groaning out her name as he explored her body with those large fingers of his. As he pushed inside her where she was slick and wet with need. He’d give her whatever she needed. Whatever she wanted. The promise of that pleasure had her heating up more, his name a greedy whimper on her lips.

  He set her down for a minute. Long enough to push the jumpsuit down his legs. His erection was as big and blunt as the rest of him. She was a lucky, lucky woman.

  She touched him, and he jerked. “Someone’s eager,” she whispered, and then she reached out both hands. She was feeling a little eager herself. Eager and gr
eedy for him.

  Wrapping her fingers around his shaft, she moved her hands up and down, letting her fingers slip away when she found the tip. Gently she twisted her palm over the head where he was soft and silky hard. Her fingers relaxed and covered him, gliding down again. Her other hand closed around him, repeating the upward stroke until the center of her palm was pressed against the heat of him. Right now, he was all hers.

  “I’m getting you naked,” he warned. He wasn’t going to hear any objections from her. She wanted them both naked. Preferably about twenty minutes ago. He must have agreed, because his hands made short work of stripping off her tank top. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, so her breasts sprang free when he got the shirt off.

  His fingers unsnapped her little denim shorts. The cutoffs were too short and too small, dating from before she’d married. The thought flashed through her mind that she was probably too old for that kind of peekaboo denim, but she’d wanted to feel young again, like when she’d been in her teens and waiting for a boyfriend to pick her up.

  “If we had more time,” he said roughly, “I’d be kissing these.” His hands swept up, cupping her breasts. His callused palms weighed her, brushing against the sensitive tips.

  “But we don’t.” She wet her lips with her tongue.

  “No,” he agreed. His fingers stroked down the curve of her hip, tugging gently. Her panties were a little scrap of white nylon and lace she’d chosen because they made her feel feminine. Sexy.

  The hot look in Evan’s eyes said he liked those panties, too. A whole lot.

  His big fingers found her core through the lacy fabric, teasing the edges of where she was wet and needy for him. He’d said they had to be quick. This wasn’t quick at all.

  Three fingers glided over her, pressing in. One big finger found her clit and stroked. Moving up and then down. The hot, full burst of sensation through the lacy fabric was perfect. Not too much, until his thumb slipped beneath the edge, finding her wetness. Oh, God. She sank down, desperate for more. That wicked thumb teased and stroked, parting her just an inch and then retreating. Returning. The hangar around them was an inferno of need, the heat driving her higher.

  “I’m taking them off now.” He growled the warning, and she tensed in anticipation.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  He was as good as his word. His fingers found the delicate ribbons holding the sides of her panties together. One hard snap of his wrist and the little scrap of fabric disappeared. She needed him now. Needed to feel him deep inside her. Needed him touching her more. Her entire body was on fire, alive to his touch and his presence as she’d never been before.

  “Hurry up,” she demanded, and he braced her with one arm, leaning away for a moment to reach for his wallet. “Please,” she added, because she was willing to beg for this.

  “Whatever you want, darlin’,” he promised, his hoarse, dark words already making good that guarantee. He tore open a foil packet and rolled on a condom one-handed. “Let me take care of this. Let me keep you safe.”

  She wrapped both legs around him, spreading her thighs wide around his waist. The bunched-up fabric of his jumpsuit hit her heels, and that added to the naughty thrill. He lifted her, and the muscles of his back surged beneath her legs. He was big and raw, powerful and male—and all hers. She moaned, acknowledging that sweet truth. Right now, Evan belonged to her.

  “You going to be quiet?” he asked in a rough whisper. “You want anyone else to hear you coming for me, Faye?”

  She moaned. His hands smoothed over her skin, petting her, stroking that place where she wanted him most, and the sensation was almost agonizingly pleasurable. She needed him desperately, with an unfamiliar, wonderful ache. Her back hit the wall again, and she pushed her hips up. “You come find out, Evan.”

  His hand cupped her ass, supporting her, and the tip of him found her.

  Nothing had ever felt better.

  He held her up, cupping her bottom securely. She looked up at him, and he could feel the need rippling through her. She trusted him to hold her. To give her what she needed right now. The hunger was eating him up, and he was done holding back. He wanted to be inside her right now, and she was as ready as he was.

  Tucking his erection at her wet opening, he pushed slowly inside her. She was killing him. Inside, she was all hot and creamy. Little moans and half words spilled from her lips, and her hands found his shoulders again and urged him closer. He gave her what she wanted, just took his own sweet time about it. The heat was reaching for him, too, building into a white-hot storm of need.

  He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to drive deep inside her, sheathe himself in one swift thrust, but instead he moved inside her one hard inch at a time. And she took him. That pretty pussy of hers opened up, fisting him in hot, wet velvet.

  Harder. Deeper. Faster.

  “Tease,” she growled, nipping his shoulder with her teeth. His body answered, surging into her. He could feel the answering heat building inside her as she lifted herself up, pulling on his shoulders and then sinking back down onto him.

  “Christ.” Fighting to hold back, he moved with her, driving himself into her as she rode him. Ecstasy grabbed hold of him, and he pumped, in and out, losing himself in her heat. In Faye.

  “More,” she demanded. “Give me more, Evan.”

  His name on her lips sent him over the edge. He wasn’t some mindless smoke-jumper fantasy for her. He was Evan. He kissed her, fucking her mouth with his tongue the same way he was thrusting into her body. He pushed inside her, tangling a hand in her hair, and she welcomed him, still talking. His Faye was never quiet.

  Then she froze in his arms, pulling her mouth away from his, and he let her go. She buried her face against his neck, his name a relentless whisper against his skin. Holding her now in his arms, touching her as she came over the edge to join him, was the rawest, sweetest of secrets. Even if the entire jump team showed up, this would still be about the two of them. And then, thank God, she was coming and coming in sweet, hot contractions. She’d found what she needed, and his hands locked her in place so she could ride him, ride out that pleasure storm. This, this was what he’d wanted for her.

  “Darlin’,” he whispered. “Faye.”

  Sex with Evan was something else. Something amazing. She’d known he’d be a fantastic lover, and he had been. The emotions, however, were unexpected. She’d thought it would just be sex. A pick-me-up adventure to prove to herself that she was still sexy and desirable. Mike had chosen someone else, but this man, Evan, had chosen her.

  She’d thought that’s all it would be. Now she wasn’t sure. Maybe that was because her legs were still shaking from the most intense orgasm of her life. Maybe it was the way he’d focused on her face, fisting his hand in her hair and coaxing her over the edge. As if it wasn’t simply sex for him, either.

  Evan had known her for precisely two days. He couldn’t have feelings for her, and neither should she for him. So what if this wasn’t the kind of thing she normally did? This was adventure. So why was she uncertain now? She didn’t know if she should pull on her clothes and pound down the stairs or curl up on the floor and nap until she was certain the melted-bones feeling had left her and she could walk.

  She’d had hot, wall-banging sex with a smoke jumper.

  The sensation of him sliding free and gently lowering her legs back to the ground sent an echo of pleasure through her pussy. Her breath hitched with heated recollection and arousal. God, he was so good. So good.

  He got an arm around her waist as if he wasn’t ready to let go, either. She couldn’t believe she’d done that. With Evan Donovan. And, God, she’d do it again. When she’d caught her breath.

  He turned away for a moment, disposing of the used condom and adjusting the jumpsuit. She hadn’t even got him all the way out of his clothes.

  “Thank you.” The words shot out of her. She’d never been able to keep quiet, always had to fill up the silence, because silence was awkward.<
br />
  He stared at her; then that slow smile of his tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Those weren’t the words I was thinking of.”

  He prowled toward her, and, for a moment, he wasn’t the big, laid-back, protective man she’d met at Ma’s. He was different. Determined. Possessive.

  “What were you thinking of?” That smile of his had her curious. And nervous.

  He brushed a thumb over her mouth, lowered his head, and his lips followed that thumb in a heated, luscious kiss. “I don’t know,” he whispered against her skin, “but ‘thank you’ is for when you hold open a door or pass a beer. I don’t think ‘thank you’ is enough here.”

  He pulled back gently, and this time she didn’t hold on to him. He opened his mouth, as if maybe he’d found the words he was searching for, but his pager buzzed. She knew that sound too well.

  It was like all those nights with Mike. Nights when, whether or not they’d had sex or he’d held her, he’d gone out that door because, call or no call, the firehouse always came first. He’d made no bones about that. She’d wanted to be first but had accepted that she wouldn’t be. Still, Evan was in no rush to answer the page or even pick up the vibrating device, and for that she was strangely grateful. He stood there, watching her, as if he was as off balance as she was.

  She wanted him to pull her into his arms and hold her. Wanted to feel those strong arms close around her. She didn’t want him to go, and she definitely didn’t want to send him off on a fire call.

  Outside, a pickup truck approached fast, tires chewing up the gravel. That was reality making a house call.

  “Fire call?” She was proud of the fact that her voice sounded so matter-of-fact. “You go on now. Go fight fire, save the world.”