He slid in and pulled out slowly, his expression soft, as if savoring every moment. He grunted an exhale, emitting a sound that resembled her name, tinged with a plea, perhaps for hastening their mutual gratification. His biceps and pecs flexed in exertion as he drove into her. She struggled against the restraints binding her wrists, wanting desperately to touch him, to stroke his heated flesh, to cup his cheek and draw his face down to meet hers in a lingering kiss.
Royce picked up his pace, his brow furrowed in determination, nails digging into her flesh as he plowed relentlessly. The build toward climax heightened with every thrust, yet her orgasm remained elusive, slippery. She never wanted this to end, this wondrous sensation of merging with Royce, the two of them seeking solace and delight in each other’s arms, reaching the apex of desire, remaining there, suspended, crying out their mutual ecstasy—
Samantha yowled in orgasm. Her eyes flew open to the sight of her tiled bathroom. She was alone. No master, no hunky men, no Royce. But her underwater vibrator had done its job.
She laughed. She’d probably blush next time she saw her gorgeous firefighting hero.
Chapter Five
Royce sat on a stump and drank deeply from his water bottle. He and the rest of the crew at English Camp had just finished chain-sawing a fallen pine and moving the pieces off the trail. Next up was repairing the split-rail fence crushed when the tree had toppled in a winter storm.
The verdant forest was a picturesque, serene setting, and often included a glimpse or a chat with the park’s exceptionally lovely historian. Samantha had to be cordial to each member of her volunteer crew, but Royce could swear there was a blush and a wistful smile reserved just for him.
From casual conversation he learned she’d never been married, lived in a sunny swath of a valley, wished she could have a dog, and was currently researching the lives of women at both English and American Camps. Royce had never given much thought to what kind of woman he’d want to settle down with—if indeed he ever settled down—but Samantha was pretty damn perfect intellectually and, he had to admit, had a smoking hot body. So, if settling down wasn’t in his future, he’d take a night in the sack.
He loved the moments he spent with Samantha and the chance to be outdoors at English Camp. He even enjoyed the physical exertion of brush clearing. But he really wanted to see that dramatic ocean view again on the other side of the island. Perhaps he’d take a bike ride at sunset.
Except not tonight. Tonight marked the halfway point of his stay at the recovery center, and Day Fourteen of a twenty-eight day stay was, he learned, celebrated as a milestone.
There was to be an open house with mocktails and hors d’oeuvres that evening. Residents were allowed to invite guests. A few of the residents had friends or family visiting especially for the event, but those were folks who lived relatively close by in Washington or Oregon. Ginny and Charlee couldn’t come—it was too far a distance for too short a time. They said they’d come for the final ceremony at the end of his stay and the three of them would take a little vacation afterward.
So Royce had invited Samantha to the open house. She had seemed a bit flustered, had colored and averted her eyes to some spot off in the distance, but had readily agreed and had flashed him that smile tinged with erotic possibility.
Only later did he realize he had sort of just asked her out on a date.
Who was he kidding? Not sort of. It was a date. It was the first social event at the center and he planned to get to know her, get her off alone, maybe make a move—
“Hey, Donovan, can you give me a hand?”
Back to reality, back to work, back to rehabilitation.
* * * * *
Seven thirty and still no Samantha.
Royce sipped his lemony mocktini in the great room and watched as guests entered from the foyer of the recovery center. Residents and guests greeted each other warmly and a bit tentatively. With good reason. Recovering from addiction was a difficult battle to win and changed people every step of the way.
Beneath the arched entryway to the great room, a woman with wavy brown hair and a sleek, clingy flower-print dress was hugging Vic. When they parted, they chatted and laughed as if they were long-time buddies.
Royce lifted his drink to his lips and froze when realization struck.
Because they were totally buddies.
Shit. Samantha. And she was all dressed up.
For Royce?
A pleasant heat whirled in his groin, quickly dissolved by reticence. Should he approach her? Lay claim to her? Surely if she was good friends with Vic, she knew others at the center? Perhaps he should give her a moment to say “hello” to the rest of the staff?
At that very moment she spied him. She grinned and waved, said something to Vic, and glided on over to Royce.
His gut churned. Geez, he was acting like a teenager.
In a moment, Samantha stood before him. “Royce,” she greeted with a nod.
Should he shake her hand? Hug her? Kiss her cheek? “Thank you so much for coming,” he said without doing any of that.
She smiled. “My pleasure.”
His cock alerted his brain to the fact that the pleasure was definitely his. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“How about a Shirley Temple?”
Royce chuckled. “The bartender’s favorite.”
Getting Samantha’s drink at the bar took five minutes, tops.
Now what?
He wanted to get her outside, away from the noisy great room. The fire pit was just getting started. There’d be s’mores later. That might be fun.
“Oh! Look at the sunset,” Samantha said, pointing out the window.
Clouds streaked orange and gold across a pale blue, almost gray, sky. “Let’s go to the back patio and check it out,” he said. “The forest has been cut back on that side, so there’ll be a view.”
They found two empty Adirondack chairs flanking a small table. Royce positioned the chairs to watch the sunset, and gestured for Samantha to sit.
“Thank you, gentleman Royce,” she said with a curtsy.
He chuckled as he took his seat. They sat in silence, a situation that should have felt uncomfortable, but, somehow, just didn’t.
He surreptitiously glimpsed sidelong at her. She looked relaxed, her head resting on the back of the chair, the fingers casually smoothing over the condensation on her glass. He stared at her hand, the movements suddenly taking on an erotic meaning, his brain’s interpretation sending signals to his dick.
Royce looked away and shifted in his chair.
* * * * *
Samantha sipped her drink. She should really say something, start a conversation. Although just sitting together in silence was kind of nice. Royce’s presence sent an unusual thrill through her, an arousing sensation tempered by a comforting glow.
“‘Royce’—that’s an unusual name.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Would you believe it’s because my father was a car enthusiast?”
“Oh my god. I didn’t even think of that.”
“Oddly, his fascination was why I became a firefighter.” Royce downed the remains of his drink. “We saw a vintage fire truck at a car show one day. I think I was maybe seven. I loved how the retired fireman let me climb all over it. I realized that’s what I wanted to do. What could be cooler than a fireman?”
“A park ranger?”
Royce glanced at Samantha at the very moment she broke out into a grin. He laughed.
“Okay. Touché. Park ranger is totally cool.” He lifted a brow suggestively. “You and Vic seem to know each other better than I had thought. I’m sure there’s a story behind that.”
She pinched her lips and stared into the depths of her glass. Royce had invited her into his world. She should divulge a bit of her own.
“Soon after I moved here, Vic arranged a park tour. It was a total success and he called later to make arrangements for the recovery center to have regular guided hiking trips. We got to talking
and, well,” she looked at Royce bashfully, “we had a date.”
“A date?” he exclaimed. “With Vic?”
“Yeah. Just coffee, really. But in the middle of it we both realized it would be disastrous to be anything more than friends.”
“Because…?”
“An island of only seven thousand people can get really incestuous.”
“Ah.”
“So we only made out.”
Royce’s jaw dropped as he emitted a choking sound.
She laughed. “Our brief encounter was the best introduction on how to date on the island. Proceed cautiously from the heart and mind, not your hormones. Or if you’re giving in to your base urges, both parties better be pretty clear and up front about that.” She stared up at the sky and let out a little sigh. “Eventually Vic found a girlfriend, but it took them a good year of getting to know each other before they made that commitment.” She took a gulp of her ginger ale.
“Vic’s a nice guy.”
She snorted in amusement. “He totally is. But he’s a showman extrovert and I’m more of a homebody. We figured out pretty quickly that anything long term wouldn’t work. And if I want something long term I don’t have time to experiment.”
“You make it sound like you’re dying.”
“In the dating sense, I am. I’ve got about five years left in the game with men my age, then it’s old dudes for me.”
“What?” Royce barked.
“It’s true! Women begin to be undesirable as soon as they hit forty.”
Royce emitted an incredulous gasp. “How could you ever be considered undesirable?”
His words hung in the air, spinning around her before flooding her with a sensual warmth.
“After our date, Vic introduced me to a kayak instructor who leads tours for the patients in the summer.” She chewed on a cooling ice cube. “Since then, I’ve had summer flings with kayak instructors and fall flings with deer hunters. And the occasional fling with a tourist.”
And, possibly next, an exceptionally handsome firefighter. She crossed her legs and squeezed the plump wetness between her thighs.
“I think I could be a kayak instructor,” he said.
The implication sent desire to coil in her belly, radiating lust to her crotch.
Royce exhaled. “I definitely could get used to living here. So peaceful.”
“Island life isn’t for everyone, that’s for sure.”
“But it’s for you.”
“Yeah.” She left it at that as she shook the ice in her glass in an attempt to uncover the maraschino cherry. Her sex life was one thing, but she wasn’t ready to explain the details of why island life suited her.
“Besides kayaking, park rangering, and counseling, what do people do here for a living?”
“Anything having to do with the tourist trade, and, of course, the sorts of jobs any small town has, you know like the grocery store.” She sucked ginger ale off the cherry. “Landscaping is a big industry here.”
“Like around people’s houses?”
“Yeah. I got a guy who mows for me. I got like an acre of lawn.”
“Oh, yeah. Huh.”
“Housing is tight, though. You’d probably have to have a roommate. Or several.” Or, maybe, share my bed for a while.
Royce chuckled. “I have one now, although Pete’s literally my roommate as we share a room. The center has a buddy system. You know, so neither of us relapses.”
She’d have to cancel her plans to sneak into his room, then. She chewed on her cherry and contemplated tying the stem in a knot with her tongue.
Nah. Too obvious.
“We have a great volunteer firefighting program,” she said. “And maybe if a paid job opens up at the station, you could apply?”
“Maybe.” Royce’s response was sullen.
Damn. She’d said something to upset him. She returned her attention to the sky. “The colors of the sunset are really beautiful.”
“Yeah.” The glum demeanor persisted.
She waved her hand indicating the sky, hoping to also sweep away the somber mood. “But you should really see it from the shoreline. Absolutely stunning.” She gathered her courage as she smiled at him. “Perhaps I could pick you up and take you to the beach at American Camp one of these days? The setting sun above the drama of the ocean kind of puts our puny lives into perspective.”
* * * * *
Life into perspective.
A switch flipped inside Royce. An emotional switch. He stood abruptly, then paced.
“The counselors said we should confess,” he said. “Should divulge what sent us over the edge, and apologize for our past conduct to our friends and family. They said it was a step to rebuilding bridges with estranged loved ones.” He faced her. “I don’t have anyone here. I mean, I should say—” shit, this was difficult “—I’ve only made a connection with one person here.” He drew in a breath. “You.”
The color rose in her cheeks. She glanced away, perhaps composing herself. She shifted in her chair and looked up at him. “I’m honored to be here for you, Royce. I’m happy to listen.”
He closed his eyes as he gathered his thoughts. He hadn’t worked it through. He assumed it would just pour out of him. Where to begin?
“I failed. I killed a girl.”
The ice clinked in Samantha’s glass then stilled.
“I mean, I watched as a little girl fell through the floor. I let her die. I was dumbstruck in the middle of a burning apartment complex. I’d never had that happen before. But she looked like my niece, Charlotte—Charlee.” His lungs constricted. “My precious Charlee that I had spent a year nursing back to health. Something inside me snapped. What if I lost her?”
He couldn’t look at Samantha. So he looked at the dimming firmament instead.
“Back in California, my crew and I used to get drunk after a fire, you know, let loose. Have a bender for a night to let off steam. Sometimes it would last longer than a night. Working the lines was grueling, demanding the body and soul of a man or woman. We drank to forget and we forgot.”
An ache cramped behind Royce’s eyes. “But it was different in Dallas, different after the…incident. At home every fucking day Charlee was there to remind me of my failure.” Tears burned his lashes. “I love Charlee with every fiber of my being, but instead of joy, seeing her, thinking of her brought pain and regret. No amount of drinking could relieve the pain.”
Shit. There. He said it.
Sorrow and relief overtook him. He turned his back to Samantha as his body convulsed with sobs, his eyes squeezing to dam the tears.
Her arms wrapped around his waist, her warmth instantly consoling. She hugged him tightly, her body melding against his back, her cheek against his shoulder.
He breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, letting her comfort melt his pain.
“I cannot imagine what you must have gone through,” she said softly.
“I drank for over a week straight after that. Drinking with the crew after a wildfire was a party. In Dallas, there was no celebration. The guilt eats me up every damn day.” He stared at the twilight slowly morphing into night. “I froze, I failed. And now I fear I’ll never be able to return to the lines.”
He turned in her embrace and placed his hands on her shoulders. She smiled up at him.
“Thank you for listening,” he said.
“All of that must have been very difficult for you to admit.”
He looked into the depths of her brown eyes. “Yeah.” A flicker of desire began to eclipse the sorrow. His body became far too aware of her touch. “God, this is awkward.”
She flashed a quizzical look.
“One part of me is so grateful to have a friend at a difficult moment and another part of me suddenly has a very different idea.”
Her smile was tinged with playfulness. “Oh?” She licked her lips. Her gaze fell to his mouth.
An invitation.
He bent down and touched his lips to hers. She re
sponded eagerly, her softness shooting a frisson of lust down his spine to his dick. He teased the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She opened for him, letting him explore her, arcing into him as he pulled her more fully into his arms.
The snap of a branch made him jump, jolting them apart. Samantha brushed down her dress. Royce crossed his arms and turned to the noise. A couple of kids running around playing hide and seek oblivious to the intense emotions all around them. A heartwarming scene.
He sighed, then chuckled. “I suppose we should be a bit more discreet.”
She reached out her hand. “How about a walk in the woods?”
He grasped her hand and led the way behind the center, down a small slope, into a clump of evergreens. A mellow breeze swayed the tops of the trees as twigs crunched underfoot. He surveyed their surroundings, and decided on thick trunk nestled between two younger trees. He leaned against the rough bark and pulled Samantha against him.
He smoothed his fingers through her hair. “Now where were we?”
She giggled and lifted herself on tiptoe. “In the middle of doing this.”
She clasped her hands around his neck and pulled him to her, assaulting him with a determined kiss, her aggressive tongue and mouth unabashedly asserting her desires. He held her steady at the waist as she undulated up his body, then down again, ending her sensual wave with a thrust against his groin.
His brain marveled at her overt lustfulness, while his cock strained against the confines of his jeans. He grew even harder when she slid her fingers along his waistband and stopped at the button on his fly. She pulled back and tugged the button free.
He sucked air between his teeth. “Damn, woman, you got one thing on your mind.”
“I think you need a stress reliever.” She pulled the zipper down.
Yes, yes, he could certainly use that. “Uh, I’d invite you back to my room, but, you know, the roommate.” Besides the gauntlet of guests they’d have to parade in front of.
Dallas Fire & Rescue: Undamaged (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 4
