The Fireman I Loved to Hate

by Jenna Gunn

  I take another bite of my danish and chew thoughtfully. Has he changed over the course of me knowing him, or did I just never know about this side of him? Sitting across from him like this while he pets a sleeping kitten and gushes about his twin, proclaiming that he wanted to bring me the best breakfast he could imagine...it’s almost…

  Chivalrous? Gallant? I think, but I push the thoughts away.

  “Do you have any family nearby?” he asks.

  I think for a moment, unsure how much I should tell him. I don’t really talk about my family; it’s still a little painful to think about. I glance away. “Ah, not really. I’m an only child. My parents passed a few years back.”

  He glances up at me. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I nod, still not meeting his gaze. “Momma got cancer, beat it, got it again. She couldn’t beat it twice.” I shrug, trying not to get too emotional. “Daddy got sick soon after. I’m an only child, so no brothers or sisters.”

  Alex doesn’t reply.

  “Momma and Daddy didn’t have too big of a family, either, and what relations they did have moved either up north or west.” I hear the Southern twang digging harder into my speech, piercing through like it always does when I get a little upset. “They had friends around, but I don’t talk to them much. I moved here from Mt. Pleasant when I finally sold their house. I just...couldn’t bear to live there anymore. Too many memories.” I laugh a little. It sounds sad to my own ears. “The only person I knew anywhere near here is in a town an hour away; she’s my vet. And now the Logans, too.”

  “And me,” he says.

  I finally am able to meet his gaze. The concern written across his face is easy to read. His dark eyes are wide and earnest.

  “And you,” I say with a smile.

  We talk for hours.

  I don’t even notice the time slipping away. We polish off all the pastries, we drink the rest of my sweet tea. I feed the cats again. He laughs and jokes and plays with Carmen. He asks about my work, and I’m surprised when he recognizes the title of one of my novels.

  “Holy crap,” he says as he pulls out his buzzing cell phone. “Open the curtains.”

  I stand up, stretch, and grab a few dirty napkins before going to the window above the sink and yanking the curtains open. It’s pitch black outside.

  “Oh my God,” I say, stunned. “It’s nighttime already?” I only vaguely remember switching on the lights; at some point, I must have noticed it getting dark.

  “Maybe I should get going,” Alex sighs, getting to his feet.

  I think about protesting. I think about telling him not to go. But I don’t reply as he walks over to Carmen’s cat bed and sets her carefully down in it.

  He crosses to the table and picks up the empty boxes.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as he walks into the kitchen.

  “Looking for the trash can. And a paper towel; I got a lot of crumbs on your table.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I say, reaching for the boxes. “You’re a guest. Guests don’t clean.”

  “Polite guests pick up after themselves,” he retorts, yanking the boxes out of my reach.

  “Polite guests do what the host says!” I reach for the boxes again, but he holds them above his head. He’s got at least a foot of height on me; I won’t be able to reach.

  Knowing I’m about to humiliate myself, I start jumping up, trying to reach the boxes. “Let me be a good host!” I say, jumping earnestly.

  He laughs and stretches his arms up. My fingertips skim the bottom of one, but he’s able to pull them even further out of reach as he draws himself up to his full height. He bends a little backwards, still laughing as I desperately try to reach them.

  I muster my strength for one last jump. It’s miscalculated; I sort of smack into him with my full body, causing both of us to lose our balance. He drops the boxes to brace himself against the counter. I almost completely lose my feet, but he grabs me around the waist, saving me from falling.

  I freeze, panting. He’s leaning back against the counter, his legs spread, his arm around me. I’m pressed against him. My arms have landed naturally on his chest. I glance up into his face. He’s got a little pockmark above his eyebrow; I haven’t noticed that before.

  Who initiates? I don’t know. All I know is that we kiss, and I’m reminded of just how soft his full lips are.

  I can’t stop myself, and I’m not sure I want to. The last time we did this was the best I’ve ever had. I melt into him as his hands run up my back and tangle into my hair. He deepens the kiss, his tongue touching my lips, questing for mine. I part my own lips. It’s permission, and from what I feel pressing against my thigh, he’s begging.

  His hands lower to the strip of skin my short t-shirt reveals. I shiver as his warm hands touch me, drawing invisible lines across the small of my back. He pushes his hands beneath my shirt. His fingertips find the clasp of my bra.

  It’s not fair; he shouldn’t be the only one who gets to touch. Still kissing him, I reach for the hem of his shirt and slip my hands underneath the fabric. I run my fingers over the hard ridges of his abs and up to his chest. I’ve never been with a man so broad before; I’ve always seemed to attract small, skinny men. There’s nothing wrong with those sort of men, of course - this is just new, novel.

  Well, sort of new. He and I have done this before.

  He unhooks my bra; I feel it loosen suddenly. I finally break the kiss to lean back and pull my shirt up over my head. Alex’s eyes go immediately to my breasts as I pull the bra straps from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. With almost reverent wonder, he reaches for them, cupping them in his hands, brushing his thumbs over my nipples.

  “Alex,” I whisper. I grab his hand and take a step back, pulling him with me. “My bedroom is this way.”

  He grins eagerly. It’s easy to pull him down the hallway and to my bedroom. I shut the door behind us as he strips off his shirt, and I pounce on him as soon as it’s off, knocking us both to the bed.

  He drives me crazy. There’s something about him, about his laughter, his smile, the scent coming from his skin as I lean down to kiss his neck.

  Alex lets out a moan as I slip my hand toward his jeans to unbutton them. He helps me, pushing his pants down so I can slide them off him easily.

  I’ve seen it before, but I’m still surprised at the size of him as his boxer-briefs come off. This time, however, he catches me staring, and he grins when I look up to meet his eyes.

  “Like what you see?” he asks playfully.

  I tug my shorts down and kick them off. “Do you?” I retort.

  “I sure do.” He reaches out and yanks me down onto him, grabbing my bottom with both hands. I can’t stifle a squeal as he slings me onto my own bed and rolls over me. “I like it a lot,” he says, his voice low and husky as his hand slides down my stomach.

  I inch my legs a bit further apart. He takes the hint; his fingertips brush against me, teasing me. My toes curl. A moan slips out of my throat.

  He takes my knees and pushes them, making my legs bend, forcing my thighs further apart, and lowers his head down between my thighs to plant teasing kisses just beside where he knows I want him to. I wriggle and reach out, trying to guide him, but he locks eyes with me and grins as he continues to willfully disregard what I want.

  Warmth radiates from his hands as he runs them along my thighs. I can see the muscles moving in his shoulders as he shifts toward me. He breaks eye contact as he bows his head over the triangle of hair between my thighs - and then he disappears within it, sliding his warm, wet tongue against the bundle of nerves that has been aching for him for several minutes.

  I gasp and twitch. This is better than last time. We have more room, he’s more focused. He slides down to lay flat on the bed like a hunter lying in wait in the grass. His lips and tongue move and swirl; I lean my head back, gasping in pleasure.

  “Alex,” I whimper, feeling my own muscles tense.

  He lifts his head
with a grin.

  “Alex!” I yell in frustration, and he bends down to begin again, turning my yell into a moan halfway through. I feel his fingers working toward my entrance; I gasp when they slide in, easy as can be, and Alex rubs gently inside me while his mouth works the outside.

  “Alex,” I say again, this time in a barely-discernible moan. My thighs clench, my back arches. I feel myself reaching the edge.

  Alex picks up on it; this time, he doesn’t look up to interrupt it. I pant as he builds it within me. He’s so precise, so exact, so attentive. He leads me up, up, until I reach my peak - and I cry out, writhing as he refuses to stop his ministrations. With his fingers still inside me and his tongue still working, I reach my climax and can’t come down. I’m even more sensitive now than when I started.

  He lessens his pressure just a bit, but he won’t sit up or take his mouth away; it hurts, but it also feels oh, so good. He builds the pressure in me again, carefully taking me toward the edge a second time, and I kick and writhe. The sensation is too much. I’m knee-deep in pain, in pleasure, and I can’t separate the two anymore. I don’t even know if I want to.

  It happens again - this time I almost scream as I arch my back. My thighs clench so tightly around Alex’s head that I worry about him for a brief moment before getting lost in my own head.

  This time, Alex slows, and he carefully pulls away from me as I finally calm down. My breath hitches as his hands and face pull away. I feel myself pulsing in the aftermath.

  Alex rises to his knees, and his arousal sways between his legs. He doesn’t give me a chance to move or react; he comes forward and bends over me.

  I don’t know how I can take any more touching, but I know that I want this. I lock eyes with him as he positions himself, I hiss as his tip brushes against me.

  Any other man I’ve been with would be able to slide in easily at this point, but with Alex’s size, he has to push it in little by little while I moan and clench around him. He then lowers himself onto me as he begins to thrust in earnest.

  “Raina,” he whispers in my ear, and it’s almost too much. I feel him moving in and out. His hands clutch the contours of my waist. His warm bare chest pushes against mine, almost crushing me between him and the mattress. “Did you…?”

  “Twice,” I assure him, and he moans and moves faster, pumping harder, so that with each thrust I let out a cry. “Tell me when,” I whisper.

  He grunts in affirmation but doesn’t seem to be able to form words anymore. His eyes are shut, he’s moving with conviction.

  “I want to use my mouth,” I tell him.

  He moans again. His pace quickens. He gasps, his breath coming in short spurts. “Now!” he cries, pulling back.

  Alex falls back and I move as quickly as I can, bending over his lap to take him in my mouth, allowing him to empty himself into it; and I take my revenge, refusing to stop after he’s spent. Now he’s forced to twitch and squirm.

  “Raina, please,” he croaks, even as his hand slides onto the back of my head.

  I know he’s not built the way I am, that he won’t come again just because I’m working at him; I sit up, releasing him, and he falls back onto my pillows, putting a hand over his eyes.

  I collapse next to him. My thighs feel shaky and weak; there’s no way I could support myself for very long. He rolls over and wraps an arm around me. Naked, sweating, panting, we lay together on my bed, the sheets in a messy, tangled lump at our feet.

  “That felt so good,” Alex says quietly.

  “It did,” I agree.

  He smiles at me; his eyes drift shut, and I realize I can’t keep my own open. Wrapped in his arms, I drift off to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  I’m awake, but I don’t open my eyes yet. I want to savor the memories of yesterday.

  I turn my head so that I’m face-down in Raina’s pillow and breathe in the scent of her hair. I learned so much about her yesterday. We work perfectly together; I instinctively know her body, and she really seems to know mine. She’s funny, she’s smart, and of course she’s gorgeous.

  I shift a bit in the bed and roll over, reaching for her, ready to take her back into my arms and snuggle the morning away, maybe go for round two -

  Her side of the bed is empty. I sit up and look around. Sunlight streams through the window over her nightstand; dust motes swirl gently in the light. My clothes from last night have been folded neatly and placed on the nightstand itself with a sticky note on top, on which a little doodle of a face smiles at me. Raina must have cleaned up this morning.

  I slide off the bed and grab my clothes. It was sweet of her to put them there for me, but I would’ve liked for her to stay in bed with me.

  I would still like her to stay with me.

  As I grab my clothes and shove one leg into my pants leg, I think about how much we click, how compatible we are. I want to be with her. I want to take her out to dinner, to hold her hand, to kiss her.

  There’s no mistaking this feeling - I want Raina Groves to be my girlfriend.

  I don’t bother to put on my shirt; I just throw it over my shoulder and walk out of her bedroom. Once I’m in the hallway, the smell of bacon cooking on the stove smacks me in the face, but I don’t hear the sizzling until I’m further toward the kitchen - the walls in here must be thick.

  I come around the corner and see her standing at the stove, the handle of the pan in one hand, a spatula in the other, and...fully clothed?

  I feel myself frown. This isn’t an I-just-got-up, yoga-pants-and-sweatshirt outfit. She’s wearing jeans, sneakers, a long-sleeved T-shirt; this is a ready-for-the-day outfit. She’s wearing more clothes than she was when I arrived yesterday.

  Her posture is strange, too. Her shoulders are stiff, her back rigid. She’s far from the panting, sweaty mess I remember from last night.

  She glances over her shoulder and sees me. I smile, but she doesn’t return it; she just blinks at me and goes back to the food on the stove.

  “You’re awake.” Her voice shakes a little. She sounds nervous.

  “Yeah,” I reply, suddenly very aware that I’m not wearing my shirt. I grab it and start turning it over to look for the sleeves so I can put it on. “Good morning.”

  She nods but doesn’t reply.

  I pull my shirt on. It’s backwards. I hunt for the correct side.

  “Um, I hope you like your eggs scrambled,” she says, still not looking at me. Her voice is softer than usual, a little shaky.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “But you don’t have to make me anything if you - ”

  “I’ve already started. And you brought me breakfast yesterday.” She turns the stove’s burner off and starts pushing the bacon out of the pan with her spatula. Is her hand shaking? “Now we’ll be even.”

  I don’t like the way she says that. I’m distracted from replying when Carmen attacks my ankle, digging her little claws into the fabric of my jeans. “Hey, sweetie,” I say warmly, bending to scoop her up. “Do you need help feeding her? I can - ”

  “I already fed them.” Raina holds up a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. “Want cheese in your eggs?”

  “Uh, no, I’m good.”

  She nods and tosses the bag into the fridge. She grabs two plates from the countertop and brings them toward the dining area. “It’s ready,” she says, a little needlessly.

  “Oh - thank you.” I go toward the dining table, where she sets one plate; stands holding her plate. “Uh, you okay?”

  She stops and looks down at her plate, then over at me. “I’m sorry, habit. I always look over my notes while I eat breakfast,” she says. She frowns a little; she seems confused. “Gets me ready for writing.”

  “Oh.” I watch her as she timidly moves toward the table and puts her plate across from me. What happened to the funny, relaxed girl who joked with me over pastries? Maybe- she’s trying to get in her work headspace.

  “Coffee’s on the counter,” she says as she slides into the chair.

 
“Thanks.” There’s one mug sitting next to the coffee pot; I pour some coffee for myself and sit down at the table across from her. The silence is so thick it lays in the room like fog. I eat slowly, picking at the eggs, breaking off tiny pieces of bacon for Carmen.

  “So – I enjoyed spending time with you.” I say finally.

  She glances up at me, just for a quick instant, almost as if she’s the shyest girl in the world. Raina of the two opposing sides, wildcat and timid woodland creature. “It was nice,” she says. I finally breathe, realizing I’ve been holding my breath, treading on pins and needles here.

  “I’d like to do more of that…” I say and as soon as the words leave my mouth I realize she could interpret that all wrong.

  She pushes her food around a bit, and I’m taken with how lovely she looks. As always. I could get used to seeing her across the breakfast table from me.

  I see her draw a big breath and she quietly says, “we’re good at that it would seem,” as she waves her hand vaguely toward the bedroom. She doesn’t say anything else, but slowly finishes her breakfast. I feel more confused than ever. Does that mean she wants to see more of me?

  When she stands to clear her plate, I do as well. I see that’s she’s already cleaned up from last evening. The pastry boxes, which I distinctly remember tossing haphazardly onto the counter, are nowhere to be found; in fact, there’s no trace of our night together at all, except for my boots by the door. They’re not where I left them, either. I kicked them off in the living room.

  I see her glance at the clock. She wants me to head out. I get it. She’s got to work. I try not to think of the strange vibe she’s giving off as I turn on the faucet to rinse my plate.

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Raina’s voice says from behind me as I reach for the dish soap.

  “I should clean up after myself,” I tell her. “Don’t wanna be a rude guest, y’know.” I crack a smile; again, she doesn’t return it, so I let mine slide off my face.

  “I have a dishwasher.” She shifts her feet awkwardly, avoiding my gaze. She’s blushing.