Men In Uniform Anthology

by Delilah Devlin

  Eventually, she turned to him. “I’m being obnoxious, aren’t I? You came out with me, and I’m making it all about Evie Ventimiglia Returns—and this time it’s personal.”

  “No worries. I like watching you do your thing.”

  “Oh, you do, do ya?” She leaned in, overwhelming him with a scent that went straight to his dick. “And what’s my thing, exactly?”

  “Bringing the sun wherever you go.”

  Eyes misting over, she mouthed “oh” and dipped her chin. Losing her direct gaze bothered him so much he reached out and tipped her jaw up. “Evie, it’s okay. You’re home now.”

  “I’m so glad to be here, Tyler. With you.” She bit her lip, and blood rocketed through his veins with one single, unrelenting destination its goal. Jesus. How the hell was he going to survive this night without making a goddamn fool of himself?

  Chapter Three

  She meant it.

  After the pain of the last couple of weeks—the last couple of months, if she was being honest—there was nowhere she’d rather be and no one she’d rather be with.

  His palm still cupped her jaw and she wanted to sink into it, rub against it like a kitten. Maybe get another shot of cheek-to-pec action like she’d had back at the firehouse.

  When she saw him naked. She was still marveling at the glory of her best friend’s body. All that hot, moonlight-pale perfection and tonight he was hers. Okay, not in that sense. But she was going to monopolize him all she could.

  She covered his hand with hers and grasped it as she stood. “Let’s find a quiet table where we can talk.”

  His hand felt warm and good and right. Had she held it before? Surely she would have remembered all this life and vitality. But back then, in college, Tyler had been off-limits, betrothed in a very old-fashioned sense to Misty Jensen, she of the porn star name. The woman who’d broken his heart.

  They managed to snag a two-seater in the back, away from the crowd and everyone who wanted to say hi and ask her about Rome and her engagement. Now disengagement.

  Once settled, she found Tyler staring at her, his intensity a force she felt bone-deep. “Tell me what happened,” he said.

  She shrugged. “Well, Paolo has always been incredibly devoted to his graduate students.” A quick self-deprecating wave toward herself. She should have known that a professor who had an affair with a student wasn’t going to stop at one. “And I found him in his office at the university giving one of them a little extra tutoring. A blow job. And she was good! Great technique.”

  Color rose to his cheeks, though it was impossible to say if it was embarrassment at her forthrightness or anger at her ex’s behavior. Either way, she liked provoking this reaction.

  “I threw the engagement ring at him, and it hit her in the head. I was aiming for his dick, but she was there, in the way. So symbolic.”

  “Jesus, Evie. What an asshole.”

  “Yep, I’m such an idiot.”

  “You know what I mean.” He shook his head.

  “Look, I have a type. It used to be bad-for-me jocks who called me babe and texted me for booty calls at three in the morning.”

  Tyler’s eyes darkened to midnight. “Brad was a dolt.”

  “Oh, I know! Remember whenever he wanted to wish himself luck, he’d say ‘touch wood’—”

  “And then touch his dick,” Tyler finished. “All class.”

  She laughed, loving that they had these shared memories. “I sure know how to pick ’em.”

  “My favorite was Jonah ‘beer me’ Carter.”

  “Oh God, he used to carry a can of Pabst in his back pocket. For emergencies.” And when he turned up one night at her dorm drunk off his ass and threatening her, Tyler was there to defuse the situation. Jonah never bothered her again.

  “So I moved on to older, hot professors, who I can fuck until they’re exhausted and then let them cuddle me. It’s my version of self-care.”

  Tyler stared at her, and Evie wouldn’t have thought it possible, but more color suffused his neck and probably spread throughout his entire body. His hard, blushing, muscles-have-muscles body.

  Would that lovely dick of his blush, too? Maybe that was what a cock was doing when it became erect. Hmm, she’d never thought of it that way. All that blood engorging it, thickening it.

  Oh, this might be fun, and Lord knew she needed a little fun. She took another sip of her wine. Tyler still hadn’t responded to her last provocative statement, like he couldn’t find the words. She often left him speechless.

  She reached for his bicep and squeezed. “When did you get so built? I never noticed you looking this good on Skype.”

  “Needed to step up my game to make Squad.” His eyes fell to her mouth, and she decided to take advantage. Just a quick dart of her tongue, a light dampening of her lips.

  There was no missing the flare of heat in his midnight blue eyes. Her hand moved of its own volition over his bicep, then crossed the border into chest country. She’d been thinking of those hard pecs all day. Harmless, really. Imagining her lips trailing kisses, flicking a tongue out to taste a nipple. Would it come to a peak, a pop under the flat of her tongue?

  “You must be fighting them off with a stick, Ty.”

  “Wouldn’t say that,” he mumbled.

  She’d seen the napkin with the number on it, the one he’d shoved in his pocket when she arrived. Some girl had hit on him, and he’d kept it. Why shouldn’t he have a little fun? He was a hot-blooded American male in his prime.

  “So who’s the girl who left her number for you?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “She was here the other night watching me play darts. Gave her number to Wyatt, my LT.”

  She infused casual into her tone. “Planning to call her?”

  “Haven’t thought about it.”

  “Liar!”

  “Okay, I’ve thought about it, only because I haven’t been dating much, or at all, you know, with work and trying to land my spot on Squad, and now that I have, I can make time for that.”

  He bumbled a little through that explanation, but he sounded sincere. Something had been holding him back from dating, and now he was ready.

  Well, Evie was not. Not ready for this guy she had no claim over to be even contemplating another woman. And didn’t that make her quite the dick? She took a sip of her wine and dialed up her bestie vibe.

  “That’s great! Looks like Tyler’s gettin’ some soon!” The words were ripped from her throat like jagged shards of metal.

  He chuckled. “Don’t be so sure. I’ve got no game when it comes to scoring with the ladies.”

  Only Tyler would admit that. It’s what she loved about him. His honesty and self-effacing nature.

  “Like you need game. You’re a Chicago firefighter. A built”—so built—“Chicago firefighter with ginger hair and gorgeous blue eyes and a smile that makes women and men faint when you drop it on them. You could be reciting the Chicago Fire manual and have any woman in this bar on her knees.”

  He shifted in his seat and leaned closer. “Any woman?”

  “On her knees, farm boy.”

  The words enveloped them, their import sparking, burning, combusting between them. On her knees. That’s what she wanted, her hands on those thick thighs pushing them apart. The slight brush of her palm over his erection in invitation. The sexy scrape as she pulled down his zipper.

  Her mouth watered at the thought of taking him deep, of all that thickness filling her. Moisture gushed, slicking that empty spot between her thighs, making her hot all over. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples peaked and tight.

  This was…crazy.

  While every sensation ran riot, Tyler watched her, his fierce gaze burning, a hot lick of fire over her body. (Call the CFD. Zing!) She could already feel his touch on her skin, his light stroke inflaming every cell as he moved slowly over her breasts, her belly, her pussy. Flustered, she dropped her gaze to the space between them, which—hello!—happened to be his cro
tch.

  She could make out the hard ridge of his cock against his jeans. Quickly she looked away and up, right into his eyes.

  “Tyler…”

  “What, Evie?” His tone was husky and rough.

  I want you. This. Your fingers and tongue and cock everywhere.

  “I—”

  “Hi!” A new voice cut in. A new female voice.

  They both looked up at a pretty blonde with dimples. “Am I interrupting?”

  Yes, you are.

  “No, not at all,” Tyler said, standing because he was a total gentleman. “How are you?”

  “Oh, great,” the new arrival said, mollified by his friendly response. “Did you get my note?”

  “I did. Just now.” He blinked, opened his mouth, flicked a glance to Evie, then closed his mouth again. A few awkward seconds ticked over before he finally said, “Uh, Ferrara, this is my friend, Evie. She’s visiting from Rome.”

  “Oh, you’re Italian? I love Italy.”

  “American, actually,” Evie said, standing herself because she felt like the odd one out. “Just wrapped up my MFA there. And now I’m catching up with this guy.” She couldn’t help herself—her hand wrapped around his oh-my-God bicep and latched on.

  “Just wanted to say hello,” Ferrara said. “I’ll let you two get back to your night.” Her eyes lingered on Tyler and Evie’s bicep-gripping hand for an extra-charged beat. “Call me anytime.”

  Tyler nodded, his blush activating with the obvious come-on. When Ferrara was out of earshot, Evie turned to her friend.

  “That was rude.”

  “I was?”

  Evie sat again. “No, her coming over and interrupting when it was clear we were in the middle of something. If anything, we looked like a couple, so it was a bit cheeky of her to hit on you while you were obviously with someone.”

  “We looked like a couple?”

  “Yes! Everyone used to say so in college.”

  Tyler smiled. “City girl, no need to be jealous. You’re the only one for me.”

  “Ha!” It came out of her throat like a bark. “Well, you have to call her now. She was practically drooling over you.”

  “Uh, no, she wasn’t. Besides, I don’t really feel a spark there.”

  Relief—unbelievably welcome—soaked her through. “Not even for a one-and-done?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “That’s not what I’m looking for. I want to get to know someone first, and if all she wants is to jump into bed, then that’s not for me.”

  “Lots of relationships start with one-night stands. At least three of mine.” Not that they lasted much longer beyond that initial night of chemistry.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “What is?”

  He shrugged, scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’d want to wait before, well, you know…”

  “You sleep with her?” Well, this was interesting. “Because?”

  “I want to be sure she’s a good fit.”

  “For your dick?”

  He set his lips in a straight line, perhaps annoyed at her flippancy. Some guys were definitely turned off by her potty mouth.

  You need to think before you speak, amore. So brash and American. Stupid Paolo, leave this place at once!

  “A good fit for me,” Tyler said. “I don’t want my—uh, the first sexual encounter to be with someone who’s just looking for a good time.”

  Oh, that was sweet. Tyler was still a romantic. Back in college, he’d waited for his high school sweetheart because she’d wanted it that way. Of course, then Porn Star Misty had gone and cheated on him with her tennis coach, and poor Tyler had to start over, except…

  Who did he end up losing it to? She’d headed to New York for an internship at MOMA after college, then to her post-graduate work in Rome. He’d rarely talked about girls he was dating, and anytime she asked, he’d say there was no one special.

  Something he’d just said niggled at her. “So, when you say ‘the first sexual encounter,’ you mean with this special someone you’re waiting for?”

  “Yeah.” He shifted in his seat and raised his gaze to her, all that true-blue goodness locked and loaded. There was hesitancy at first in his grim expression, then a decision made. “I’d like my first to be with a girl who’s special. And thinks I’m worth it.”

  My first.

  My.

  First.

  Holy Sr. Mary Magdalene! “You’re a freakin’ virgin!”

  Several people turned curious glances their way, and was it her imagination that the music’s volume lowered and all conversation halted?

  He rolled his eyes. “Please, speak up. I don’t think my LT heard you behind the bar.”

  “I’m sorry, but how did I not know this?” Had she been that bad a friend? She told him everything, about every guy, even how good or bad the sex was. And he’d listened to every inappropriate, ridiculous thing out of her mouth. He talked about his parents and the dairy farm in downstate Illinois, about his job and how much he loved it, about his friends and the life he was living in Chicago. But somehow, they’d passed over this incredibly important thing.

  She had passed over it.

  “Ty, I had no idea,” she whispered, drawing him closer to her. “Why didn’t you tell me? I feel like I’ve failed you as a friend.”

  “You haven’t. And I don’t know why I didn’t talk about it. I thought I’d have done it by now. Punched the card. Become a man.” He rolled his eyes at that, again with the self-deprecation she loved. Tyler never took himself over-seriously. “But with each passing year it didn’t happen, I felt more and more like a freak. How did I talk about it without sounding like a loser? I can barely talk to girls—you saw how I was with”—He waved around.

  “Ferrari.”

  He grinned. “Ferrara. I’m a bumbling idiot. And now the longer I’ve held onto this stupid badge of virginity, the more I need it to mean something. Besides, who’d want to break someone in who hasn’t a clue what he’s doing?”

  Plenty of women would jump at the shot, but Evie could tell that’s not really what Ty wanted or even needed to hear. He was looking for a connection, someone who wouldn’t judge.

  He glanced at his phone. “Listen, the next snowpocalypse is heading in, so I should get you home.”

  “Did my father order you to be a gentleman?”

  “He might have, but it was unnecessary. I’d be rolling your sloppy drunk ass home anyway, chief’s orders or not.”

  “What, and leave me on this cliffhanger?”

  He smiled. Gah, he was so gorgeous! Any woman would give an arm and a tit to be his first. She would volunteer right now if it wasn’t so weird.

  If it wasn’t what she’d been sex-dreaming about all day.

  Chapter Four

  This was a terrible idea.

  He should have put her in a cab, but her dad lived in Beverly, which was practically in the suburbs. Snow had started to fall in great kitten-sized clumps, and, frankly, Tyler didn’t trust anyone else to drive her home anyway. Luckily, his place was less than a ten-minute drive away in Humboldt Park.

  He couldn’t believe he’d told her The News. She’d been super sweet about it, too, except for the screaming “You’re a virgin!” at the top of her lungs in his coworkers’ bar, which was par for the course with Evie. But other than that, she was awesome. And then there was all that energy between them. The way she touched his arm, the moistening of her lips, even the flash of passion in her eyes when Ferrara stopped by.

  Probably his sex-starved imagination creating one-way sparks.

  “This is your place?” she asked as she stumbled out of the Uber and fell flat on her ass.

  “Evie! You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Fine.” She remained lying on the sidewalk, like a stationary snow angel, framing the house in an imaginary viewfinder. “Wish I had my camera. This is a great building. Amazing energy.”

  Tyler scooped her up and, out of weird habit, brushed a hand over her jac
ket and jeans to remove the dusting of snow.

  “Shit, sorry,” he said, feeling heat rising to his cheeks, enough to melt the couple of inches that had fallen since they left the bar. He’d only gone and palmed her sweet ass.

  She placed her hands on his chest, flat on his pecs—he suspected she had a thing for pecs, not his pecs, just any pecs—and peered up at him through the veil of her dark lashes.

  “You touched my ass, farm boy.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I was trying to clean off the snow.” She’d been lying on the ground, for Christ’s sake. “Look, maybe I should take you home.”

  “I want to see where you live.”

  “I’m on the top floor and we have to be—” She was already bounding up the steps, cupping her face to peer through the stained-glass window of the building’s door. “Quiet,” he finished. His landlady would likely be fast asleep by now. Oh, who was he kidding? Mrs. Novak was probably ready with her favorite broom.

  True to form, she peeped out through the chain-locked door on the first floor.

  “I have a gun!”

  “Holy shit.” Evie backed up and stood on his foot.

  “It’s me, Mrs. Novak,” Tyler said, closing the outer door and setting Evie aside gently. “Sorry if we woke you. We’ll head on up—”

  Too late. She was already throwing open the door and barging out, broom in hand, curlers in hair, her dark eyes burning with suspicion.

  “Who is this? You never bring girls here!”

  “This isn’t a—” He stopped. Restarted. “This is my friend Evie. We went to college together, and she’s home from Rome for a few days.”

  “Rome!” At the mention of the Holy City, Mrs. Novak grasped Evie’s arm and pulled her inside, then pointed to a photograph of Pope John Paul II, the ultimate measure of success for the Polish people. Underneath was the ubiquitous lit candle. She made the sign of the cross over the altar and turned back to Evie. “Did you see the impostor?”