Residual Burn (Redwood Ridge Book 4)

by Kelly Moran

  Head swimming, she cleared her throat. “Um, it was good, thanks.”

  He grinned wider, still hovering, eyes on her. “Parker, mind if we bolt? It’s been a long week. Catch you tomorrow?”

  “Sure, man. I’m not into threesomes.”

  Jason winked. “Your place or mine, sweetheart?” He squinted. “Scratch that. Mine. I’ve been on shift all day. We need to feed Storm.”

  We, not he, needed to feed the kitten. He’d been doing that a lot lately, dropping I from his vocabulary.

  She felt the eyes of everyone in the joint when they left, and by the time she’d parked at her complex and walked across the street to Jason’s, the sensation had barely dulled.

  Knocking, she turned the knob. “Okay to come in?”

  “Yep. I’m in the spare room.”

  She closed the door, making her way through the living room and down the hall. Fingers wrapped around her wrist and she was tugged into his bedroom instead of his office. The door closed behind her and one-hundred ninety pounds of hot, hard male pinned her in place.

  “Hello, Ella.” He drove his fingers in her hair and crashed his mouth to hers.

  There was a desperate, needy quality to the kiss, an urgency he hadn’t displayed before, and her body grew warm. She grabbed the front of his tee, bunching the material, and silently begged for more. He stroked his tongue across the top of hers, something he did often and right before…

  His hands left her hair and cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples. His touch and the order in which he did told her his level of desire, how much he wanted her or how far he planned on taking things. He set his hands on her waist, where before he’d always stopped, but he reached around and grabbed her backside.

  She moaned, wrapping her arms around him and sliding her hands up his back to hold his shoulders from behind. Swirling her tongue against his, she fought the dizziness in order to stand upright. The apex of her thighs ached and her breasts tingled and a hum sang through her veins.

  He hauled her away from the door and spun her around, backing her toward the bed. She landed sideways with a flop and he straddled her hips, hovering over her.

  Looking down at her, he caressed her cheek with his fingertips, the contact as gentle as his gaze. “We won’t take this too far tonight, but I’d like to play if you’re okay with that? All I could think about all day was you and getting you alone.”

  Aww pinged her chest at the same moment her mouth operated of its own accord. “Play?”

  Wicked grin. “Yes, play.” He ran one finger between her breasts, lower. All the way past her belly button to the snap of her jeans. “I want my mouth on you, want to taste you.”

  “Oh.” Oh, goodness. That. Well, there went her pulse. Dizziness and curiosity ran rampant. Her skin flushed and she struggled to breathe. “I’ve never…uh…done that. I might not be good at it.”

  Embarrassment, meet thy match.

  He smiled, bringing his lips back to hers to speak against them. “No skill required. You just have to lie there and enjoy.”

  Yes, okay, but… “I mean in regards to you. Me doing the same to you. I’m not real sure how. I mean, sure. I’ve thought about it and heard people talk, but I’ve not ever actually participated in…that.”

  “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. It’s only me. You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” He groaned. “In saying that, all I can picture is your gorgeous mouth around me and I’m about to lose my mind.”

  His arms went around her back, urging her to sit up. Off went her shirt before she could blink, and he was laying her back down. He lowered his head, closing his teeth around her nipple through her bra.

  Bra. Shoot. Had she worn a good panty set today? Opening her eyes, she glanced at herself. Green satin with lace around the edges. Excellent. One of her sexier undergarment pairs and…

  He circled her belly button with his tongue and undid the snap of her pants. Slid the zipper down.

  “Oh, gosh.” She moaned, sinking her fingers in his hair.

  “Gonna take these off, sweetheart.” He slid her jeans over her hips, down her legs, and moved to kneel between her thighs. Staring at her, he gently brushed his fingers across the edges of her stockings. “I’m going to move my hands lower.”

  Lower? She thought…

  He skimmed past her thighs to her knees. She tensed immediately, her skin cooling as heat dissipated. She raised her arms, but he shook his head.

  “Let me touch you. Look at me. It’s only me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

  The reverence in his calm tone, his gaze locked on hers, was enough for her to get out of her head and back on what they’d started. Until he inched past her knees to her calves, and she had to fight to breathe. Panting, she bit her tongue. The feeling in her lower extremities was a dulled sensation due to the scars and nerve damage. Yet knowing his hands were there, seeing them, made her hyperaware and oversensitive. Panic bubbled in her chest.

  “Shh. Only me, sweetheart. Look up here. At my face. That’s it. See me.”

  She pulled a deep breath, meeting him halfway, and his woodsy cologne was a balm. Familiar. New. Sexy and comforting alike. She found nothing but affection, patience, and sincerity in his hazel depths.

  The band around her throat eased. The stab in her chest retracted. Heat replaced the cold once more, and she realized she’d stopped shaking.

  “There you are.” He smiled, sliding his hands back up to her knees and paused on her thighs. He leaned over her, brushed his nose against hers. “I like touching you. Now feel me.”

  Dipping his head, he kissed her neck, her ear, her throat. She stroked his shoulders, toyed with the fine hairs on his nape while he descended. Past her breasts, beyond her stomach to where she throbbed for him. Watching her, he tugged her panties off, tossing them over his shoulder.

  Nerves and anticipation rendered her immobile, wondering if he liked what he saw or how she smelled or what it would feel like to have him there. If she was supposed to react or if her responses would be normal. But, without warning, he grabbed her hips, buried his face in her heat, and groaned.

  All her doubts and questions flew into oblivion. Bombarded by sensory overload, she threw her head back. He teased her clit with shallow flicks of his tongue, followed it by nipping. Over and over. On and on. He slowly increased the pressure and shifted.

  Gosh. Oh gosh, then his fingers were there, stroking, circling, penetrating. The minor amount of pressure inside her, combined with his mouth, had tension building in her lower abdomen. It cultivated, until all she should do was arch toward the amazing things he was doing. A tingle shot down her spine. Her muscles clenched. Her body bowed. She reached over her head, encountering nothing but blankets. She gripped them, hard as she could, to keep herself in place, have something to hold while the world blurred around her.

  A cry shot past her lips as she exploded. Wracking convulsions locked her in a suspended state of bliss while white hot electricity zapped her system into overload. Just when it became too much, when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he eased up, slowed his ministrations, and worked her down again.

  He sat on his haunches between her knees while she stared up at the ceiling, panting like a lunatic. Heck, she was still trembling.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Lifting her head, she looked at him. A smile curved his lips, endearing with a little awestruck thrown in. A swallow worked his throat and he shook his head as if to clear it.

  Not sure how to go about reciprocating, she sat up and slid her hands under his shirt. He closed his eyes and inhaled. She removed the tee and set it aside, then had to stop to look at him.

  Such an amazing body. Lean waist, undefined ridges of abs, hard pecs with a light dusting of hair that matched the sandy blond tone on his head. He clenched his fists resting on his thighs, and his biceps bunched. Veins popped and tendons bulged.

  “You don’t have to, Ella.”

  “I want
to.” Badly. To touch and learn him. Explore what he liked and didn’t. Make him feel half as good as he’d done for her. “I’m not sure how.”

  He took her hands in his and placed them over the fly on his jeans where a distinct impression of his erection pressed against the denim. Watching her, he guided her in unfastening the button, sliding the zipper down, and freeing him from the boxers underneath.

  She sucked in a breath, staring. He had a long, narrow shaft, the thick head reaching his navel. Curly hair, the same shade of sandy, was at the base. Thick veins ran the length of him. She reached for him, but retracted her hands.

  He gently circled her wrists and brought her hands back to him, encouraging her to wrap her fingers around him. “There’s no wrong way to touch me. Just avoid using teeth.” He smiled, tension wrenching his brows. “I’m going to like whatever you do.”

  Nodding, she tightened her grip a tad and stroked him, base to tip.

  He let out a long, loud groan. “Oh, yeah. You’re doing just fine.”

  Empowered, she did it again, and he tilted his face toward the ceiling, respirations increasing. A few more strokes, and she transferred one hand to his balls, cupping him. His lips parted like he was trying to suck more air and wasn’t succeeding. Bending, she licked around the edges of his crown, earning another groan.

  Since he seemed more than satisfied with her movements, she took about a quarter of him in her mouth. He made a choking sound. Shaking hands settled on her head, fingers threading in her hair. Since she didn’t think she could take more of him, she pumped her hand below her lips.

  “Sweet Christ, yes. Just like that.”

  She grew damp all over again, throbbing as she worked him. After a short time, she realized he preferred a firm grip and hard suction, but a lighter touch on his balls. She kept the rhythm, going at it, enjoying his sounds of pleasure until his body grew taut.

  “Ella,” he whispered brokenly. His fingers clenched in her stands. “About there, sweetheart. I’m—”

  He dragged her mouth off his shaft, wrapping his hand around hers as she continued to stroke. Fascinated, she watched his face, the pain and pleasure as he came undone. The way his amazing, athletic frame rippled. Rigid, he let out a roar between clenched teeth.

  In increments, he went lax and, finally, looked at her. A myriad of expressions crossed his features, there and gone in a blink. Anger, bliss, confusion, shock, joy, relief. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. Until satisfaction took the reins and he smiled sweetly at her, warmth in his eyes.

  “Soon as I recover, we’re doing that again.”

  Rolling her lips over her teeth, she grinned. Again meant more. Again meant he didn’t find her boring.

  Chapter 15

  Dear Jason,

  The blinds in your bedroom have strings. Honestly, the things you don’t tell me! This is the most fascinating form of amusement. How dare you keep this toy from me? I shall play with it endlessly.

  Sincerely,

  Storm

  Jason grinned and set his cell facedown on the oak table where he’d eaten hundreds of meals as a boy. Shaking his head, he went back to the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas on his plate. The latter he did under duress. Peas were gross. Only for his mama would he force them down his gullet.

  Her kitchen had remained unchanged since childhood, as well. Yellow wallpaper with snapdragons in a vertical row that had faded from white to ivory over time. Light oak cabinets matched the table and the formica countertops were an eyesore. The Swedish Chef cookie jar still had a chip in the lid from when he’d been caught sneaking baked goodness. Wear patterns were in the linoleum in front of the sink from her washing dishes.

  “Was that her?”

  He glanced at his mom, at the same short blonde bob hairstyle she’d had all his life and round cheeks, then at Lou sitting next to her, mustache twitching as he chewed, salt and pepper hair slicked away from his forehead.

  “Yeah, it was her. She writes these texts every time she watches the furball for me. Except she phrases them like they’re from the cat, not her. It’s adorable. Apparently, Storm discovered my blinds have cords today.”

  A serene smile, and Mama forked a bite of potatoes. “So things are going well, then?”

  He shrugged, trying to be evasive. “Sure. I like her.” Understatement of the decade. He was getting to the point where he way more than liked her.

  Lou wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Like who?”

  “His new girlfriend.” Mama winked.

  “His what, now?” Lou’s eyes bugged from his skull. “You’re dating someone?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Mama sighed. “For almost a month. I thought I told you.”

  “No, you certainly did not. Is it raining frogs? Have the rivers dried up and turned to dust? Hold it, are you being blackmailed, son?”

  Jason rolled his eyes so hard they thunked the sockets. “No. I happen to like her a lot, okay? Her name is Ella. She’s a teacher over at the elementary school.” Weirdest part? Besides the fact he was in a relationship and not having a coronary? He was happy. Content. Satisfied. Even terms like “girlfriend” or “dating” no longer set off an itch under his skin.

  In fact, he’d rather be over at her place watching a movie and trying to get her out of her clothes, but weekly dinners with his mother and Lou had been a tradition since he’d been a kid.

  Lou paled several shades as he meticulously set down his fork. “You don’t mean Ella Sinclair?” He jerked his attention to Mama.

  She nodded.

  Lou’s expression dialed to WTF.

  Mama shook her head.

  Back and forth, they did some strange form of telepathic communication that Jason wasn’t privy to, nor was he certain he wanted to be. “What’s the problem?”

  “Nothing, baby. He’s just surprised. We’re happy for you.” She set her napkin aside and dropped her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers under her chin. “On a different note, there’s something Lou and I have been wanting to discuss with you.”

  Jason’s Spidey sense tingled and warning knells clanged. It didn’t help that Lou’s already pallid skin tone grew ashen. “Lay it on me.”

  “Well,” she said through a sigh, setting her hand over Lou’s. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

  Stock still, Jason stared unblinking.

  “What?” Because no way, no how did she mean what he suspected she meant. They had to be joking, one of his mother’s many ways of throwing him off so she could laugh at catching him off guard.

  “We’ve been friends all these years, and one day, something just clicked.” She smiled adoringly at Lou. Adoringly, for fuck’s sake.

  This wasn’t happening. “For…” Jason chugged half his water and painstakingly put the glass down. “For how long?”

  Lou finally grew a pair and looked Jason in the eye. “Five years last month. I want her to marry me, but she won’t say yes until you know about us.”

  Us. They were an us.

  Wait. Come again?

  “Five years?” He launched to his feet. To do what, he hadn’t a clue. It might involve his fist to his boss’s face. “You’ve been lying to me for five years?”

  Oh shit, he was going to lose it. He could feel the claws digging into his brainstem, crawling up his skull and scratching inside. His temples throbbed to the point of pain. Worse, so much worse, was the hurt and betrayal in his gut. Churning. Coiling.

  “Baby, calm down. We just didn’t think you were ready to hear the news. It’s a big adjustment and you don’t do so great with change. But, like Lou said, I won’t say yes until you’re onboard.”

  Yes? So she planned on saying yes. His mama. Married to someone else. A man not his father. In fact…

  He seethed at Lou, and wanted to kill the guy. “You were Dad’s best friend.”

  Like Jason and Parker, Dad and Lou had grown up together, were the closest of friends. They’d served at the firehouse together. Lou had been the unfortunate one to show up
on Mama’s front porch to tell her Dad had died. He’d held their hands through the funeral, the grief process, and every second Jason had aged since that tragic day.

  “Yes, I was, and I’d give anything to have him back again.” Lou rose from the table, head lowered. “But he’s not here. You’re the closest to a son I’m going to get, and I’ve loved you since the moment you came into this world.” He looked at Jason, and the sentiment in the man’s gaze nearly collapsed the fury erecting. “Your mom and I battled through our guilt about our feelings. Truth is, I love her and she loves me. The real question is, can you move past your guilt?”

  He had to be fucking kidding. “Me? What the hell do I have to feel guilty about? I didn’t do a damn thing wrong.”

  “No, you sure didn’t. You had no part in the fire that killed him. You were just a boy. It was an accident. A terrible, tragic accident. They happen every second of every day. That’s what we do. That’s our job, to save those we can. But you couldn’t have saved him any more than I could have, and trust me, I tried. And yet, you carry the guilt of his death like a shroud.”

  Jason gnashed his teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” Somber, Lou sighed. “You refuse to get attached to any woman you date because you might lose them and you think you don’t deserve happiness. You chronically take risks on the job and off the clock. It’s the only time you feel alive and, deep down, you’re hoping you won’t survive. One of these days, luck’s going to run out. I’ve been dreading that since the day we buried your father. Your mother’s worried half into the grave. So am I. So is Parker and all those who care for you.” He sniffed and straightened, squaring his shoulders. “Now, tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about, that I don’t know you.”

  The man was losing his marbles. Going senile. Batshit crazy. Off his rocker.

  Jason glanced at his mom for backup, to demand she tell Lou he was wrong. Way out of line and wrong. But Jason’s heart stopped dead in his chest and the band around his trachea cinched to find…her eyes were wet. Tears. Pooling on her lashes and splashing her cheeks.