Page 5 of Up In Flames

“Or?”

Is she seriously baiting me? Because in this town, everyone has a reputation, and I know mine well enough to know that she should know not to push me too far.

“Little girls who play with fire get burned, Jelly Bean. If you’re not careful, a guy might think that you’re goading him into taking you on a tour of his Red Room. I bet I could convince you to be civil.”

Ah. There it is. She might lift her chin and look away, sniffing as if she has no idea what I’m talking about, but no one turns that shade of lobster without having heard about my spanking bench.

I’ve got my kinks. I’m not ashamed of them.

“Easy, big guy,” Pete mutters, coming along beside me. He hefts the portable ladder from his shoulder and angles it against the trunk. “Miss Adams, do you want me to come up, or do you think you can step down to the top rung?”

And I swear, if looks could kill, Nina Adams would be on death row for murder. Of me, not Pete. Every time her gaze swings to him, she softens and smiles.

“What? You only like married men?” I ask, the words out of my mouth before I can rethink them.

“I like anyone but you. Don’t you have some children to eat, or something?” One of her arms drops from around the tree, and she flings it out, too fast, too far, in a gesture meant to send me away from her. “Go bother someone—ah!”

I watch the disaster in slow motion. The way she’s been clutching the trunk, her arm has probably gone to sleep. The thrust accounts for her wobble. The dead-arm accounts for why, when she desperately tries to regain her balance, she fails, and only smacks her hand against the trunk. Tilting on the branch, she corrects too far in the other direction, then ends up pitching too far forward.

Jeez. The things a guy has to do to save a… well, I can’t call her a maiden, except in the sense that she’s unmarried. Jezabel? Given what I know about her, that sounds about right.

Whatever. I duck under the branch and catch Nina just as she loses her fight and plunges towards hard ground. One of my hands traps her waist. The other just happens to land between her legs in my effort to lift her up into carrying position.

And… oh… Oh, no. Because beneath my palm, soft, silky skin presses.

Pussy. I’m holding pussy. No guy in the world could mistake the feel of it: the soft folds, the silky glide, the unbearable rightness and fullness of being. My hand has managed to slip right inside the wide flapping tear in her jeans, locking into place.

On her naked flesh.

And I can’t. Let. Go.

Blue eyes widen again as full lips part—full, kissable, pink lips. Lips that probably mirror the color of the perfect part of her I’m feeling with every single cell of my straining dick that demands to know why my fingers are having all the fun.

I love women. All women. But Nina… I can’t believe this is happening.

“Er—uh, s-sorry.” I stammer, though I don’t disengage or move my hand. My thumb is right there on her clit, the part that’s swelling against my hold. And my middle finger… well, it’s one sure slide into the molten heat of her, and the knowledge makes my entire body twitch.

Pete slips out of his MFD regulation jacket and throws it over the top of Nina, thereby hiding from everyone else where my hand lies. I don’t know if he understands what’s happening, not exactly, but he’s providing me with a way to extricate my grip without causing a scene.

Except, I can’t. All I can do is stare into the most compelling blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

I should apologize some more. I should move my hand.

She should ask me to move my hand instead of turning a shade to which purple only aspires, while her eyes grow… hot.

“Hey, big guy, why don’t you carry Miss Adams back inside her home? Let’s get her comfortable while we check her for injuries.” Pete’s voice is extra-loud for the benefit of those gathered. He nudges me in the hip to get moving.

I don’t need further reminding. I start off at nearly a full gallop, but when the curvy body I’m groping begins moaning, a sweat breaks out on my forehead. The movement of my jog is stroking my hand against her. My fingers are leading her to an orgasm.

And suddenly, I want it. I want it so badly, I’m nearly coming myself. The whole of me pinpoints on what she’s feeling, even while I burn alive from the inside.

Or maybe it’s just that the jacket’s hot, and it’s spring, and uniforms are uncomfortable. That’s why I’m so… bothered. I’m boiling up into a raging inferno, and not because I’m making her spiral into molten sexiness, no. It’s just the confluence of events and environment.

My dick isn’t about to break through three layers of fire-retardant Nomex. I don’t think.

Fine. I’ve never been a good liar.

Nina’s eyes squinch shut. Her entire body flushes as I center my touch, at least the parts of her that I can see that aren’t covered by her tee-shirt, ripped jeans, and Pete’s jacket. Face, neck, arms, toes… all red as boiled lobsters. And she’s panting, lips quivering. And her nipples are hard little pebbles. I can’t see them, but I know.