“I already told you where we’re going.” He mounted the stairs. “I’m carrying you because I like having my hands on you.”
?
??I hope you like a strained back, because that’s what you’re going to get, lugging a hundred and eighteen pounds up a flight of stairs.”
“I’m a trained firefighter. I’m good for at least another five pounds.”
“Um…” She drew back, looked up at him, and gnawed her lip in a distinctly guilty way.
“What?”
“I gave you my driver’s license weight. I’m really a hundred and twenty-two pounds.”
He pretended to stumble on the final step and she let out a little scream and clutched at him. Just to hear her laugh, he tossed her over his shoulder in the classic fireman’s carry, and then, steps later, dumped her onto his bed. She bounced once and, still giggling, wiggled her way to the center. He smoothed her skirt down her legs, because as much as enjoyed her body, he really didn’t intend to claim it again until he’d fed her and given her a moment or two to relax. Still, there were a few details to see to.
“I forgot something.”
“Did you?” She raised her brows. “My underwear, out on your lawn?”
“No. They’re good there, as far as I’m concerned. I forgot this…” He leaned in, balanced his weight on his arms, and lowered himself over her until their lips were mere millimeters apart.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Oh.” She licked her lips. “Shame on you.”
He rubbed his lips over hers. “You’ll have to teach me a lesson.”
“Hmm.” She deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue into his mouth, winding it playfully around his. Playful or not, he felt himself sinking, especially when she reached up, twined her arm around his neck, and held on to him. Her other hand found his cheek. Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw, and the sheer tenderness of the gesture tightened his chest. Not wanting to crush her, he turned so they ended up on their sides, legs tangled, the soft weight of one breast pillowed against his arm. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, his chin, and then snuggled her face into his neck and sighed.
“You sure showed me, Bluelick.”
“I hope so.”
He rubbed his chin over her hair, sneaked a quick inhale of her shampoo. He’d missed her. Plain and simple, and it suddenly seemed stupid to have imposed an almost weeklong waiting period in the name of keeping things casual.
After a moment she raised her head. He watched her eyes scan the room. “Nice bedroom.”
He glanced around the utilitarian space. Dark wood furniture, a bookcase and a couple boxes of books he hadn’t bothered to unpack, midnight-blue curtains over the windows flanking the bed—thick and dark enough to block out sunlight if he needed to grab sleep in the middle of the day—and the bedspread in matching blue tones. Not a hell of a lot else. “It does the job. Big enough for my bed while still allowing some space to move.”
“I love all the pictures and knickknacks. So homey.”
He reached under her skirt and pinched her butt. “Take notes, smart-ass. This is how a straight guy decorates.”
…
This is how someone who’s not planning to stick around decorates, a voice inside her head corrected. She rolled out of his reach, settled onto her stomach a few inches away, and rested her chin on her folded arms. The possibility of his leaving depressed her so she closed her eyes and pushed it out of her mind. “It was awfully nice of Tyler to buy a round. Must make you feel appreciated.”
He shifted on the bed. Then his hands found her shoulders and started kneading. “I like how you did it better.”
“Ohhh, that feels good.” So good she didn’t protest when he lowered the zipper of her dress and unsnapped her bra. “Do you think anyone in Rawley’s noticed what we were up to?”
His hands continued to work their magic down her back. “We’re probably the talk of the town right now.”
Maybe, but the knowledge didn’t particularly bother her—not after having half the town believe she was a prude. She really did get a shameful thrill out of finally having a sex life worthy of discussion. She opened her mouth to reiterate as much, but then stopped, because of course, he might not feel the same way. He’d been off duty and on his own time, but would their shenanigans cause problems for him on the job? It sounded like he and Buchanan were already butting heads over the barn fire. Her heart sank at the thought. She opened her eyes and craned her neck to look at him. “Could people gossiping about us get you in trouble at work?”
“Nope.” The lack of concern conveyed in his single word reply calmed her worry. She would have relaxed back to her original position, but he used the moment to pull her dress down her arms. When he had her bare to the waist, he slid his hands along her spine. “Any trouble I have at work is strictly related to the job.”
“Then I think you’re trouble-free. Last I heard, which was tonight, people were buying you drinks and telling you what a great job you’re doing.”
“Yeah, people.” He swept her hair aside and massaged the back of her neck, and she barely stifled a sigh. “Buchanan thinks I’m overreacting to the recent fires because I have some vendetta against Justin.” His hands moved to her shoulders. “Pointing out to Buchanan that he, himself, had motive to set the blazes in order to collect insurance wasn’t the most diplomatic moment of my life.” A hint of amusement tinged his voice, but she heard irritation, too. She tried to raise her head to look at him, but he held her in place with the weight of his hands.