Wild Heat (Hot Shots: Men of Fire 1)

Higher and higher she flew, her muscles tightening one by one until she thought she might shatter.

“Please, Logan,” she finally begged, even though she was a woman who'd never begged anyone for anything, ever.

He grasped a thigh in each hand and dragged her legs wider. Just the simple act of repositioning her and the feel of his hair brushing against her belly was enough to send her crashing over the edge. He thrust his tongue inside her and her muscles clenched and convulsed around him.

And then he was focusing every ounce of his attention on her. Licking. Sucking. Pulling at her until she wanted to scream with joy.

She'd never known it was possible to feel like this, like she was dying and coming to life all at the same time. He didn't stop licking her until her final tremor. She'd never known orgasms could be all-consuming, had never been limp and shattered afterward.

At last, she collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air. Logan shifted his weight from between her legs and brought his mouth back to her br**sts, tenderly nuzzling the undersides. Unlike other men who went straight for the nipple, he acted as if he had all the time in the world, and she found herself blossoming again beneath his mouth. She ached to feel his entire weight over her, and now that she'd found her breath again, all she wanted was to feel him sliding into her heat.

He lifted his head, a half smile on his beautiful lips. Lips that had brought her pleasure she'd never imagined possible.

“Soon,” he promised, “but not quite yet.”

She shifted and her foot grazed something hot and smooth. He immediately went stiff beneath her and, suddenly, she wanted him to know the torture of being teased—of being made to wait for something that was long past due.

She flexed her ankle and arched her foot, then pointed it and slid her toes slowly down his long length. Two could play the same game of anticipation and boundless desire.

Logan was levered above her on his forearms, his biceps and triceps shaking beneath her fingertips. And then the thick head of his erection was pressing into her heat.

The words “You win” came from his mouth a moment before he imprisoned her lips beneath his.

She bucked her hips into his hard heat, even though she knew better than to make love without protection. She was that far gone.

He allowed the head of his penis to slide into her, to stretch her wide, far wider than any other man before him. His eyes were blue-black with desire as he pushed inside another inch, and then another.

Her muscles gripped him tightly to pull him in farther. All the way in.

But Logan was a master of control, and her body ached for him as he pulled out and reached into his bedside table for one of the aforementioned condoms. He sheathed himself without her help—Lord knew her trembling hands would have been no use at all—and repositioned himself between her legs. He cupped her face and kissed her long and sweet.

She slid her hands against the great wall of his chest, then over his rib cage to hold on to his outspread lats. She shuddered as her forbidden dreams of making love to her mystery man from so many months ago came true.

“You're mine, Maya.”

His passionate words rocked her to the core and she opened wide for him, moisture flooding her canal to ease his passage. Again and again, he thrust his hard, thick length into her. His heavy weight pressed her into the bed and his skin grew slick beneath her hands. Sweat beaded between her br**sts and he bent his head to lick it from her skin without missing a beat, the steady propulsion of his hips driving her back up to what should have been an unattainable peak.

She'd never come more than once a night, not even hours apart. But here, beneath Logan's mouth and hands and erection, she was heading straight for another explosion, one that promised to be at least as powerful as her first.

He lifted his head again and locked his eyes on hers, knowing what was coming. And then his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on hers and she was wrapping her legs around his waist and rocking into him.

A cry of ecstasy tore from her throat and merged with his growl of pleasure as spasms wracked her body, starting from her heated core and working their way out to her skin, to the tips of her toes and fingernails and each hair on her head. She rode the length of his shaft again and again, her orgasm breaking her completely. She didn't know how long they lay together afterward, his wonderfully heavy weight pressing into her. It could have been seconds. Minutes. Maybe even hours.

Maya had known from previous experience that Logan could play her body like a fiddle … but she'd had no idea it would be a symphony.

Being with him felt—just as it had six months ago—so incredibly right, even though it was wrong for a million different reasons, more so now than it had been six months ago. Back then, she supposed she could claim the disorientation of grief for her impulsive actions. But now, minutes after begging Logan to take her hard and fast, her excuses fell flat.

Yes, she'd almost died.

Yes, she'd needed to feel alive.

But those were simply excuses for taking exactly what she wanted.

And she'd wanted him fiercely. Even though being with Logan—wanting Logan with every fiber of her being—spoke to her deepest fears.

Her mother had barely spoken at her father's funeral. But the one thing she'd said to Maya was forever etched into her brain.

Don't let yourself love a firefighter. It will only break your heart.

She hadn't had to say it again at Tony's funeral. It had been understood.

Now Maya was in a hotshot's bed, in a hotshot's arms. Logan was everything she'd ever wanted. Strong, courageous, willing to help people in need regardless of the risk to himself.

But all those pluses were minuses too.

The very things she admired about him, all of the things that made him so attractive, were the same things that made what he did on a daily basis so dangerous. She wished she could keep this contentment of being in his arms, hide inside of it.

But she couldn't allow herself to love—and lose— another man like him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MAYA STIFFENED and unwrapped her trembling legs from around his hips. She pushed against his chest, and in the aftermath of the most powerful lovemaking of his life, when all he wanted was for Maya to stay cradled and warm against his chest, Logan had no choice but to release his hold on her, to give her the space she demanded.

He'd been desperate to claim Maya as his own. She was so damn beautiful—and so incredibly responsive, even more responsive than he'd remembered. She'd seemed equally as possessed, and he'd wanted to be gentle with her, wanted to erase the threat of death that hung over her. And he hadn't been able to resist the sweet pull of her body, her slick heat.

r and higher she flew, her muscles tightening one by one until she thought she might shatter.

“Please, Logan,” she finally begged, even though she was a woman who'd never begged anyone for anything, ever.

He grasped a thigh in each hand and dragged her legs wider. Just the simple act of repositioning her and the feel of his hair brushing against her belly was enough to send her crashing over the edge. He thrust his tongue inside her and her muscles clenched and convulsed around him.

And then he was focusing every ounce of his attention on her. Licking. Sucking. Pulling at her until she wanted to scream with joy.

She'd never known it was possible to feel like this, like she was dying and coming to life all at the same time. He didn't stop licking her until her final tremor. She'd never known orgasms could be all-consuming, had never been limp and shattered afterward.

At last, she collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air. Logan shifted his weight from between her legs and brought his mouth back to her br**sts, tenderly nuzzling the undersides. Unlike other men who went straight for the nipple, he acted as if he had all the time in the world, and she found herself blossoming again beneath his mouth. She ached to feel his entire weight over her, and now that she'd found her breath again, all she wanted was to feel him sliding into her heat.

He lifted his head, a half smile on his beautiful lips. Lips that had brought her pleasure she'd never imagined possible.

“Soon,” he promised, “but not quite yet.”

She shifted and her foot grazed something hot and smooth. He immediately went stiff beneath her and, suddenly, she wanted him to know the torture of being teased—of being made to wait for something that was long past due.

She flexed her ankle and arched her foot, then pointed it and slid her toes slowly down his long length. Two could play the same game of anticipation and boundless desire.

Logan was levered above her on his forearms, his biceps and triceps shaking beneath her fingertips. And then the thick head of his erection was pressing into her heat.

The words “You win” came from his mouth a moment before he imprisoned her lips beneath his.

She bucked her hips into his hard heat, even though she knew better than to make love without protection. She was that far gone.

He allowed the head of his penis to slide into her, to stretch her wide, far wider than any other man before him. His eyes were blue-black with desire as he pushed inside another inch, and then another.

Her muscles gripped him tightly to pull him in farther. All the way in.

But Logan was a master of control, and her body ached for him as he pulled out and reached into his bedside table for one of the aforementioned condoms. He sheathed himself without her help—Lord knew her trembling hands would have been no use at all—and repositioned himself between her legs. He cupped her face and kissed her long and sweet.

She slid her hands against the great wall of his chest, then over his rib cage to hold on to his outspread lats. She shuddered as her forbidden dreams of making love to her mystery man from so many months ago came true.

“You're mine, Maya.”

His passionate words rocked her to the core and she opened wide for him, moisture flooding her canal to ease his passage. Again and again, he thrust his hard, thick length into her. His heavy weight pressed her into the bed and his skin grew slick beneath her hands. Sweat beaded between her br**sts and he bent his head to lick it from her skin without missing a beat, the steady propulsion of his hips driving her back up to what should have been an unattainable peak.

She'd never come more than once a night, not even hours apart. But here, beneath Logan's mouth and hands and erection, she was heading straight for another explosion, one that promised to be at least as powerful as her first.

He lifted his head again and locked his eyes on hers, knowing what was coming. And then his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on hers and she was wrapping her legs around his waist and rocking into him.

A cry of ecstasy tore from her throat and merged with his growl of pleasure as spasms wracked her body, starting from her heated core and working their way out to her skin, to the tips of her toes and fingernails and each hair on her head. She rode the length of his shaft again and again, her orgasm breaking her completely. She didn't know how long they lay together afterward, his wonderfully heavy weight pressing into her. It could have been seconds. Minutes. Maybe even hours.

Maya had known from previous experience that Logan could play her body like a fiddle … but she'd had no idea it would be a symphony.

Being with him felt—just as it had six months ago—so incredibly right, even though it was wrong for a million different reasons, more so now than it had been six months ago. Back then, she supposed she could claim the disorientation of grief for her impulsive actions. But now, minutes after begging Logan to take her hard and fast, her excuses fell flat.

Yes, she'd almost died.

Yes, she'd needed to feel alive.

But those were simply excuses for taking exactly what she wanted.

And she'd wanted him fiercely. Even though being with Logan—wanting Logan with every fiber of her being—spoke to her deepest fears.

Her mother had barely spoken at her father's funeral. But the one thing she'd said to Maya was forever etched into her brain.

Don't let yourself love a firefighter. It will only break your heart.

She hadn't had to say it again at Tony's funeral. It had been understood.

Now Maya was in a hotshot's bed, in a hotshot's arms. Logan was everything she'd ever wanted. Strong, courageous, willing to help people in need regardless of the risk to himself.

But all those pluses were minuses too.

The very things she admired about him, all of the things that made him so attractive, were the same things that made what he did on a daily basis so dangerous. She wished she could keep this contentment of being in his arms, hide inside of it.

But she couldn't allow herself to love—and lose— another man like him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MAYA STIFFENED and unwrapped her trembling legs from around his hips. She pushed against his chest, and in the aftermath of the most powerful lovemaking of his life, when all he wanted was for Maya to stay cradled and warm against his chest, Logan had no choice but to release his hold on her, to give her the space she demanded.

He'd been desperate to claim Maya as his own. She was so damn beautiful—and so incredibly responsive, even more responsive than he'd remembered. She'd seemed equally as possessed, and he'd wanted to be gentle with her, wanted to erase the threat of death that hung over her. And he hadn't been able to resist the sweet pull of her body, her slick heat.