He nods sagely, but a curl at the edge of his mouth makes me think he might be mocking me. Then he leans closer to me, and nothing seems like a charade anymore. “So I’m not interested in you.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“News to me,” he answers in a soft voice that makes my heart go triple time for a few agonizing seconds. “I think the comic-book T-shirts are kind of hot, frankly. And you’re kind of a crazy cat lady—although I’m not sure you can be a crazy cat lady if you don’t actually own a cat… How does that work, anyway?”
“Just stop it, Jesse. I don’t—”
“Doesn’t matter. Because regardless of what kind of crazy you are, you’re fucking hot. And as long as you’re pretending you’re my girlfriend, I might as well take advantage of that, right?”
I swallow hard. It would be so easy to give in to the temptation that’s filling the car with heat, that’s making my ears buzz. But that would lead nowhere good. Not for any of us. “‘Pretending,’” I remind him. “That’s the key word here.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, but this time he doesn’t answer me. Instead he slides his hand across the top of my thigh then over the curve, so his fingertips touch the inner seam of my jeans. The side of his hand is millimeters from my crotch. Watching his own hand as it moves, he shifts it a little, even closer, his fingers tightening minutely, and I barely choke back the needy sound I can feel rising in the back of my throat.
Surely he’s not serious. Surely he doesn’t actually find me attractive. God, surely he doesn’t want me. But there’s his hand, touching me almost intimately, and when I let my gaze stray toward him, I can see the full, thick hardness of his erection pressing against the seam of his jeans.
He brings his gaze back up to mine, and my eyes snap to his. He’s smiling, a sultry curve of his lips, and he starts to close the distance between us.
His mouth meets mine. He’s gentle at first, as if he’s feeling me out. His mouth is soft, and it feels good to have it there against mine. It’s different, somehow, from the way he’s kissed me before. Maybe because before we had an audience. Now it’s just him and me, alone in a car where the windows are starting to steam up in spite of the cross breeze coming off the water outside.
He draws back a little so his lower lip is still barely brushing mine, then he dives in again.
This time it’s serious.
Reaching across the car, he cups the back of my neck with one hand, pulling me a little closer while his mouth presses into mine. His tongue outlines my lips then presses into the seam. I open for him. I can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed like this—so long since I’ve been kissed at all with any kind of sincerity. Even with Troy, things had devolved to little more than an occasional peck on the lips by the time we ended. Now, my whole body is lighting up, and I’m realizing how much I’ve missed physical contact.
Nothing about the way he touches me is casual or cursory. Nothing about it feels like he’s pretending. His hand at the back of my neck holds me still for a few seconds, then shifts, tilting my head so he can open my mouth wider, explore deeper. He’s not gentle anymore. He’s commanding. Demanding. His other hand drifts higher on my leg until he brushes my pussy. Heat floods me, and I know I’m drenching myself with hunger. A finger pushes against me, as if he would penetrate me with it if the denim weren’t in the way.
Then he moves that hand, lifts it while his tongue spears into me in a steady, hungry rhythm. He cups my breast. My nipple springs up hard against his palm, and another thread of sheer lust spears through me. It’s like being stabbed with needles, it’s so intense.
I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore. I start to wonder why I thought I should, under the circumstances. I jerk at his shirt and manage to shove a hand up under it, feeling hot skin, corded muscle. My fingers press into the groove of his spine. I get my other hand up the front of his shirt, digging into the hardness of his pecs, the soft hair that covers them. While he’s teasing my nipple with the sharp edges of his fingernails, I find one of his, thrumming it until it rises nearly as hard as my own.
His mouth draws back suddenly from mine, moving to my neck. Biting. He lays a trail of sharp nips down the side of my neck then onto my shoulder. I’m so ready for him. So willing. He could take me right now, and—
There’s a noise from the backseat. It’s faint but clear, as Christopher makes an odd, sniffling noise. I jerk back so fast I wonder if I’ve managed to sprain something.
Peering into the backseat, I can see Christopher is fine and also still asleep. But that noise was a wake-up call. I need to be more careful. There’s more at stake here than just my own libido.
I look back at Jesse, expecting him to be upset. But he’s just watching me, a rueful look on his face. His hand is still on my breast, and he runs his thumb lazily over the curve.
“Point taken,” he says quietly. “But I want you to know—and I’m not joking here, Maddy, not one bit—if Christopher weren’t in the car right now, we’d be fucking in this front seat.”
I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “The gear shift’s in the way,” I finally say. “And there’s not a lot of room.”
He chuckles. “You underestimate my skills.” Straightening, he puts the keys back in the ignition. “And I have many.”
He gives me a broad wink and starts the car.
Chapter 8
Jesse
There’s nothing quite like the smell of burning plastic. It drifts on the breeze into the courtyard of the apartment complex. It’s not burning anymore—we put the fire out—but the smell’s going to linger for a while. Not just in this courtyard, but inside my nose, in the back of my throat. That shit takes forever to go away.
On the positive side, we were able to evacuate everyone in the building and get the fire put out before it damaged more than a single unit and one of the adjacent apartments. All thanks to a working smoke detection system. I’m just making sure all the equipment gets shut down properly so we can get the trucks back to the fire station.
There was a time when successfully dealing with a fire like this one made me feel calm, deeply satisfied, like what I do actually meant something. I could help people. Save people’s lives.
I could save perfect strangers, but I hadn’t been able to do a damn thing for Lacey. While she was sick, my job gave me a feeling of control. The satisfaction of a job well done is still there, but it’s not the same. Lacey’s gone, and all I have left of her is some pictures and her goddamn cat.
And the cat’s therapist. My thoughts drift to Madison.
There’ve been more than a few women in my life, most of them not for very long. I’ve never run into anybody like Maddy, though. She seems to genuinely have no idea how desirable she is. I want nothing more than to convince her I want her. I sure as hell don’t have to convince myself. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman as badly in my life. Even the fact she has a kid isn’t a turn-off, and that’s usually been a deal breaker with me. I actually like her kid, though. He’s fun to talk to, and he likes trucks. So he can’t be bad, right? I could deal with being a dad to a kid like that.
That idea brings me up short. A dad? Me? How did my brain go down that path? I shake my head. Something’s short circuited in my thought process, that’s for sure.
“We about done here?” Whitaker asks me, jerking me back to reality.
The guys have been standing around waiting for me to give the order to head back to the station. When I focus on Whitaker, I can tell he’s amused by the fact I was just spacing out.
“Yeah. I think we can start packing up.” I suit words to actions and start rolling up the yards of hose that need to go back onto the truck before we can leave.
“Man, you were about a million miles away,” Whitaker adds, chuckling.
“Probably thinking about that new piece of tail of his,” says Carter with a laugh. His choice of words pisses me off, but I let it go, knowing he doesn’t really mean anything by it. “She’s ho-o-ot.”
“You’re just jealous,” I shoot back, “’cause the only thing you’re taking to bed tonight is your right hand.”
The other guys laugh, shoving Carter in the shoulder.
“So is it serious?” Whitaker asks. “She seemed really nice.”
I shrug. “I’m meeting her folks tonight for dinner. I don’t know if that means it’s serious or not.”
“Oh, that totally means it’s serious.” Whitaker nods wisely, his grin wide. He seems happier about the development than I am. Of course, I know it’s all supposed to be a big fake put-on so her parents will stop being assholes to her, but I don’t have to tell them that.
“Guess you’ve boned her then, huh?” The hair on the back of my neck stands up at the sound of Curry’s voice. “What’s it like sticking it to a MILF?”
My first instinct is to punch him in the throat. Nobody talks about my girl like that. Then I realize I just thought of her as “my girl,” and the mental twitch distracts me enough that I’m able to get myself under control before I beat his ass. Instead I just grin at him. It’s not a pleasant grin.