Shawn falls backward down the last few steps, practically into my lap, where I’m cradling the dog. I look up and see his hand scarlet red and blistering. Even his tough guy act can’t quite conceal the pain he’s in.

“Oh, my God, Shawn! You’re hurt!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” He doesn’t mean to take it out on me. The snark is a release for pain, whether real of emotional - I’m all too aware of how that works. “Is the dog okay?” he adds, softening.

“His fur is a little singed. I can’t imagine what he went through to get home.” I set Mr. Pete down, tell him to stay, and take Shawn’s hand in both of mine. “This looks bad, Shawn. I’m so sorry.”

“Is there a first-aid kit down here by any chance?”

“I don’t think so.” I bite back the rest of the tears but one rolls down my cheek. I’m feeling terrible Shawn hurt himself because of me.

“Honey, stop, he says, lifting his damaged hand and thumbing away the rogue tear. “We’re safe. Mr. Pete is safe, this old burn hardly hurts at all.”

I know he’s lying for my sake.

“I can get treatment as soon as my crew gets here. They’ll be here as soon as the fire passes over. It will be okay.”

I wish I knew how to pray. From down here, the fire sounds like a freight train bearing down on us. Mr. Pete is cowering and whimpering so I have to pick him up again. I lean into Shawn’s huge chest and do the same in his strong arms.

“Shh, shh,” I croon to Mr. Pete. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Lila.”Shawn’s voice is so quiet I have to stop shushing the pup and listen carefully.

“Yes?”

The sound of the flames above us is filling the silence. I lift my head and find Shawn’s gaze. He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. I’m trembling but not from fear this time.

“If… Well, I want you to know, if… when we get out of this, I’d like to get to know you better.”

My heart skips a beat. I don’t know if it’s because I’d like that too, or because I heard that if. “You said we’d be okay,” I accuse.

His arms tighten around me. “I believe we will. What’s that quote from that old movie you women love so much?”

“What movie?” I shout, momentarily distracted from the unbearably loud roar from above. It’s getting hotter in here, but his question is so random I’m focused on it.

“That one with the Cowardly Lion,” he shouts back.

“The Wizard of Oz?”

“That’s it. Remember what the Wizard said? ‘We have nothing to fear as long as we believe.’”

I can hardly believe my ears. This tough, sexy, take-charge guy quotes The Wizard of Oz? In what world does that happen? I fall in love a little.

“I believe,” I whisper to myself. For a second, the fear recedes. A thump on the metal door brings it back, and I jump. “What was that?”

“The structure is failing,” Shawn says, matter of factly. “Can you handle being in the dark?”

“I guess. Why?” I ask.

“That lantern is using precious oxygen. I’d like to put it out.”

Oh, my God. If he’s worried about the small flame taking too much oxygen, are we really safe? I break out in a sweat. Is it the terror, or is it getting even hotter? Though I’m receiving comfort from holding my puppy and being held by Shawn, it’s too hot. I break away from his arms, put Mr. Pete down in a corner, a pile of burlap bags underneath the shelf where it wraps around. I’m almost envious that Mr. Pete is asleep in half a minute.

I nod to Shawn. “Okay. I’m going to sit down right here. You can blow out the lantern. Don’t leave me.”

“As if,” he quips.

I catch sight of a superior grin as he sits next to me. Those two words seem loaded with some meaning. He takes my hand in his and with the other, reaches to twist the lantern’s wick down. The light goes out, plunging us all into total blackness.

“It seems we have some time to … make use of,” he murmurs in my ear. The unexpected sound, coupled with his lips nuzzling my ear, make me jump again. He puts his arms around me.

“What do you suggest?” I murmur, my voice cracking.

“You’re the creative one,” he says. His own voice is husky and in the dark I can tell it’s not from the smoke inhalation. His desire is apparent. His hunger communicates itself through every pore.

“You seem pretty full of ideas,” I say.

“If it’s too hot, I suggest we take off our clothes.”

I can hear in his voice that the cocky grin is back. As much as I like the idea of his suggestion, I can’t help pushing back.

“Sure. And when your crew gets here and finds us naked, what’s our excuse?”

His lips move around behind my ear, making me gasp. His fingertips locate my nipple, prodding through my tank into the darkness and pinch, tugging the fleshy bullet through the fabric.

“Oh, I won’t need an excuse, he burrs. “They know me.”

My jaw drops. Did he just admit he’s a player? Despite the tingles running down my skin, from his lips behind my ear to my stupid, traitorous nipples, I push him away.

“Give me a break,” I say, laughing.

“Okay,” he lets go of me. I remind myself to be careful what I wish for. From somewhere above my head, he continues. “But I wasn’t joking before. I do want to know you better.”

“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Sounds to me like you can have any woman you want. Why me? The crazy stubborn lady who makes creepy art.”

His hand cradles my face, making me jump again.

“Well, you’re beautiful. That’s a plus. You’re loyal, and genuine with your love, another plus.”

“That’s two pluses,” I say.

“And I like a stubborn woman,” his voice is filled with restrained humor which comforts me in the dark. Then he adds: “More fun to conquer.”

“Oh, my God. Every time I start to like you, you say something like that.”

For some reason, though, my nipples peak again at the thought of what he means by conquer.

“Just think about it, Lila. You enjoyed it, back there in the studio. Don’t try to deny that.”

He’s right, but he’s also arrogant, insufferable, and, shit, too damn sexy.

And he’s still talking, in my ear again, now, though I realize the noise from above has quieted.

“I could make you enjoy it even more. Fill your senses in a way you’d never forget.”

His hand steals back to my waist and slides its way up under my tank top to cover my breast with a firmly insistent squeeze. A twitch of his wrist lifts the cotton up over my mounds and they tumble free. The exposure is somehow more intense in the pitch black and my body fills with urgent need. When he bends to suckle, his tongue laving across the hard pellet, I almost lose it.

I know I should resist, but I have no power. I lean back on both arms, palming the rough ground and offering him free access. He needs no words to know I’ve surrendered. He pauses just long enough to tug the tank top up and over my head, as I sit up to help. I shrug out of it and lean back again.

I strain to see his body but not even a shadow is discernable in the dark. My senses are overwhelmed as his lips and tongue explore one breast, while his arm supports me, and the other hand teases my other nipple. Just as I’m sure my other nipple will somehow start screaming out its ache for attention, he switches sides. I arch my back to give him better access, and he sweeps my arms out from under me, laying me back.

Now he’s nipping and sucking while his free hand expertly finds the button on my jeans, unzips, and delves inside. I’m pillowed on his arm, the one with the injured fingers, as he pushes his others through my swollen folds. I stifle a scream and let out a gasp as he finds my clit.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “So responsive.” There’s an approving note in his voice. “Lift your hips, sweetheart.” I lift obediently, and he strips my jeans to my knees, then pushes them all the way off, taking my flip flops with them.

Now I wish he could see me. I spread my thighs as wide as I can until they ache and still I want to open myself wider. I haven’t felt him remove any of his clothing, and I’m completely naked for him, open like a dripping piece of fruit. I reach t blindly for his chest and find his turnout coat. I push at the stiff fabric.

“In a minute, sweetheart. I want you naked and spread for me.”

I feel him shift and mourn the loss of his lips on my breasts. In the next moment, white light skewers through my core as his fingers part my folds again. This time he grazes across my bulbous clit so I shiver then dips into me. I can feel his smile as he spreads my juices up to coat my clit. With another shifting movement he bends down and his lips land on my spread pussy, taking me into the stratosphere.

Huge bursts of lust pool in my core and ripple through every limb. Without being able to focus on a visual stimulus, I’m lost in the sensation of Shawns’ coarse muscle flexing beneath his leathery hot skin. After that, everything is inside me and intensified a thousand per cent. I might explode like a gas tank meeting flames from the need pressing at my edges. All my focus is on one tiny bundle of flesh and nerves. I have just enough presence of mind to suppress the keening I know will wake the dog, but it takes all my concentration. His tongue sends honeyed fire through me.

Unable to stop myself, I fist his hair and press him closer into my spread pussy. He responds by pushing his tongue hard into me, scooping at the walls. I gasp, and he returns to sucking, licking, and lightly nipping my clit. I’m going to come, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it or even slow it down.

I arch, bowing off the carpet in ecstasy, and every nerve in my body fires at once. “Ahhhhhhhh!” I can’t help it. The guttural sound rips from my throat. His hand covers my mouth instantly.

My pussy clenches convulsively, once on nothing, and then on his fingers, which he’s pushed into me as the aftershocks keep me twitching and trembling. As I come down, I clutch his hair again and pull him up for the deep kiss I crave, tasting myself.