Fired Up
a friends to lovers romance with a firefighter twist
Mel crept out of the bedroom and down the hallway, her socked feet dragging across the wood floor. On the living room threshold, she hesitated, wringing her hands. Last night...
Her heart thumped. Oh God, last night she'd thrown herself at Adam. Had she really untied the straps of her halter dress to bare herself to him? She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh yes, she had done that. Still, she must've imagined writhing around on the bed? The memory of it rushed through her mind, exciting her body all over again even as she cringed at her behavior.
Yet she had gotten tipsy on purpose, aware of the effect it might have on her inhibitions. At the time, she'd longed for the freedom of loosening her iron grip on her desires. Once the alcohol had kicked in, she'd given in to those deep-seated, long-repressed cravings for...Adam.
Both hands on her burning cheeks, she shut her eyes and sent out a fervent prayer nothing else happened that she didn't remember. She scuffled out into the living room, her gaze passing over the floor-to-ceiling windows and their view over the tops of modern buildings toward the blue stripe of Lake Michigan. The vista, her favorite part of her apartment, failed to captivate her today. Instead, she became fixated on the pair of brown leather booths with metal buckles that sat by the sofa and the two decorative pillows piled at one end of the sofa, the top pillow indented in the shape of a human head.
Adam's boots. Adam's head. He must've slept on the sofa, ever the gentleman looking out for his best friend. If his boots were still here, that meant he was here.
One hand flew to her chest, where a pang started behind her ribs. How on earth could she face him after last night? Acid burned up her throat, souring her tongue. She glanced down at the yoga pants and form-fitting T-shirt she'd slipped on after crawling out of bed a few minutes ago. Maybe she should change into baggier clothes, something less attractive.
Oh for heaven's sake, it was Adam, not some lecherous creep. If he'd wanted to take advantage of her, he could've done it last night. Instead, he'd escaped her bedroom as fast as he could, no doubt embarrassed by her wanton behavior. Despite his aversion to commitment, Adam treated women with respect.
But where was he? Not in the living room, or the open kitchen.
Mel wandered through the living room, down the short hallway to the bathroom, and froze. The soft, lulling sound of the shower running emanated from the bathroom. The door was closed. Though she couldn't see inside the room, her mind went wild filling in the scene. On the other side, mere feet away, Adam stood in the shower naked and wet, surrounded by steam.
The water shut off. Paralyzed, she stared at the door.
Wet, nude, muscular Adam. Right there. On the other side. Her hand floated up to the door knob, her finger curled around the cool metal. Hot, wet Adam.
The door swung open, the knob jerked out of her hand.
Adam's gaze swept over the length of her. "Good morning."
"Morning," she croaked.
"How do you feel?" he asked, squinting at her.
"Fine."
He reached for her arm, but she shrugged away from his touch. The thought of his skin on hers ricocheted memories through her mind — Adam carrying her into the bedroom, her commanding him to kiss her, his stern refusal, her slithering across the bed like a porn star. Her cheeks flamed. Worst of all, she'd expressed a fervent desire to strip for him — and nearly demonstrated it. The heat in her cheeks rushed over her whole face, her ears, even her scalp.
Adam sighed, dropping his hand. "You remember, don't you?"
She hugged herself, unable to meet his gaze. "Um, yeah."
Her focus landed on his chest. Droplets of heated water drizzled down his chiseled torso to dip beneath his towel — the only piece of cloth on his body. The towel, sized for her, strained to encircle his hips. Her heartbeat accelerated at the sight of a bulge under the fabric. Last night, he'd been aroused. Very aroused. She'd seen the hard lump inside his pants and the shameless part of her had longed to thrust her hand under the waistband and fondle him.
"You were drunk," Adam said in a matter-of-fact tone. "That gives you a pass for what you said and did."
She tore her gaze away from his crotch and somehow, with an effort that made her stomach lurch, managed to look him in the eye. Well, the corner of his eye. The trouble was, she knew she hadn't been inebriated enough to earn a pass for anything she'd done last night. The champagne unchained a desire she'd sublimated and locked away in the deepest corner of her psyche. She no longer had the luxury of denying she harbored those feelings, but she could chain them up again. With five padlocks. Each welded shut.
"Hey." Adam hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it to level their gazes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Liar. She forced a smile. If he wasn't going to bring up her behavior, she'd repress the memory of it. "I do not need a babysitter, so you can leave. I'm sure your femme du jour is waiting for your call."
"How's your head?"
"A-okay. No headache, no nausea, my mind is clear as a bell." She almost wished it weren't, so she wouldn't have to recall last night.
"You seem okay," he said.
"Because I am." She shooed him away with her hands. "Go on home."
Folding his arms over his broad, gorgeous chest, he shook his head. "No. We need to talk."
"You'd leave the femme du jour out in the cold?"
"Stop with the stupid French words."
"It means woman of the day."
"Yeah, I got the gist of it." He scrunched up his face and cocked one hip.
The bulge protruded more and she could not wrench her gaze away from it. He was bigger than Devon. She swerved her head sideways, shutting her eyes. She meant taller, not — not — that kind of bigger.
She raised her eyes to the heavens. If her late father was watching over her, she prayed he'd averted his attention for the past twelve hours or so.
Mel rolled back her shoulders and nailed her gaze to Adam's. "I don't need a babysitter, which means you — "
"Not leaving." He pushed past her, headed for the laundry room.
She hurried after him. "Where are your clothes?"
"In the dryer."
"Why?"
"Because they were wet after I washed them."
"How did they get dirty?" she asked. He'd looked spic and span at the club, and from what she remembered of after, he'd been dirt-free in her bedroom. She tried to shove her hands in her pockets, but the damn yoga pants didn't have any. Don't think about last night, don't think about it, don't you do it.
She sidled along the wall, keeping a distance between them.
"Couldn't sleep," he said, pausing at the laundry room door. "So I brewed up some of your herbal tea, the stuff that's supposed to make you sleepy, but then I spilled it all over myself."
"You're not burned, are you?"
"No." He walked into the laundry room and yanked the dryer door open, huffing out a breath as he plunged his hands inside to retrieve his clothes. While he lumped them in his arms, he threw her a sidelong glance. "Unless you want to see me without this towel, Mel, you better leave."
Adam without the towel? Molten desire erupted inside her, spreading down between her thighs, triggering a dampness there. Shit.
He watched her and his lips parted, his tongue tracing the inner edge of his lower lip.
She could do nothing except stare at his chest, at the beads of moisture still clinging to his skin.
Adam dropped his clothes and sauntered toward her, stopping close enough the scent of his aftershave tantalized her with hints of cedar and spice. He planted his hands on the wall at either side of her shoulders, dipping his head down to whisper in her ear. "You're looking at me like you did last night. Like you want to lick me from head to toe."
Her clitoris pulsed, as if he'd caressed her there. She could almost feel his fingers on her. It didn't help that his voice had lowered to a deep, sensuous rumble. A bit too breathless for her peace of mind, she said, "Don't be ridiculous."
"Last night you wanted me to kiss you. Practically begged me."
His lips quivered on her earlobe, the sensation rippling through her all the way down to her core. "It was a mistake."
"But you knew what you were doing."
"Unfortunately."
He shifted his body closer, though not quite near enough for his muscles, or any other part of him, to brush against her. "You still want me to kiss you. I can feel it."
She tried for a sarcastic laugh, but it came out as a piglike snort.
"Damn," he said, "you really know how to turn a guy on."
Mel latched onto a slender thread of screwy logic, anxious to end this. "That's right, I'm not at all sexy without a glass or two of champagne in me. The old, boring control freak is back and she's here to stay."
"You're not a freak." He closed his lips around her earlobe, suckling, flicking his tongue across it. "And I'm hot for you no matter what noises you make. Snort like a pig, bark like a dog, I don't care."
"Gee, what a flattering portrait of me." Oh damn. Her voice was still too breathless for convincing sarcasm. Her gaze flittered over his face and his smooth, clean skin. "How did you shave? You weren't planning to stay the night."
"I used your razor." He ran his hand up and down his jaw, his gaze traveling down to her legs. "Next time you shave, you'll think of me. Maybe you'll even feel me on your skin."
Oh great. Now she would think of him next time — every time — she used that razor, the one that had kissed his skin.
Adam slid a hand down her arm to her waist, curving it around her hip. He covered her ear with his mouth, injecting his voice straight into her. "In the shower, I was imagining you in there with me. Wet. Naked. Rubbing up against me. I pretended I was fucking you instead of my hand."
Her pulse raced so fast and hard her head grew light. And of course, a vision exploded in her mind, of Adam stroking himself in the shower, grunting and groaning and throwing his head back as he climaxed.
While fantasizing about her.
No man had ever confessed to such a thing before. His statement would've struck her with the same power whether he'd made it up or really had done it. Moments ago. Fifteen feet from this spot. Her bra suddenly felt tight. Her nipples shot rigid, straining against the fabric.
His hand on her hip glided down, cupping her ass. "I'm going to kiss you. Now. If you don't want it, walk away."
Moving his head, he forced her to tip her head back to see him as he ran his tongue across his front teeth, back and forth, back and forth, and for a heart-stopping second she wondered if he was imagining exploring her with that tongue.
"Adam — "
"Leave, or I'm kissing you."
She ought to leave. Part of her wanted to. But a far more powerful part craved his mouth like she'd never craved anything in her life. Since she must've already wrecked their friendship with her antics last night, what harm could it do to enjoy a taste? Screwy logic again and you know it.
To hell with logic. She could indulge in one kiss before she enacted her new life plan. They could still be friends afterward. One kiss, nothing more.
Adam brushed his lips across hers, the barest contact, but it robbed her of breath. Her eyes fluttered shut and her body came alive, every nerve excited, every hair taut. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, so delicately, and she couldn't stop her lips from parting for him, pleading for him to take her mouth. And oh, she burned for him to do exactly that.
His tongue stole inside her mouth, stroking over hers, lingering with each silken caress, teasing her into responding. Still, he kept the pace languid, tormenting her with every lap, exploring her mouth as if he planned on spending days just kissing her. His hand massaged her ass, and as his fingers kneaded harder and faster, his tongue thrust hotter and stronger, propelling her need to dizzying heights.
She flattened her palms on his six-pack abs, dragging them down to the towel. Slipping her fingertips between the terrycloth and his skin, she tugged on the towel to urge him closer — or maybe to dislodge the towel. His tongue was driving her mad, driving out reason, until she had no clue what she was doing.
With both hands, he grasped her hips and dragged her into him, his erection trapped between their bodies. He rocked it against her. She yearned to enact one of her secret fantasies, to close her hand around his cock and pump until he had no choice but to take her right here, right now.
No. She didn't want that. She couldn't. Could she?
He pulled back, studying her.
"Adam, this was..." She shook her head, biting down on her lip. "A gigantic mistake."
She spun around and raced out of the laundry room.
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Fired Up
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