WILD PLEASURE {short erotic stories} Chapter 82: Fired Up (8)

He was hot. She hadn’t a date in months. And he didn’t feel like a stranger. “I’ll buy you dinner,” she decided.

“You’re feedin’ me?”

“Sure.” She grinned at him. “If you eat veggie burgers.”

She gave him credit. He didn’t flinch. “Sounds good.”

The cooking part of things went surprisingly well. She played chef while he manned the coals. They chatted while she got things going, but the conversation remained in neutral territory. He didn’t mention seeing her in her skivvies or their late-night calls. Instead, he caught her up on the park news, describing a couple of recent calls. She didn’t have much to contribute. She loved sitting in the watchtower, loved the peace and quiet of it all, but those calm days didn’t make for exciting storytelling. What was she supposed to say? I saw a bear yesterday? Or, hey, I called in that smoke you spent ten hours busting your ass to knock down—glad I could help?

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe for him to pounce or make some kind of reference to their late-night calls—but Cole Henry was a gentleman. He didn’t get in her space. Much. Sure, he brushed past her a time or two as she worked and his fingers touched hers when he handed her the frying pan or a spatula. He was all kinds of rumpled, sexy gorgeous, too. Just looking at him was the highlight of her day. She sighed. Maybe he was disappointed now that he’d got a good look at her. Or maybe he’d only been interested in phone sex. Or he had a girlfriend back at camp and she’d been a little side cheat that didn’t quite count—although something told her Cole Henry would never, ever cheat. He’d been blunt, earthy, and raw on those calls. If he was done with a woman, he’d tell her. Nicely, maybe even gently. But he’d walk.

Still, working beside him was enjoyable. They fell into an easy rhythm like they’d made dinner together a thousand times before. Again, that was something unexpected. Not surprising was his expertise with the coals. He knew exactly how to coax her fire pit to life and build up a hot bank of coals for her to cook on. He hummed, too. The low, slightly off-key thread

 of sound was nothing identifiable, but she definitely liked the smile tugging at his lips as he worked.

He was easy on the eyes, too. She wanted to peel off the Nomex low on his hips, push up the faded cotton T-shirt, and run her hands over the washboard abs underneath. And his wide shoulders definitely begged a gal to hang on. Yeah, she couldn’t even pretend she wasn’t checking him out, so she looked him over and let herself imagine all the places she could be kissing him. Like the strong, tanned column of his throat and—he reached for her bowl of burger fixings—down his back until she reached his delicious ass. Part of her definitely wanted to pop all his buttons and forget about dinner. Looking at him was even better than listening to him.

She’d had supplies packed in at the beginning of the week, so she was pleasantly stocked up and had fresh food to offer him. His hands expertly wielded a knife, chopping lettuce and tomato while she flipped their burgers in the cast iron over the fire. He was confident and sure as he went all Ginsu on the produce.

“You’re starin’,” he said, not turning around.

Yeah, well, this wasn’t the way she’d imagined her day ending. Not by a long shot. “Maybe you’re imagining things,” she countered.

“Don’ think so.” He finished on the lettuce and pulled a tomato over onto the board he’d balanced on her picnic table. One of the previous watches must have built the damned thing from scratch, because no way Park Service had packed it in. The table had definitely seen better days, but she liked the memories and love stories scratched into its weather-beaten surface.

He looked over at her and smiled. Slowly. “I always know when a pretty girl is watchin’ me.”

“Really?” Yeah, he was all hotshot. She was fairly certain the Forest Service passed out that brand of cocky confidence with the Nomex.

“Now you’re thinkin’ I’m overconfident.” He looked up from his handiwork and his slow grin set something on fire in her belly. God, he really was one hundred percent bad boy. Their radio exchanges should have been her first clue.

And they still hadn’t discussed where he was sleeping tonight.

“I like the way you look at me,” he continued.

“Really?” she drawled. Again. Yeah, she was winning all sorts of prizes

for conversational brilliance tonight.

 “And you should know I’m lookin’ at you.” He winked and went back to chopping.

Well, then. There was that.

She finished her burger handiwork and transferred the patties to the plates. Her melamine was all pretty Target ware, blue with white swirls. The little pretend flowers were like nothing she’d ever seen in nature, but it didn’t matter. Sometimes, pretty was enough.

“Bon appétit,” he said, his Cajun accent growing more noticeable. Maybe he spoke French at home. Or in bed. Hastily, she shoved that thought aside. This was dinner, not foreplay. She didn’t even know how far she wanted to take this evening, just that, since he was here, getting to know him better seemed like a good idea.

“Where are you from?” She didn’t know if the question was rude or not, but learning more about Cole was tempting. He was more than a sexy voice and a hot fantasy now, and that was his fault for showing up uninvited.

“The accent? My maman is from the Louisiana bayou. That’s where I grew up.”

“And now you’re out here, working with the Big Bear Rogues.”

He shrugged, assembling his burger on his plate. “I go home in the off- season. I have a place out on the bayou.”

“Like actually out out on the bayou?”

“Sure.” He took a big bite of his burger, chewed, and swallowed thoughtfully. “But it’s not all Okefenokee Swamp, if that’s what you’re imaginin’. I do lots of huntin’ and fishin’ and my houseboat isn’t anythin’ fancy, but it’s mine. When the day comes I can’t swing a Pulaski, I’ve got the place waitin’ for me. How about you?”

“Me?” She poked at her burger.

“Yeah. Where do you go when you’re not busy being Rapunzel in her tower?”

“Davis.” She could feel him looking at her and she loved the way he gave her his undivided attention. “University of California. I’m in the vet school there.”

“Wow.” He stretched his legs out toward the fire. “So you like animals. And hard work.”

“I don’t know about liking it.” She grinned. “But I want to be a vet, so I’ve got to do the coursework.”

“It must be a real change of pace, coming out here.”

 “I love it.” Had he leaned in a little closer? She could feel the heat coming off his body now. “Sometimes, things get a little too loud and busy. Davis isn’t exactly a metropolitan hot spot, but I like to get away and be alone.”

He nodded. “I hear you on the space.” A shadow passed over his eyes and she wondered what he was remembering. Given the way his fingers stroked the old dog tags hanging around his neck, she had a good guess.

“I don’ care for bein’ inside,” he admitted. “Give me the outdoors any day. Who wants an office with four walls and a door when there’s all this? Plus, there are definitely plenty of animals out here,” he teased. “For you to practice on.”

“Good thing I’ve got a large animal specialty.” She grinned back at him.

He shifted and now he was definitely closer. His hip pressed against hers, his legs stretched out close enough to touch.

“This could be our first date.” His words were a slow, smoky drawl.

Lost in his accent, it took her a moment to process what he’d just said. “Wow. No pressure.”

“Not what you imagined?”

She shrugged. “I like veggie burgers just fine. You—”

“Oui?” He took a final bite of his burger, setting the empty plate down

on the ground beside his feet, and no man had any right to look so damned sexy.

“I had you pegged for a steak and potatoes guy.”

“Sure.” He swallowed and grinned at her. “But you made this for me. I’m givin’ you points for effort.”

She was nervous.

He didn’t blame her. They’d had themselves some scorching-hot conversations, but she’d never expected him to actually show up on her doorstep. Frankly, part of him was surprised she hadn’t run screaming.

And pleased.

Very, very pleased.

“So,” she said, playing with her food. She needed to eat, but he didn’t

know how to make her feel more comfortable with his being here. Sure, he could go, but he didn’t want to do that. Plus, he liked her feminine awareness of him. He wouldn’t trade that. “What did you do before you joined the Rogues?”

 He pointed to the dog tags he still wore. He should take them off, put them away, but they were a good reminder. “Military.”

“Marines?” He could hear the guess in her voice.

“Crash, Fire and Rescue,” he admitted. “We responded to air-crash emergencies. Drove the truck to the end of the runway and waited for distressed aircraft to come in. Sprayed a little foam. Hauled a little ass. I did two tours; then I got out.”

“Do you miss it?” She sounded more curious than politely interested. “Honestly? No.” Hell no.

“Bad memories.” She sounded like she understood. “Is it better out here?

In the park?” She waved a hand toward the forest surrounding them.

She understood. That was his first thought. His second was that she’d

said she also liked getting away. She definitely got it.

“Yeah,” he admitted gruffly. “That last tour didn’t end so well. A fighter

jet came in badly,” he said, surprising himself. He didn’t talk about what happened. Ever. “The pilot overshot the runway and crashed. My truck was in the way.”

The best part about the forest was the lack of fucking walls. He could go any direction he wanted, whenever he wanted. He went to the fire, not the other way round. He’d sat there at the end of the runway, smelling fuel and skin burning, trapped in that damned vehicle for six hours until the boys had managed to cut him free with the Jaws of Life. The scream of the jet fighters coming in overhead hadn’t been enough to drown out the moans of dying because, when that first plane had skidded off the runway and plowed into them, they’d been sitting ducks.

“You made it home.” Her fingers touched his arm. “I’m glad.”

“The other men in my truck weren’t so lucky.” He didn’t tell her more, because she didn’t need to hear those things. Bad enough he remembered them every day. How he’d sat there in the truck watching the plane slide closer and there was nothing he could do in that handful of seconds. He’d had his foot on the gas, but fifteen feet wasn’t enough with 19,000 pounds of metal and jet fuel barreling his way. Somehow, he’d made it out with just the burn marks down his rib cage and a flat, shiny spot where his dog tags had seared his skin. That wasn’t fair and he wasn’t even sure it was right. He’d been the driver. He should have gotten them all out of there.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her finger rubbed small circles on the inside of his forearm.

 “It’s not your fault.”

“No,” she agreed, “but—”

People always felt the need to say something. To apologize or explain

what had happened. He’d been there. He’d gone over the scene a million times in his head, trying to figure out a better outcome. He’d failed; there was no way anyone else could fix it.

Somehow, though, her words helped. “I’m glad you’re out here, then. Where you feel better,” she said.

Him, too.

She made him feel better.

After his conversational downer, they sat in silence while she finished

eating. When she was done, he followed her over to the cistern on the edge of her clearing. As long as it rained during the year, she’d have a steady supply of water during summer months. He passed her the plates. She soaped and rinsed, falling into a quiet, easy rhythm, but it wasn’t like they’d had a three-course banquet. The chore was finished quickly.

“So.” She chewed on her lower lip. She was working up to something, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what. Here he was. It was dark. They were alone and he was going to have to sleep somewhere. He’d brought a tent and he should probably tell her that.

“Let’s sit by the fire for a while,” he suggested, and she latched on to the suggestion like it was a lifeline. Definitely nervous.

She hightailed back to the logs set around the fire pit and sat down, her back straight. “You coming?”

“Sure,” he said. “But, Hannah . . .”

“Yeah?” She tilted her head to look at him as he sat down beside her.

“I don’ bite,” he promised.

“Hell.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve never done this before.” She

moistened her lower lip with her tongue.

“Had sex with a stranger?” He slid an arm around her shoulder and

pulled her close. She melted into his side, so that upright posture of hers must have been even more uncomfortable than it looked. Her head hit his chest, bounced up. She was looking at him again and he had no idea what she saw.

He had. Had sex with strangers, that is. He’d been careful and he was clean, but he’d gone home with more than one unfamiliar face. That had never bothered him before. He enjoyed himself. He made damned sure his

 partner enjoyed herself. As long as his date for the night had been over eighteen, he’d figured no harm, no foul.

This date was different.

This was Hannah he was holding. And she was talking again. He’d never met a woman who thought things through this much. Either she wanted to have sex with him or she didn’t, right? It didn’t have to be complicated.

“Yes. No,” she said. “I don’t feel like we’re strangers.”

“Good.” He tunneled his fingers into the hair at the back of her neck. Christ, she was tense. He rubbed and she purred. To his surprise, just doing that all night would have been enough.

“I have a tent,” he said. Had she fallen asleep? He looked down, but her eyes were open, staring at the dying flames in the fire pit. She was still with him. “I don’ have to sleep anywhere else tonight.”

“You don’t have to sleep outside.” She looked up at him and the desire in her eyes woke his erection right back up. “Not unless you want to.”