Blazing Hot: Californian Wildfire Fighters Book Two Read online

  Alex didn't protest. She didn't even try to pull the covers up over them. His body burned like a furnace beside hers, keeping her warm as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Landon

  He passed every night of the next week in Alex's arms.

  So why did it feel like his angel still kept him at arm's length?

  The sex was heavenly. It was out of this world. Every time she invited him into bed with her, Landon felt like he grew wings of his own. For a woman who claimed to have gone through an extended dry spell, she sure knew how to work him. Landon let her take anything and everything she wanted from him; he always came down from the high feeling like it was time deliciously spent.

  But regular sex with Alex didn't make living together any easier. They were learning how to cooperate both inside and outside of the bedroom, but they still differed on one incredibly important opinion: namely, where and when it would be all right for Landon to return to work.

  "It's too soon." She stared him down over her dinner plate. She had barely touched the meal he had spent the past two hours cooking, and Landon wondered if she was on to him. His mother had always told him most arguments could be solved over a good meal, and he had taken that advice to heart in an attempt to sway Alex to his side.

  "It's not too soon." True, he didn't share her medical background, but Landon still felt certain he knew his body better than the woman who insisted on working it into a fevered sweat night and day. "Hank's been calling me. Some of the new volunteers aren't cutting it. He wants to know when I can return to the fire. I told him my shoulder's good, but there's still the matter of the evaluation—"

  "It's too soon," Alex repeated stubbornly. "And I'm basing my opinion on your injuries, Landon."

  "No. You're not." He surprised himself by arguing the point. "There's something else, Alex. I've sensed it all along, even when you were taking care of me back at the hospital. So what is it?"

  "It's nothing outside of what I just told you."

  "Bullshit." He met her eyes. "You're holding me back. I don't know why. But maybe it's time I make one thing clear: Fighting fires is my job, but it isn't something I just do for a paycheck. I volunteered to come down here."

  "I get that, Landon. I do. And . . . I know I don't have any right to be so insistent. I'm sorry."

  Landon blinked. He sat back in his chair. "Are you worried about me?" he pressed cautiously. "Is that what this is all about? You being worried I'll get injured again?"

  "I have to go to work." Alex rose abruptly.

  Landon caught her arm before she could escape. He kept his pressure gentle but firm. He didn't want her getting out of this conversation so easily. It was his life, his career, on the line. What's more, he suspected his very sanity might hang in the balance. If he wasn't out there making himself available for those who needed him . . .

  "Do you really?" he asked her.

  "One of my few paid shifts," she said grimly.

  He believed her. He let his hand slip from her arm. "I'll pack your dinner up for you." He rose also. Guess it's dinner with Raphael again tonight.

  "That won't be necessary."

  "You're not eating out of the vending machine anymore," he said. "Not while I'm around."

  Alex spun on her way out. "What? Who told you that I—?"

  "Cherise told me. Dyna confirmed it. Both of them say you're a fan of the strawberry toaster strudels." Landon crossed his bandaged arms and leaned against the sink. "Not exactly a balanced meal."

  Alex bestowed him with a tired, crooked smile. "Well, I didn't have you around before, did I?"

  He held onto those words for a long time. Half an hour after she'd gone, once he’d assured himself she wasn't going to come back and surprise him, Landon made his way into her bedroom.

  "Don't look at me like that," he muttered to Raphael as he nudged open Alex's door. "Not like I'm not in here every night anyway."

  But he couldn't shake the guilty conscience that hung off his shoulders like a lead shroud. He knew what he was about to do was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself now. He had to get to the bottom of what was going on with Alex. He had to break through the last of the emotional barriers she had erected. If he didn't, it wouldn't be just his career on the line, but their blossoming relationship. He wanted them to succeed.

  So he opened her closet and pulled out the cardboard box he had seen stowed there. Scrawled across one side in a hasty hand that he recognized from hospital forms was one name: Henry.

  Raphael wound around his legs, purring, as he knelt down to sift through the contents. He would just skim a few items off the top, he told himself. A few photos.

  "Handsome fella," he told Raphael. He wasn't surprised at the revelation, of course. Henry's picture could still be found almost everywhere around the house, although he'd noticed in recent days that several of the framed photographs had gone missing. He was unsurprised to find them now at the top of the box's secreted stash.

  His fingers grazed something cool and metallic. He pulled the object out and found that it wasn't just some token, but a medal. He let the short ribbon run over his fingers reverently as he turned it around in the light. "I recognize this," he mentioned to the circling cat. "This is awarded to police officers when—"

  His throat closed over the words. He set the medal back where he’d found it and pulled out a newspaper clipping. He stared into the grainy face of Henry, seeing the headline. His eyes caught on a series of smaller words below.

  Killed in the line of duty. Survived by his wife.

  Landon sat down, leaning his back against the bed, and buried his face in his hands. Images of Pete flashed before his eyes: his friend laughing, his friend grinning that damn goofy grin he’d had for one summer only when his tooth got knocked out skateboarding, his friend reaching for him as the flood wall raced toward them . . .

  Henry was dead, and Pete was long dead. Still, their ghosts lived on and only seemed to gain power over those living, until their memories morphed into an unshakeable stranglehold. Who was he to help Alex get over her dead husband when he had never really let go of the tragedy of that summer? He would be a hypocrite of the highest order.

  But he had to try something. If he couldn't break them both out of this miserable routine of anguish and heartbreak, then maybe he could break her out. She thought she was saving him, but maybe she was the one who needed rescuing.

  Landon replaced the box inside the closet, closed the door, and went back into the living room. He called Hank.

  "I'm coming in," he said.

  "Yeah? You been cleared for duty yet?"

  "I'm feelin' one hundred percent myself again, Chief, I'm telling you. Having Alex take care of me has done me wonders. My arm still aches sometimes, but my mobility is back. I'm going to take the exam with medical again."

  "I'll send Kingston over to help sweet talk some of the female medics," Hank said.

  "You really don't have to do that," Landon replied. "Besides, what would your sister say?"

  "Hell, it was Sook's idea. She brought it up days ago."

  Landon grinned. "Glad to know the family misses me."

  "We need you, brother. Now more than ever. Get your ass down to the station and let me know how it goes."

  "Will do.”

  Landon hung up and turned.

  Raphael stood in the doorway, round eyes glinting gold, his whiskers puckered in a frown. "Don't look at me like that," Landon repeated.

  Chapter 10

  Alex

  His arms were a scarred, angry red map. Try as she might, she couldn't picture them any other way. But they must have been whole once, completely unmarred. They would have been beautiful arms then . . .

  And they were beautiful arms now. Alex had seen her fair share of burns in her career, but never had she seen any that spoke to her the way Landon's did. On him, they were a tattoo—a signature—of a life she thought she could only barely comprehend . . . but one that, deep in her heart,
she thought she knew all too well. His arms were the arms of a man who didn't shy from danger.

  And she couldn't stop thinking about them.

  "Lex, are you listening to me?"

  Alex snapped back to the present—and to the rude realization that she was standing in Scott's office, once more being undressed in every way that wasn't literal. His eyes dragged down her length even as his nasty tongue wagged between his teeth, verbally lashing her over and over again. Her scrubs had never felt so tissue-thin.

  "So where the hell is that form you promised me?" he demanded. "Gabriella said that you said you already faxed it over to me, but hell if my fax machine has made a single peep this afternoon!'

  "Gabby must have been mistaken." Alex hated to throw Gabriella under the bus, but she knew the receptionist would forgive her for not calling Scott out on his own error. "What I told her was that I would get it faxed over to you by the end of the day."

  "I needed it three hours ago!" he retorted. "In what world is 'getting it to me by the end of the day' at all acceptable?"

  "I'm sorry, but if I had known the timeline was expedited—"

  "What kind of operation do you think I'm running around here? You think I'm at my leisure these days?"

  "No," Alex responded firmly, "but I had no idea you intended to discharge our patient early. In fact, the last several patients you’ve let go have been released without informing the relevant staff until the last minute. If we're going to stay ahead of this fire—"

  "You missed one of your check-ins this morning." Scott flipped the conversation so quickly on her that Alex was momentarily left mentally reeling. She watched as he pulled a clipboard off the stack piled on his desk and analyzed it. It was better than having his eyes on her curves, at least. "The same patient, if I'm not mistaken. He needed his vitals checked. Cherise had to do it. Did Cherise fill out the form, as well?"

  "Yes, I missed it," Alex said. "I'm sorry. I've already apologized to all parties involved, and Cherise has updated me on the patient's progress. The form is—"

  "At this point, I would prefer for Cherise to fill it out," Scott interrupted.

  Somehow she managed to keep her tone even. "I will let her know, and make sure she gets a blank copy."

  "I mean, what's with you?" Scott leaned back in his chair suddenly, chuckled derisively, and shook his head. His personality seemed to shift again, and the hair on Alex's neck rose. Their exchange had been semi-professional so far, but now, she could see the smug former frat boy in him once more rise to the surface. "I heard you're shacking up with one of the firemen. He keeping you busy all night long? Is that why you're so tired?"

  "Everyone is tired." Alex felt a howl rising in her to meet his disgusting accusation, one she knew she couldn't vent. "This fire is straining everyone to their limit."

  "Yeah? That guy straining you to your limit?"

  Alex turned to leave without a further word.

  Scott called after her: "You know what, Lex? Don't bother about the form. I think it's better you just head home. I bet there's no place else you'd rather be, right?"

  Go figure. These were paid hours. She stormed by Gabriella and snatched an entire stack of blank forms without a word. She fought the urge to vindictively run them through the shredder on her way out. Any revenge she thought she was taking on Scott would only negatively impact those coworkers she could actually stand. Instead, she dropped them on Cherise's desk with a note furthering her earlier apology.

  As soon as she got home, she called out, almost mutinously, for the man Scott had accused her of tangling with. "Landon?"

  The house was empty, silent as a tomb, save for Raphael's meow echoing to her from a distant, desolate room. Alex set her bag down and wandered into the kitchen.

  She had gotten used to him being there, she realized. She ran her hand over the clean stack of drying dishes. The kitchen sparkled. It had taken some growing pains to get here, but now Landon was proving an indispensable presence to have around the house. When he wasn't here, she felt his absence acutely. It was like a knife digging into her chest and carving the heart that resided there, the heart that had only just started to beat again . . .

  The front door opened, and she turned, abandoning the dishes as she headed for the kitchen's threshold.

  "Alex . . .?” Landon called out into the house. "You home?"

  She was on him before he could flip the light switch. The next time he said her name was in exclamation before she threw her arms around his neck and silenced him with a kiss. She heard his duffle bag drop as he pulled her to him. If he was still confused about why she had jumped him the minute he’d walked through the door, he wasn't about to argue.

  Her mouth roamed against his incessantly. Already, it felt like it had been too long since she had last tasted it. His hands moved up her back, hiking her shirt with them. Alex pulled on his neck to deepen the kiss, and he stumbled forward.

  They crashed through the foyer toward the wall, and Landon freed one of his hands from the tangle of her shirt at the last second to catch them both before they slammed into it. Alex took full advantage of the pause to strip her shirt all the way off; she pulled it over her head and flung it into the next room.

  They navigated between rooms, leaving a trail of hastily divested clothing in their wake. By the time she resurfaced from kissing his neck, it was to discover that they were both naked—and definitely not in either of their bedrooms.

  Landon thrust her up against the kitchen sink, his erection raging between her legs. Panting, Alex reached between them to take hold of it. She ran her fingers up and down its smooth, thick length. She thrilled at touching him, every opportunity she got.

  As she stroked him, she began to ease herself down from the sink. His body was a rock-hard, burning obstruction to doing so, but she shot a glance up at him through her eyelashes in an attempt to convey what she intended. She ran her tongue along her lips to make it even more obvious. When he shuddered, she lowered herself a few more inches to the ground.

  "No." Landon seized her shoulders and held her in place.

  Alex blinked in confusion. "No?"

  "I don't want you on your knees tonight. I want to see your face."

  Something about his request almost frightened her. The intimacy he hinted at . . . she didn't know if she could stand to be looked at now that he’d copped to his intention.

  When she tried to slide past him again, Landon took a firm hold of her hips and cemented her in place on the counter. Then, to her immense surprise, he lowered himself down, coming to rest between her parted knees.

  His tongue flicked, tasting, teasing, and Alex nearly fell backward into the sink. She grabbed onto the cupboards flanking the sink as Landon licked all along the outside of her flushing folds. When the tip of his tongue prodded her clit, Alex gave a muted shout. She tried to bring her knees together to keep them from trembling too obviously, but he held them at bay.

  "Let me taste you." He breathed the words against her oversensitized inner flesh. She moaned in minor protest—it had been her idea to go down on him, after all—but how could any woman in her right mind resist his offer? She let her head tip to one side and watched the crown of his head move between her legs. Her chest rose and fell unsteadily. She let out a string of quiet, escalating moans; within moments, her legs were shaking again.

  "Please," she begged him. She didn't want to come with his face between her thighs. She wanted to see his expression as much as he wanted to see hers.

  Landon glanced up, then rose obediently. By now his cock was a straining pillar. She doubted his own want could be comfortably ignored any longer, just from the look of it. "Need you," she added for good measure. She cupped his face in her hands to restrain him from descending again.

  "I need you, too." Landon's lips found hers, and Alex tasted herself in their kiss.

  She almost wished she was in the frame of mind to halt the proceedings then and there. There was too much emotion loaded in Landon's word
s—and in her own. Her body yearned for him now almost as much as her heart. There was no quenching the surge of affection that coursed through her, the intense wanting to possess what was right in front of her and all too available. His absence plagued her days, and his presence warmed her nights. She was in a constant state of flux, with or without him.

  And he was quickly becoming all she ever thought about.

  Her fears dissipated as Landon took her, right then and there, up against the kitchen sink. Alex cried out as he slipped his throbbing cock inside her, and Landon groaned as he leaned forward. He grabbed the knob of the kitchen sink and accidentally twisted; cold water splashed her lower back, but it wasn't nearly enough to douse the fire raging in her where their thrusting pelvises joined.

  She orgasmed, pinned upright against him. She cried out and clutched him for dear life, shaking through the crest and fall; she hooked her ankles around his surging hips, and her toes curled. She was already feeling dizzy in his arms by the time she realized he had spun her through the air and settled into a kitchen chair with her still astride him.

  Not enough. The revelation shook her more than her twitching, firing muscles. She needed more.

  She rocked in his lap as his hands settled on her waist. His fingers pushed and pulled, guiding her, steering her up and down and all around the slick, rigid length nestled inside her. A roll of her hips struck her clit against his pelvis bone, and Alex shuddered. Normally, after coming so hard the first time, she would have been totally spent . . . or at least would tell herself the time she’d allotted in her schedule to get herself off was up, and if she was unsatisfied, then it was too damn bad. Now, the hunger licked to life once more in her belly, a flame that couldn't be extinguished.

  It had been her enduring mistake to try, she realized. She could wall her heart off, but her body was still a living thing that demanded gratification.