Red Hot Page 9

  She turned around and opened the coat, dropping it to reveal tantalizing bits of red lace. The woman was red-hot. And Wyatt had never been able to stay away from the heat. She was the one who’d started this game—of playing with fire. She was trying to manipulate him, just as he’d worried she would. So maybe she deserved a little payback.

  He grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. Dangling down his back, she squealed with surprise. His hand covered her ass—her sweet, soft ass—to stop her from wriggling down as he carried her through his bedroom to the bathroom.

  He opened the glass door of the shower and carried her inside with him. Keeping her away from the spray, he turned on the faucet. At the initial shock of cold water, he lost his breath on a gasp. But then the water warmed.

  So he released her to slide down his front. Impatient that he couldn’t feel her, he dragged off his clothes and tossed them over the glass doors.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Taking a shower.”

  “I didn’t need to take one, too,” she said.

  She’d been wearing makeup and had curled her hair. She’d looked beautiful then, but she looked more beautiful now. The water had washed away the mascara and makeup, leaving her face bare. Those scraps of lace were transparent now that they were wet. He discarded them as quickly as he had his clothes.

  “Oh, you’re dirty,” he told her, “showing up at my door dressed like you were—or undressed like you were.”

  Her annoyance vanished with a smile—it was both seductive and somehow shy, too. That jackass Howard had shaken her confidence a little, and Wyatt probably hadn’t helped with not calling her. So he intended to show her just how desirable she was.

  He leaned down and kissed her—claiming her with his mouth and his tongue. Her lips moved beneath his, parting on a sigh and then a moan. She let him inside and then she teased him with the tip of her wet little tongue.

  He groaned. And his already tortured body tensed more. He had to have her. Now. So with the water sluicing over them, he lifted her again. But this time he didn’t throw her over his shoulder. He only held her as high as his waist, so that the end of his cock could nudge between her legs.

  Raised as she was, he could reach her breasts with his mouth. He teased each nipple with the tip of his tongue before nipping it lightly with his teeth. She moaned as he continued to tease her—with his mouth and with the tip of his cock rubbing against her clit. Back and forth. Back and forth…

  His cock throbbed and pulsed, desperate to plunge inside her. But he held back. He wanted to please her first. He wanted to drive her as crazy as she drove him.

  Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. Her heart beat hard; he could feel it pounding beneath the silky sleek skin of her breast. She was close. He wanted to push her over the edge.

  He tugged her nipple with his teeth, pulling on the already distended point. She arched her back, pushing her nipple farther into his mouth—wriggling in his arms. He tightened his grip on her sweet ass, his hands caressing and squeezing the soft curves. Then he moved his fingers between her legs. He stroked her, back and forth, before plunging two fingers inside.

  She cried out with pleasure, and her body trembled in his arms. She was slick when his cock slid inside her. Wet and ready for him.

  She wrapped her legs and arms around him, meeting his thrusts. She slid up and down, riding him. The shower filled with steam. He wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the water or her. She was so damn hot. So wet.

  Her passion scorched him with its intensity and incited his own. The tension inside him was nearly unbearable. But he held back—wanting to please her so much that she wouldn’t slip away as she had last time. When he was done, he wanted her to feel too boneless to move.

  The tension had to be building in her, too, because she whimpered and bit her lip. Then she writhed against him. She arched and shifted, taking him deeper with each thrust. And finally she came with a loud cry.

  Despite the tension racking him, making his muscles tremble, he held on to his release. And holding on to her, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. He nearly slipped as his bare feet hit the tiled bathroom floor.

  She squealed and clutched at him. But he stayed inside her as he carried her into the bedroom. Then finally he pulled free and laid her on the flannel comforter.

  “We’re going to get everything all wet,” she protested.

  “That’s the idea,” he said. And because he had to taste her, he parted her legs and moved his mouth to her core. He slid his tongue over her clit. Her nails scraped his skin as she clutched at his shoulders.

  “Wyatt…”

  It wasn’t a protest. She was nearly ready to come again. But he only teased her with the tip of his tongue. Only tasted her sweet passion…

  Then he pulled back, grabbed a condom from the bedside table and sheathed his cock. She reached up for him, pulling him down for a kiss that was all tongue. He groaned. But then she pushed him back, her palms flat against his chest.

  Was she only teasing him? Wasn’t she going to let him find his release?

  He might lose his mind if she didn’t. But she only repositioned on his bed, rising up on her knees and turning her ass—that sweet ass that he found so damn irresistible—toward him.

  “Damn, woman…” he murmured.

  She was so seductive, so beautiful. She’d literally brought him to his knees. He rose on them and leaned over her. Then he slid inside her—into the heat and wetness that enveloped him.

  He thrust hard and deep—going so far inside that he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. They moved as one. He thrust and she pushed her hips back, matching his every move. Then he reached beneath her, first caressing her breasts before sliding his hand lower to tease her clit.

  She screamed as she came. And after a couple more deep strokes, the tension finally broke and he came—echoing her cry of pleasure. He collapsed onto his side, pulling her down next to him, their bodies still connected. His arms tightened around her.

  “I’m not letting you go,” he said.

  She tensed. And so did he as he heard the words he’d spoken. He wasn’t talking about forever. Eventually he would let her go. He would have to—because she was too dangerous, too manipulative. He couldn’t risk falling for a woman like her. He couldn’t…

  10

  “YOU LOOK HAPPY,” her mother remarked. “Have you met someone?”

  Of course Mandy Hamilton would think the only thing that could make Fiona happy was a man. But that wasn’t the case. Her euphoric mood had nothing to do with Wyatt.

  Not really…

  But she raised her menu so her mother wouldn’t see her face and the telltale blush she felt heating her skin. Fortunately, she’d met her at a pretty nice restaurant, so the menus were big. There were tablecloths, too, draped almost to the hardwood floor. Fiona wished she could crawl under that, as well, but then her mother would know something was going on with her.

  “Why would you automatically think it has to be a man making me happy?” Fiona asked. “Why couldn’t it be my job? Or my friends?”

  Her mother uttered a tired sigh.

  And Fiona lowered the menu to see weariness etched in her mother’s face. Her usually smooth skin was pulled tight around her mouth and her brow was furrowed.

  Reaching for her wineglass with a trembling hand, Mandy said, “I’m not trying to offend you.”

  But it usually happened when they got together, as they had today for lunch. Fiona had tried to get out of it by saying she’d had an appointment. But that damn Rita had already told Mandy Fiona’s afternoon was open before she’d transferred her.

  Matthew obviously harbored resentment over Fiona leaving him when they were kids. Maybe Fiona harbored resentment of her own—that her mother hadn’t fought harder to keep her. Of course, her grandparents had had more money for that fight—for their lawyer and maybe even for the judge. T
hey had thought what they were doing was right. They still thought that. And because Fiona loved them, she had put her resentment of them aside. She didn’t visit them as often as they liked, though. Since she’d put aside her resentment of them, she needed to do the same with her mother.

  “I know, Mom,” she said. And she reached across the table to squeeze her mother’s hand. It was small and callused. After her second husband had died, she’d had to take on another job—cleaning hotel rooms when she wasn’t working the front desk. As an explanation and to make her mother happy, too, she shared, “I think I may be getting through to Matthew.”

  Her mother’s brow furrowed more. “About?”

  “I may be able to get him to go back to college and forget about this whole firefighter thing.” Surely Wyatt would help her convince her brother. The way he made love to her, the way he held her afterward…

  And not just that day she’d gone to his house wearing nothing but a coat and lace. They’d slept together every day since for the past week. Of course, they actually did very little sleeping. He came to her house, too. Unfortunately, he wore more than a coat. But it didn’t matter; she undressed him quickly.

  She was getting to him. He craved her as much as she craved him—his kiss, his touch, the way he filled her, the mind-blowing pleasure he gave her…

  That was probably what her mother had noticed. That she was satiated. Mandy’s mistake hadn’t been feeling attracted to men who sought danger. Her mistake had been in falling for them. Fiona was wiser than her mother. Or maybe thanks to her mother, she was wiser. She wouldn’t make the mistake of falling for Wyatt Andrews.

  She was only using him.

  Mandy smiled. “Matt wants to become a firefighter like that friend of his? His big brother—Wyatt.”

  “Wyatt isn’t his big brother,” Fiona snapped. Because that would make everything creepy and weird. “He’s his mentor.” And soon he would be mentoring him to return to college.

  “There’s a good-looking man,” Mandy remarked with a lustful sigh.

  That was creepy and weird, too—that she was attracted to the same man her mother was. She reached an unsteady hand for her water glass and regretted that she never ordered wine with lunch.

  “I didn’t realize your brother wanted to become a firefighter,” Mandy continued.

  Fiona had been preoccupied with worry that she had a bad relationship with her brother. She hadn’t realized that the relationship between mother and son was strained, too. “Don’t you talk to him?”

  Mandy shook her head. “He only comes around to get his mail occasionally.”

  “Then where’s he been staying?” Fiona asked.

  “At school.”

  “Mom, he left school.”

  Mandy shrugged. “He may have left school, but he must still have the lease for his apartment. Or maybe he’s been crashing with friends.”

  “You don’t even know where he’s living?” This was why her grandparents shouldn’t have taken her away. She had always been more of a mother to her younger sibling than their actual mother had been.

  “He’s an adult, Fiona,” Mandy said defensively. But in whose defense? Matthew’s or her own? She was just as sensitive to Fiona’s remarks as Fiona was to hers. She had probably taken her comment as a criticism, and rightfully so. “He can make his own decisions. I was his age when I married your father.”

  Fiona snorted. “You just made my point for me. He’s too young to be making such serious decisions. And so were you.”

  “I was in love,” Mandy said. And there was no defense now. Only sadness and loss haunting her blue eyes. “When I first saw you walk into the restaurant today, I thought maybe you would finally understand that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought that was why you looked so happy…” She held up a hand to ward off an interruption Fiona hadn’t even been about to make. “I know your job makes you happy. And your friends make you happy. But that kind of happiness is different.”

  “What kind?” Sexual satisfaction? Because then she was deliriously happy.

  “Love,” Mandy said with a wistful sigh. “Nothing makes you happier than being in love.”

  Fiona’s pulse quickened to a frantic pace, and she was the defensive one now. “I’m not!” She forced herself to draw a breath and relax. “I’m not in love.”

  “That’s too bad,” Mandy said. “You really don’t know what you’re missing.”

  “How can you say that?” Fiona asked. “You buried two husbands. Doesn’t that prove to you that falling in love is too risky?”

  Mandy waved her hand again—this time in dismissal. “Everything we do in life has some sort of risk to it. We shouldn’t be afraid to live—or to love—because we might get hurt.”

  Fiona couldn’t see it as her mother did. She saw only the bereaved young widow who’d cried hysterically beside two graves. And she saw now the woman who, albeit still beautiful, looked older than her years. She was tired and broken; that was what love had done to her.

  No, that wasn’t a risk Fiona was willing to take.

  *

  “YOU LOOK MISERABLE,” Wyatt said as he stepped inside his boss’s office to find the man bowed over his desk. The fire Braden had predicted weeks ago had yet to happen…

  Unless Braden had sensed a certain redhead coming into Wyatt’s life to burn up his sheets. Then it had happened. And Wyatt couldn’t wait for it to happen again.

  Braden glanced up from his desk. His eyes were so bloodshot that Wyatt might have thought he’d been crying if not for the bottle of bourbon sitting at his elbow. Drinking on the job? Some previous Hotshots members had tried it—to deal with the danger and the difficulty of the job and with their marriages falling apart back home. But he had never seen the Huron Hotshots team superintendent in such a condition before—not even when he had first shared that he was getting a divorce.

  Not wanting anyone else to see the boss in this condition, Wyatt shut the door behind himself. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Braden tossed an envelope across his desk. Wyatt caught it and pulled the invitation from it. He read the card in disbelief.

  “What the hell?”

  “She’s getting married again.”

  “I know,” Wyatt said. “I read the card. But why the hell did you get an invitation?”

  Ami’s flowery penmanship had spelled out Braden Zimmer on the envelope. He hadn’t received it in error.

  “They kindly request the honor of my presence.” Braden bitterly repeated what the card so callously asked. His hand shook as he reached for his glass.

  But Wyatt caught his wrist. “This isn’t the answer, you know.”

  “Your suggestion isn’t the answer, either,” Braden said. “Going out to find another woman…” He flicked the card Wyatt had dropped back onto his desk. It shot across the room. “Like she found another man. She had to have been seeing him while we were still together.”

  Wyatt sighed. “You know it happens. Hotshots are on the road a lot.” The danger—and the absences—were why so many of them were given the ultimatum. Give up the job or the marriage.

  “She never complained,” Braden said. “She never minded when I was gone.” He snorted. “Now I know why…”

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Why?” Braden asked. “You’re right. You’ve been right all along. Marriage and this job don’t mix.” He pushed a shaking hand through his hair. “Crazy part is that I thought we were good—until she told me she was leaving. She said it was nothing that I’d done. It was all her…”

  “She was right,” Wyatt said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I thought she would come back,” Braden admitted. “Even after I gave her the ultimatum, that if she left I wouldn’t take her back, I thought she would call my bluff. I thought she would come back.”

  Now Wyatt understood the devastation. Until that invitation had arrived, Braden had been harboring hope for a reconcilia
tion and love for his ex-wife. Now both were gone.

  He picked the invitation up from the floor. “When is this thing?” he asked.

  “I guess she debated whether or not to send out the invitation,” Braden said.

  She should have never sent it out at all. It was beyond insensitive; it was cruel.

  Braden continued, “Because I just got it and the wedding is next week.”

  “I’ll be your date,” Wyatt offered. And he’d plus one his fist into the groom’s cheating mouth.

  As if he’d read Wyatt’s mind, Braden laughed. “I don’t want to ruin her day.”

  “Why not?” He couldn’t still love her? Not after this?

  Braden sighed. “It’s not her fault that she wasn’t in love with me.” He pushed aside the glass and the bottle and repeated what he’d said earlier, “You’re right.”

  “Yeah, we should go tear up that reception. You take out the groom and I’ll kick the ass of the best man.”

  Braden laughed. “You’re crazy.”

  “You just said I was right,” Wyatt reminded him. How much had the man had to drink?

  “You’re right about women,” Braden said. “There’s no point in getting serious.”

  A chill of unease raced through Wyatt. He’d been with Fiona every night since she had showed up on his porch in just her coat and a couple of bits of lace. But they weren’t serious…

  “They break your heart and your spirit,” Braden continued, his voice gruff with bitterness. “Even when you think it’s real, it’s not…”

  Wyatt knew what he and Fiona had wasn’t real. It was just a game. Her playing him to get her way, and his playing along to get her.

  “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you out of here. Get you some coffee and food.” It wasn’t as if he had plans with Fiona. It was just that they usually wound up together. But not tonight.

  Tonight his friend needed him. He ignored the protest of his body that reminded him he needed Fiona, too. He needed to be inside her, part of her…

  Braden shook his head. “I’m fine.”