He glanced over her body. She was dressed in simple black leggings and an oversized T-shirt.
His T-shirt. His heart rolled.
“That’s the best my shirt’s ever looked.” Unable to hold back another minute, he yanked her into his arms, and she didn’t even do that stiffening thing. She dropped her cheek to his chest. His heart flexed as he raised a hand to cup her head. They stood unmoving for long seconds.
When his stomach loudly announced he hadn’t had dinner, she giggled and pulled away. “You need food.”
“So do you, beautiful. After all those orgasms, you need to replenish.”
A flush crept over her lovely face, and her eyes shined as she looked up at him. Maybe her walls weren’t as hard to scale as he’d originally believed.
“Do you like Chinese food? We can get takeout,” she said.
“From the place on the corner?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the same place I order from. I love their chicken in garlic sauce.” They said the last together, and a cocky smile spread over his face. She might try to run from him, but they had things in common to explore. They were from the same ‘hood, had the same taste in food, and had actually come at the same moment. None of these things equaled true love, but they weren’t finished.
“I’ll order,” she said. As she sashayed from the room, his balls clenched with want. All those sweet curves tucked into a feisty package.
While she ordered takeout, Jagger went into the bathroom, found a paper cup, and filled it with water. He carried it back to her window, where a sole violet plant rested on the sill, soaking up what sunlight it could with the building opposite blocking the rays.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He shot her a crooked smile. “That yard work you paid for.” He made a show of plucking off a dead leaf and then watering the plant. “There. Money well-spent.”
She burst out laughing, a throaty, breathless noise that raised the hairs on his body and awakened his cock from the ten-minute rest it had gotten. “Glad to help out. What kind of building project does the firehouse need funded?”
“Parts of the building are unsafe and aren’t up to code.”
She lifted a brow at that, and the sight of her standing mere feet from the rumpled bed they’d just crawled out of gave him an insta-boner.
“How can a city building not be up to code?”
“Exactly, yet I did some research and found several firehouses are actually condemned, though they’re still in use.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Yeah. East Street isn’t so bad off, but it will be in a year without the money to make these fixes. So from the bottom of our hearts, East Street Fire Company thanks you for your donation.” He held his hand over his heart and bowed at the waist. The tinkling music of her laugh hit his system like a spark to dry tinder. He straightened. Dropped his hands to his sides and took a step toward her.
That nervous look passed over her features again. When he reached for her, she whirled away. “Let’s see what’s on Netflix.”
“I hear among the teen set, if you say you’re going to watch Netflix and chill, it means you’re having sex.”
“We’ve already done that.”
He followed her through her sparse apartment, wondering if she’d help him organize his own. Hell, he had far more junk than she did. All those unpacked boxes were becoming more daunting as time passed. But he had a feeling Hanna wasn’t one of those women who liked organizing and fussing over details.
She plopped onto her apartment-sized sofa and tucked her legs beneath her.
He stared down at the top of her head, that tight feeling trapped in his chest again. “I know what you’re doing, Hanna.”
“What’s that?” Her big eyes were fringed with the darkest of lashes. All of a sudden images of those lashes lowering as he sucked rum off her body flooded his head.
“Every time I try to get close to you, you change the subject or walk away from me. We’re not nearly finished, Hanna.” Before she could protest, he sat beside her and tugged her against his side.
She wasn’t exactly relaxed, but she wasn’t clawing to get away from him either. A good sign. She reached for the remote and switched on the TV. Five minutes later they’d agreed to a series they both had on their watch lists.
He couldn’t focus on the characters, though. Hanna was distracting as hell. Wearing his shirt, for fuck’s sake. She’d kept it. Had worn it. It smelled like fresh laundry soap, and he tugged her closer just so he could bury his nose against her neck. She unraveled her legs and scooted across the cushion to sit in the crook of his arm.
Damn, this felt good. Too good. For many months he’d avoided women, determined to reach his goals. He shouldn’t be messing with her now. If there was one thing he’d learned from being a firefighter, it was that his hold on life was tenuous. In a blink he could be wiped out in a fire. Many of the guys in his profession never allowed themselves to get close to love for this reason.
In total contrast to his thought pattern, Hanna’s reluctance to do relationships was driving him crazy. The need she raised in him was so out of control, it was like trying to douse a five-alarm fire with a drinking straw. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough of her.
Dipping his lips to her ear, he crooned, “We have some time before the Chinese arrives.”
Her breath hitched. “H-how do you know?”
He took her earlobe between his teeth and worried it gently back and forth. “They’re always ten minutes later than they tell you. That means we have time.”
Twisting, she met his gaze. “Time for what?”
“Truth or dare?”
A short laugh escaped her. Hell, he was starting to like this far too much. If he wasn’t so enamored with her, he’d get up and run before she wiggled any deeper into his psyche. Around her, he felt like a kid again—inexperienced. Suddenly, the nickname new recruit fit.
“I haven’t played truth or dare since I was a kid.”
“You’re past due for a game, then. I’ll go first. Truth or dare. Tell me why you only want one-night stands.”
She bounced out of his arms and crowded into the other corner of the couch. Arms folded, her face masked. For a heartbeat he believed he’d really fucked up with her, but she lifted her chin a notch and shot out, “What’s the dare?”
“You have to take off your pants.”
Without giving the idea a second of thought, she shot to her feet and shimmied the leggings down her curvy thighs. She kicked off the fabric and sat again, her legs demurely crossed.
He followed the lines of her thighs to delicate ankles and bare feet with red painted toes. He wasn’t surprised she had chosen the dare rather than telling him the truth about her life choice—or past trauma in this case.
“My turn. Why did you become a firefighter?”
“That’s easy. I like the rush.”
“You’re not that firefighter who loves the game so much that he starts fires all around the city just so he can put them out, are you?”
“Fuck no. Just for that, you’re getting tickled.” He captured her foot and stroked her curled toes. She squirmed and kicked at him with the other foot, which he also trapped. With both feet in his hands, she was at his mercy. He could easily tug her flat on her back, lift her legs, and bury his tongue in her pussy.
He bit off a groan. He couldn’t get enough of her sweetness.
“Stop before I kick you in the face,” she cried. He did stop but held her feet prisoner while staring into her eyes. Happy glints lived there. He wouldn’t believe she didn’t enjoy their time together.
“Your turn,” she said throatily.
“Truth or dare. Have you ever slept with a guy who’s done body shots off you before?”
“No.”
Good answer but too easy. He wanted the dare so he could get her panties off. During their tickle battle, he’d seen a flash of red cloth covering her snatch and matching her toenails. God, what he wouldn’t do to dampen that fabric with his tongue until he could taste her juices through it. Then press it aside and plunge into her core.
He wet his lips, and she tracked the movement. Swallowing hard, she said, “Truth or dare—have you ever made a mistake on the job that’s caused someone else harm?”
He stared into her—through her. “Dare.”
She blinked but hardly missed a beat. She opened her mouth to tell him the dare. At that moment the door buzzed and she leaped off the couch, giving him a tantalizing view of her backside where his long T-shirt was caught on the roundness. As she twitched her way to the door, the shirt floated down around her upper thighs.
Too late he realized she was answering the door in this state. The delivery kid’s eyes were as wide as plates by the time Jagger got to the door with a bill in hand. He thrust the money at the kid, took the Chinese out of his hands, and closed the door in his face.
Hanna’s jaw dropped. “That was rude.”
“He was staring at you. Do you answer the door in only a shirt and panties all the time?”
“I’ll take the dare, thank you.” She sat on the floor in front of the old trunk coffee table and Jagger set the takeout bags there before joining her. She crossed her legs, giving him a full, tormenting view of her puffy pussy lips pressed against the red panties.
His cock swelled to full length. “You didn’t give me my dare.”
“Okay, I dare you to use the chopsticks instead of the plastic fork.”
With a grin, he picked them up and spent two minutes trying to keep from dropping them. “Oh all right, I admit I’m crappy with chopsticks.” He used one to spear some garlic chicken and shoved it into his mouth.
Her smile spread as she chewed her own bite. Once she’d swallowed, she said, “That means I win. You lost the dare.”
“Uh-uh. There is no win or lose in truth or dare. You keep going.”
That wary expression was back in her dark brown eyes. “Not when you’re asking me questions I don’t want to answer.”
He sobered and held her gaze. “Why don’t you date, Hanna?”
She shrugged as if her shirt was too tight in the shoulders, but since it was his shirt, it hung on her. “I have no time for relationships.”
“Because you’re busy doing…”
“I work at a nonprofit.”
“Doesn’t sound like a job that demands a lot of hours.”
“No, but I stay busy doing other things.”
“Like bungee jumping and lying on bars letting strangers lick rum off you.”
“Exactly.”
“What if…” he bit off a chunk of egg roll and continued with his mouth full, “what you’re really seeking is the thrill of a relationship?”
Damn. She had that cornered look on her face. She set her carton of food aside. “That isn’t the case. I’m happy with keeping my life and men separate.”
“That’s why you let me stay longer than you were probably comfortable with and ordered us dinner.” Before she could answer, his cell blared a ring tone that raised the hairs on his forearms. “Dammit.”
“A fire?”
“Yes. I’ve gotta run, beautiful. But you’ll keep this Chinese in the fridge for me, right? I’m coming back for an early-morning snack.” He scrambled to his feet and dropped a kiss to her brow. Then he strode into the bedroom and threw on his shoes.
When he returned, she sat in the same place, not eating, wearing a strained look.
“I’m sorry to run, Hanna. But it’s a big one.” His mind zeroed in on his duty, and he ran through a mental checklist.
By the time he focused on Hanna again, it was too late—the ice in her stare locked him out. Dammit, he probably should have ignored the call, but that wasn’t in him. He was born to rescue people. “I’ll be back, beautiful. I promise.”
She didn’t respond as he closed the door.
∙•∙
Hanna stared blankly at the TV program they’d been pretending to watch. It was crazy for her to feel abandoned. Jagger was going to work.
Yet she was jealous, and she hated her reasons for even feeling this way. Her ex, Dominic, had done this to her. He’d always put work first, standing her up at the movies then texting her to apologize. How many times had she sat waiting alone at a restaurant? Not to mention the time she’d times he’d gotten calls and left hastily.
Just as Jagger had.
Men who were married to their jobs were not for her, and Jagger clearly was.
She hadn’t been important enough to Dominic for him to put her first. That man had worked 24/7, and when Jagger’s phone had trilled with the fire whistle ring tone, his whole demeanor had changed.
She wasn’t blind—she knew how it looked when a man forgot her. His total passion for his work had ruled.
He’s saving people. I have no right to feel jealous.
Yet she couldn’t shake the feelings ingrained in her. Dominic hadn’t only been married to his job—he’d been cheating. Now his betrayal was all tangled up with his late hours and the times he’d stood her up.
Silly, yes, but she couldn’t separate any of it in her mind. She’d tried at first, but six months after she’d broken things off with Dominic, she’d had a similar experience with another guy. Was it so wrong to want to be shown she was important to someone?
Jagger might be different
, an inner voice said.
People are in trouble. Property is being destroyed. East Street needs him more than I do.
She felt dumb for letting him crack her impenetrable wall, though. Between their wild sex and her strangely comfortable feeling with him, she’d let down her guard. Add his playful game of truth and dare, the tickling episode, and the adorable way he’d responded to her answering the door without pants, and she’d let herself believe this relationship
could
be different.
But it wasn’t. Even if Jagger wasn’t a workaholic like Dominic was, he was devoted to his job. And he should be. If she were in trouble, she hoped some rescuer would be as dedicated as Jagger.
Pushing out a sigh, she got to her feet and gathered all the Chinese into her arms. Neither of them had eaten much, so she packaged it back in the cute takeout boxes and put them into the refrigerator.
Now what to do with herself? She needed to keep her mind off the sexy hunk of man. But her body felt deliciously used, and she could still taste him on her lips. He’d promised her an early-morning snack, which meant he intended to return.