Safe From the Fire (3 page)

Matt
was starting to worry that it might be Grace Mallow or no one.

It
was the dreams.
 
The fucking dreams were going to kill him.

Sometimes
he dreamed that they were making slow, gentle love, her soft, sexy body
unraveling under his patient touch.  Grace would gasp his name, fingers
threaded through his hair as Matt made her shudder with pleasure over and over
again with controlled hands and mouth and cock.  Those dreams were bad enough. 
Matt always woke hard and aching, reaching out for her, practically able to
taste her sweet wildflower scent on his tongue.  Then he’d spend the rest of
the day frustrated and irritable, cursing the universe for what he couldn’t
have.

It
was better than the alternative.

The
alternative was worse.  After a long shift, when he was physically and mentally
exhausted, or when his path had crossed Grace’s once, or if he were lucky,
twice, Matt’s guard was down, and then his subconscious really went to work. 
She’d come to him in nothing but those lace-up black leather boots she wore
sometimes, her violet hair tumbled around her, the locks playing peekaboo with
what in Matt’s mind had to be the sweetest candy nipples atop plump little
tits.  Then she’d turn around, showing off that creamy, rounded ass that was
driving Matt closer to insanity whenever she walked away.  In his dream, Grace
would bend over a chair or a table or the fucking car and arch her back,
spreading her legs in those sinful boots, showing off a sweet pink pussy that
Matt knew would be hot and wet and fit him like a glove.

Please,
Matt,
she’d beg,
Please fuck me.  I need you.

And
he would, hard and deep, winding her hair around his hand to pull her head back
so he could taste her throat, gripping her hips hard, slamming into her with
everything he had, forgetting to be careful, but it wouldn’t matter as he
reveled in the cries of pleasure she couldn’t hold back.  Sometimes he’d spank
her until she begged for release.  Sometimes he’d order her to her knees to
take him into his mouth and she’d eagerly comply.  She’d drive him higher and
higher, taking and giving pleasure, an explosive climax moments away.

And
then it would turn into a nightmare.

A
shadow would pass over Grace’s beautiful face, her brown eyes would fill with
fear and tears, and she’d beg him,
beg him
to stop.  And then he’d see
the bruises, the marks from his big, brutal hands on her soft flesh.  And he’d
wake with a cry, on the verge of climax, terrified and angry and swamped with
guilt.

He
didn’t need a shrink to tell him where the dreams came from – the memory of his
monster of a father was enough to keep him hyper-aware of his immense strength,
to keep his temper in check, and to keep his hands off of Grace Mallow.

Matt
fished for his wallet, keeping one eye on Grace.

The
dreams were pissing him off.

Grace’s
wariness around him was pissing him off.

Lately,
he was just feeling generally pissed off.

He’d
finally confided in his best friend, Rafael Santiago, a fellow firefighter.

“You’re
not your father, Matt,” Rafael said confidently, “You won’t even kill spiders. 
If you like her, ask her out.”

Matt
grumbled, uncertain.

Rafael
shook his head, “Who would have thought that a guy who runs into burning
buildings would be afraid of one hot little librarian?”

When
he put it like that, Matt felt like a fucking chicken.  He’d waited long
enough.

He
did
like her.  A lot.  And Rafael was right.  He wasn’t his father – he
could control himself, treat her gently, carefully, and not scare her with the
intensity of his physical craving.  They just needed a place to start.  A nice,
friendly, non-threatening dinner date.

I’m
going to do it,
he
thought, and unfolded himself from the diner booth, leaving the waitress a
generous tip.

Trying
to ignore the stampeding frogs in his stomach and the curious eyes on him from
all around, he stepped toward the corner booth, noting that Adam froze as he saw
him approach.

“What’s
the matter?” asked Grace, and then looked up, eyes widening, “Oh.”

“Hi,
Grace.”

DID
HE HAVE TO take up all the oxygen in the room?  Grace supposed that when a man
was as big as Matt Harris, he was going to take the lion’s share of breathable
air.  She assured herself that her sudden breathlessness was
not
a
result of her impossible attraction to the hot firefighter.  He was objectively
beautiful, that was all – all that hard muscle that clothing couldn’t disguise,
the face carved by a divine hand, thick golden hair, and sky blue eyes that
practically shone with honesty and goodwill toward mankind.

She
wanted to climb him like a ladder and lick every inch along the way.

Shit.
Shit. Shit.

Grace
forced a cool smile.

“Hi,
Matt.  You remember my brother Adam.”

Matt
nodded, clearly curious, but didn’t comment on her brother’s sudden
reappearance.  Adam had been a nightmare for the Bright’s Ferry Fire Department,
and Grace couldn’t blame Matt for being un-thrilled to see him again.

“Adam’s
going to be staying with me for a while, taking some classes.  Isn’t that
great?” she went on brightly, squeezing Adam’s hand reassuringly. 

Grace
knew the second Matt spotted the scars on Adam’s wrists, but again, he remained
silent, just raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Did
you want something?”  Grace cringed internally as the words left her lips,
because for the briefest moment, Matt’s eyes flared with heat, and she felt an
answering tug low in her stomach.

Oh,
he definitely wants something. 

Though
she tried to block it out, Grace was one-hundred percent
certain
that
Matt Harris wanted her, had wanted her for months, if not longer.  The shy
giant followed her with his eyes whenever she entered a room, went out of his
way to make small talk when they were in groups, though she knew it made him
uncomfortable, and always seemed on the verge of asking her out.  Which was why
she fled nearly every time she saw him.

Clearly,
I have issues.

It
wasn’t that Grace thought that Matt was unapproachable or bad relationship
material, if she were looking for a normal, run-of-the-mill kind of
relationship.  If anything, he was
too
perfect – smart and funny and
kind.  The man rescued cats from trees and saved lives on a daily basis, for
Pete’s sake.  The problem was Grace.  She knew who she was and what she wanted,
and there was no way this wholesome, handsome, All-American Boy Scout type was
going to be able to give it to her.  He’d probably be horrified the first time
she asked him to spank her.

The
thought of his hands warming her ass had her clenching her thighs together.

God,
his hands are huge.

She
didn’t give a shit about her own reputation around town, but she definitely
didn’t want to be the one who “ruined” Matt Harris by dragging him down into a
world of kinky sexual delights where he most definitely didn’t belong.

And
you couldn’t handle it if he broke your heart,
the tiny voice
whispered, but she pushed that thought away, swallowing hard.

“So,
I wanted to ask you – ” he began.

Oh
fuck, don’t do it.

“I
noticed this new Italian place across the bay when I was visiting Mom last
week.  Right on the water.  I was wondering if you’d like to check it out with
me?  Maybe Saturday?”

The
hope in Matt’s eyes sent warm tingles coursing up her spine, and Grace was shocked
to find herself blushing under his scrutiny, even as her heart sank at what she
had to do.  She stood, scarcely containing the shiver as she noted that she
barely came up to his shoulder.

He
could pin me to the bed with no effort at all
, she thought, her clit
throbbing.

“Matt,
that’s so sweet, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

His
face fell.

“I’m
sorry, I wasn’t sure – are you seeing somebody else?”

“No. 
God, nothing like that,” replied Grace quickly, before realizing that
that
would have been the kinder lie, instead of making it sound like she found him
unappealing.

Matt
was trying to hide it, but he still looked like someone had kicked his puppy,
and Grace was suddenly ticked at him for putting her in this position to begin
with.  She knew Adam was watching them, along with the whole fucking diner.

I’m
trying to protect you, you idiot.

The
hurt on his face that he was trying to smother was unbearable, and Grace attempted
to ignore the little voice that wondered if she really wasn’t just trying to
protect herself.

OUCH,
THOUGHT
MATT. GRACE’S rejection hurt more than he had anticipated, but really, what had
he expected?  She was a delicate, exotic fairy who smelled like wildflowers, and
he was an oafish giant.  He tried to will himself to turn around and walk away,
but his feet seemed stuck to the floor.  The sympathy etched on her face was
going to kill him.

“I’m
sorry,” she murmured.

Impulsively
she reached out to squeeze his hand, and despite the cement truck crushing his
heart, Matt felt the tingle spread from where her warm, soft fingers touched
his to the rest of his body, spearing a delicious arrow of sensation straight to
his cock.  He wanted those fingers all over him.

This
is it,
he thought, morose,
This one little touch is all I get.

It
shouldn’t be such a big deal.  Guys got turned down by girls all the time, but
suddenly Matt was furious – at his father, at the world, but mostly at himself
for ever being born and for thinking for even one second that someone like
Grace would welcome his advances.

He
had to get out of there.

“Forget
about it.  It was just a thought.  I’ll see you around.”

Blindly,
he turned and stumbled for the exit, nearly taking out a waitress carrying a
full tray in the process.

ADAM
MALLOW REGARDED HIS sister thoughtfully as she unlocked the front door to her
little blue house on the edge of town.  She’d been quiet since a devastated Matt
Harris had left the diner, looking like she’d turned him down for prom in front
of the whole school.  Adam didn’t know what the problem was, but Matt would
have to be an idiot not to see that despite the rejection, Grace lit up like a
firefly when he approached.  She tried like hell to hide it, but she was
seriously into the guy.

“So,
why’d you turn him down?” he finally asked as Grace ushered him inside.

Grace
just glared and moved to hang her coat up.  Adam took a moment to look around. 
The house was as he remembered it when he’d helped her move in five years ago,
but more lived-in.  There were books everywhere, of course, with a few tasteful
gothic touches and rich jewel tones that included lots of purple.  It looked so
much like Grace that Adam felt a lump rise up in his throat.

“Well?”
he prodded as she guided him up the stairs to the guest room.

“You’re
not going to drop it, are you?” she muttered.

“Probably
not,” Adam replied cheerfully, “You should have said yes.”

Grace
scowled and began yanking sheets out of the closet to make the bed.

“He’s
not my type.”

“So
what?”

Three
years ago, Adam would have died before pushing his sister at such an obvious
goody goody, but now he’d seen enough of the darker side of humanity to want
Grace kept as far away from it as possible.  Matt was a straight shooter, a
solid, upstanding guy, and he was clearly over the moon about Grace, which
showed excellent taste.  And the fact that he hadn’t taken one look at Adam and
dragged him out back to pound him into the dirt was major points in his favor.

It
didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Matt made his sister nervous, and Adam
realized with a pang that she hadn’t needed a defense mechanism until the
people in her life started letting her down.

Until
I started letting her down.

“I
know it’s been awhile, but it’s not like any of those losers you dated in
college were anything special.  Granted, he’s not all dark and Satan-worshippy
like that one guy, what was his name?  Marco?  Polo?”

“Drako,”
Grace gritted out, “And yes, that was a mistake.  But that doesn’t mean that
Matt Harris and I have anything in common, Adam.”

“How
do you know unless you go out with him?”

“Why
are you so interested in my love life?”

Adam
shrugged and flopped down on the bed.

“Shit,
Grace, I just want you to be happy.”