Taking the Heat (14 page)

His hand tightened on her head and eased her up. She felt disoriented as he slid from her mouth and she opened her eyes. It was too bright in the room. Her mouth was too empty.

“Are you still liking this?” he asked, the words deep and ragged.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” He let go of his cock and wrapped her free hand where his had been. “Tighter,” he said. She squeezed him harder as he framed her head in both of his hands and lowered her mouth again. She took him deep, then even deeper as his hands guided her down. His cock hit the back of her throat. She held her breath for a moment until he raised her back up and she could breathe.

She should have felt used, she realized as he guided her slowly up and down, fucking himself with her mouth. But she didn't. She felt...almost light. Shimmering. She felt as if she was being fucked for the first time, and she loved it.

“Is that good?” he whispered. “Is that okay?”

She hummed an answer around his shaft and pressed her tongue tighter to him.

“Jesus,” he gasped. “You feel so good, Veronica. And you look so perfect. Fuck, I'm sorry, but I like seeing you like this. I like watching my cock slide in and out of your pretty mouth.
Fuck
.”

The heat crashed over her again, some strange, incredibly arousing variety of embarrassment that made her groan with pleasure. She sucked him harder. Faster.

Finally, he cursed and drew her head up. He gripped himself again and stroked quickly, one hand still tangled in her hair, holding her still. She panted, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “Veronica. Fuck.” His cock jumped and come shot onto his belly, then another pulse of it. She watched in fascination as he jerked off right in front of her. Her heart raced at the sight, as if she were watching something forbidden.

His breath huffed from him in broken gasps until his fist tightened in one long last squeeze of his cock and his head fell back onto the couch. “Oh, my God,” he said, half laughing around the words. “Holy shit.”

She pressed her lips together to hold in a secret smile. She shouldn't feel proud. Hadn't she just been telling herself that men didn't seem very picky about blow jobs?

But while his eyes were closed, she took the chance to look him over. The muscles of his neck and shoulders had lost all their tension. His hands lay open and relaxed on his naked thighs, as if he were meditating. But best of all, the flat, ridged plane of his belly was streaked with come, and the sight of it filled her with an odd joy. It felt like yet another secret for her to keep, but this was a delicious kind of secret she'd never, ever had before.

She ducked her head and pressed a kiss to his thigh and she finally let herself smile against him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I
AM
 
A
 
SEX
 
GODDESS
.

She smirked at the words she'd typed into her blank document. “A sex goddess,” she whispered to herself. But no, that wasn't quite it. There were too many types of sex she hadn't had yet.

She backed the cursor all the way up and tried again.
I give the best blow jobs in the whole world.
Okay, that probably wasn't true. Yet. She'd only given one awesome blow job, after all.

I am a dick-sucking savant.

Yes. That was it. And she was the perfect match for a world-class pussy eater like Gabe.

Veronica smiled stupidly at the screen, blushing at her own vulgar thoughts. She had to get to work, but all she wanted to do was think about what they'd done the night before.

He hadn't spent the night. She understood why. It was just sex. It wasn't serious. And he'd been due at work first thing in the morning, so he hadn't stayed. But she wished he had. She wanted it again.

Hoping more caffeine would clear the haze of lust from her head, she got up and poured herself another cup of coffee.

Her new note stared her in the face.
#3—Try new things.
She was really kicking ass at that one. She'd tried Gabe MacKenzie.

She sighed and leaned against the counter.

Holy mother, she was in trouble. One single orgasm and he was under her skin in a big way. Not that she was surprised. She'd waited a really long time for that orgasm, and it had been a good one. As far as she could tell. Maybe there were better ones. She wanted to find out.

Try new things.

She set her cup down and dug a pen from a drawer to add two words to the note.
#3—Try
all the
new things.

But first she had to work. She grabbed her coffee and laptop and headed to the desk in her bedroom. It would be easier to think if she was away from the oral-sex couch.

She opened the email from Torn and started writing.

Dear Torn,

I struggled with how to answer your letter, because there is no easy answer. You have dreams. You have goals and desires that are about you and have nothing to do with a man. But you also have a relationship that you value and a partner you love. The truth is that these two very separate things may not fit together.

I could tell you to sit down and make a list of pros and cons, of risks and rewards, but real life isn't neat like that. If you follow your dreams, there's a good chance they won't work out the way you expect. You might hate the city, you might hate the job, or you might get sick in a year and find that career and location are your lowest priorities. Then again, we all know that marriage isn't exactly a permanent state anymore. You can dedicate your life to someone and wake up to find that they're gone six months later.

But if you're keeping this from him, I'm not sure he's the love of your life. First of all, you're not communicating with him. Second, you don't trust him. What you're saying is “I'm considering giving up my dream to live where he wants to live, because I know he won't do the same for me.”

Torn, you have to tell him about your dreams, your job offer and your fears. His reaction might help you make the decision. But there's a good possibility that this relationship is already on shaky ground, shaky enough that if you stay in it and don't follow the dreams that are just for you, your love may fade more quickly than you think.

She hit Save, then rolled her shoulders. It was only a first pass. She'd shower and go grocery shopping and then read it again.

Before she closed her laptop, she paged to the top of the document just to be sure she'd erased her self-help mantras. Her editor didn't need to know that Dear Veronica was a dick-sucking savant. It would make for some awkward meetings.

She managed to get through the next couple of hours. She did a good job of not obsessing over her superhot lover. She showered and took only a moment to look at her naked body and wonder what it looked like to Gabe.

There were other adult things she had to do. She went to the bank, did her grocery shopping, put everything away and then cleaned the kitchen. But after all that, it was only one-thirty and she had to sit on her hands to stop herself from incessantly checking her texts.

She'd thought he might text this morning. She'd been sure he'd text this afternoon. He hadn't, and Veronica was trying to convince herself that wasn't a bad sign. After all, as meaningful as last night had been for her, for Gabe it had been just another sexual encounter. It hadn't been a first for him. He hadn't waited for years.

She snatched up her phone and checked it. Gabe hadn't texted.

Veronica felt suddenly disgusted with herself. Why was she waiting for Gabe to text? Didn't her fingers work just as well as his? He'd said he wanted to see the real her, and the real her wanted to text him.

Thanks for last night
, she typed, then hit Send. Alarm immediately flooded her veins. Was she flirting now or being awkward? Was there any difference where she was concerned?

After holding her breath as long as she could, she let it out and tried to breathe normally. When a full minute passed without a response, she groaned in pain. She was definitely being weird. Who sent a thank-you note for an orgasm?

Oh, God. She'd just sent a thank-you note for an orgasm!

She fell slowly forward until her forehead thumped the table. Then she thumped it again. “You are so bad at this,” she muttered. The last thump must have jarred something loose, because her head buzzed.

The second buzz vibrated through her elbow.

She reached for her phone so quickly that it slid away from her and nearly off the edge of the table, but she caught the slippery bastard and flipped it over.

No, thank YOU
, it said.
The pleasure was all mine.

She grinned so hard she thought her cheeks might cramp. Even though she told herself to wait a moment, she typed back immediately.
Not true at all. Finally.

His response was much quicker this time: a smiley face that matched her own ridiculous expression. She wanted to play it coy, but too many things were bubbling up inside her. She couldn't fight her eagerness. It was too new and too sweet.

She gave in without a struggle.
You're not still planning to keep me waiting, are you?

As if in answer, he didn't respond immediately this time. She bit her lip and tapped her foot. Then she glared at her phone. “Come on,” she muttered.

It finally buzzed.
Oh, I'm definitely going to make you wait.

NO!
she wrote back.
There's no need! I'm squirming RIGHT NOW.

It wasn't a joke. He was teasing her. Flirting with her. She was so damn delighted that she felt like a stupid teenage girl twirling her hair while she talked to her crush. But...with the added tension of knowing exactly what his mouth felt like on her clit. She squeezed her thighs together and laughed at the terrible tension already coiling between her legs.

God, don't say that
, Gabe wrote back.
Lunch break over in five minutes. I need to be presentable.

Veronica clapped a hand over her mouth to try to catch her scandalized laugh. She'd gotten letters seeking advice about sexting, and she'd always been a little scornful. It had seemed silly to her. But now she understood the appeal. If Gabe hadn't been at work, she would have teased him, tempted him, just to feel more of the hot power that pulsed into her blood. He was getting hard for her. She wanted him aching. She wanted him to touch himself and tell her about it. It was intoxicating.

Don't make me wait
, she tried again.

Thursday's not far away. And you know I never miss a show.

Thursday???
She sent that text and then shook her head. She wanted to see him sooner, but she didn't want to beg. Then again, when she'd asked nicely on Sunday, he'd come right over. She glared at the smiley face he sent back. It looked so serene. So peaceful.

“Ha,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the phone. She had something to offer now, too. She was a savant.
Thursday is a long way off if you're already hard. Have fun remembering my mouth.

As soon as she sent it, she started laughing. She laughed harder when she saw his response.
Damn you.

She was going to have to go back and pull that email she'd gotten last week about sexting. She'd type up a response today and post it on the online extras. She had a whole new attitude now.

If you can't wait that long
,
 
she wrote,
I need a date tonight. Charity thing at a gallery. Interested?

Her phone stayed silent for a while. This time she didn't doubt herself. He might have more experience, but she wasn't powerless. His hands had been shaking last night. He'd wanted it so badly.

Finally, she got her answer.
Yes.

Veronica took a deep breath, trying to steady her thundering heart. Yes. She'd see him tonight. She texted the details and said goodbye. Then she very carefully set her phone down on the table, opened her laptop and got back to work.

CHAPTER TWELVE

G
ABE
 
WAS
 
RUNNING
 
LATE
.
He hated being late. He especially hated being late when he knew that Veronica was waiting for him.

He'd warned her that he wouldn't be there before eight and it was only seven fifty, but he had to get home to shower and change before he could meet her at the gallery.

Still, instead of rushing out of the training room of the fire station, he slapped Benton on the back. “You'd better work on that overhand bend,” he said.

“Fuck you,” Benton returned with a smile as he unraveled the climbing knots he'd been working on.

“I'm just saying. That knot took you three tries.”

“It took two tries, asshole.”

“Fine, but I should definitely take the lead next Sunday.”

“Ha!” Benton grabbed his pack. “I'm sure I'll be safe in your arms. I've gotta get to my shift. See you next weekend.”

Before following Benton out the door, Gabe headed over to shake William's hand. “Thanks for the refresher, man.”

William shrugged. “You didn't seem to need it. You probably know more knots than I do.”

“I practiced a lot during the winters in Cincinnati. Not much climbing there.” Gabe helped William recoil the last ropes that were piled on the table.

“I have to admit,” William said, “I was surprised to see you. I don't think we've ever had a librarian on the technical rescue team.”

“Yeah, well we don't get many firefighters in the library, either.”

“Touché.”

“Actually, I know you guys read all the time. The Cincy firefighters seemed big on ebooks. We're working on getting ebook lending set up, so I'll let you know when it's up and running.”

“Sounds good,” William said with a wink. “But then we won't have an excuse to come flirt with the librarians. Present company excepted, of course.”

“Now my feelings are hurt,” Gabe said, dropping a coil in the box of rope William had brought to educate the rescue team on rope safety.

William dropped the last rope in. “Thanks for the help. If you want to hang out a minute, we're picking up a game out back.”

“Another time, thanks. I've got plans tonight.”

“Book club?” William asked.

“Something like that.”

Gabe hit the door and practically jogged toward his street, wishing he'd been smart enough to drive to work today. His phone rang when he was almost to his place. “Hi,” he said as soon as he answered. “I'll be there in fifteen.”

“Do you have a date, baby brother?”

He laughed in shock at the sound of his sister's voice. “Hey, Naomi. I'm heading out for a beer.”

“Really? Your voice sounded
awfully
sweet,” she teased.

“Shit.” He shook his head. “What's up? Is everything okay?”

“Everything's fine, but I want to hear more about this date.”

“It's just a date,” he said, and she squealed in excitement.

“I knew it. Tell me all about her.”

“I'm not telling you anything. And I'm running late. That's all you need to know.”

She sighed but gave up easily. “All right. I was just calling to say I'm thinking of coming to visit sometime. Would you let me stay if I did? Pretty please?”

“I've only got one bedroom,” he said.

“Pleeeeeease? Come on. You know I hate hotels.”

He could perfectly picture her exaggerated pout. He shook his head. “You'd have to sleep on my couch.”

“Yay! I'll probably come next week. Let all your single friends know.”

He groaned as she hung up on him, but his irritation was superficial. He hadn't seen Naomi in almost nine months, and he'd be happy to have her around, though he cringed over what she'd do to his bathroom counter. This time he'd just clear his stuff out of there entirely. And she probably wouldn't stay long. She was a restless soul.

She'd had an apartment in New York for a couple of years, but she'd spent only a few nights a year there. Even when she wasn't traveling, she liked being with other people too much to live alone.

If he thought too long about it, there was no sign she'd ever be ready to settle down. His solution was not to think too long about it. Somebody had to take over the family business.

Their dad had inherited the original MacKenzie's from his father, just a little burger joint in Queens. But their dad had taken that little burger joint and all his father's secrets, and he'd turned the business into a chain of high-end retro restaurants that had gotten more popular every year since 1999. They ground their own beef, won awards for their french fries and served fifteen-dollar bourbon-spiked milkshakes to all the hipsters of Manhattan.

Gabe had worked in the restaurants from the time he could walk. He knew everything about the business. But his heart wasn't in it. Every single year, he'd put each dollar he earned at MacKenzie's in the bank to save up for summer wilderness camps. He liked the restaurants and he loved the people, but running MacKenzie's wasn't his passion.

It would just be his job.

Dad wasn't going to retire until one of his kids took over, and Gabe was very afraid his dad would work himself into an early grave. After his father had had two minor health scares in the past year, Gabe had known what he needed to do.

His dad would turn sixty in one year, and Gabe had talked him into retiring then. He'd talked him into it by agreeing to take over. He'd talked himself into it by pretending that five years from now Naomi might be willing to take the reins for a while. Hell, ten years from now even vegan Claire might get on board.

Until then...well, you did what you needed to do for your family, and Gabe's dad deserved to step down and relax for a while. He'd worked hard to pass MacKenzie's on to his kids, and Gabe would make sure that happened.

But not right now. He didn't have to think about any of that right now, because he was on his way to see Veronica.

He stepped into his apartment and shed his tension along with his work clothes. Veronica hadn't been specific, but a charity event at a gallery sounded more formal than other Jackson events, so no jeans tonight. He showered as quickly as he could, then pulled on black slacks and a blue dress shirt. He was out the door at eight fifteen and hoped the walk over would finish drying his hair.

He'd been looking forward to seeing her all day. Hell, he'd been looking forward to seeing her since the moment he'd left her place on Sunday night. He was glad she'd gotten in touch. He'd wanted to text her this morning, but he hadn't trusted his impulse. Maybe he'd wanted to speak to her, or maybe he'd just wanted to make sure she thought of him as amazing. The perfect lover. The guy who'd made her come and then texted her in the morning to say hi.

He'd never really thought of himself as...
manipulating
situations. Not until a bad breakup two years before. They'd been seeing each other for six months, and Gabe had been ready to end it, but he'd wanted to let her down gently. Eloise had been talking about love and the future, and Gabe had felt himself cringing away, but still... He hadn't wanted to be an asshole about it.

That had seemed like a kind thing until Eloise had confronted him and accused him of always wanting to be the good guy and stringing her along in the process. If he'd just been honest, she could have moved on, and instead he'd kept her thinking there might be a chance.

“You think you're doing the right thing,” she'd yelled, “but all you do is try to manipulate how I see you! Stop fucking around with my emotions and tell me the
truth
.”

He'd told her the truth then, because he'd been angry enough to do it. It was only later that he'd really thought about what she'd said. It took almost a year to realize she'd been right. He liked to control what people thought of him, be their ideal. He didn't want to do that with Veronica.

Especially because he knew he was misleading her in other ways. With another woman, Gabe could keep quiet about his plans and see where the relationship led. Enjoy the ride.

But Veronica threw a huge wrench into the works. It didn't feel casual. It wasn't serious yet, but it could be. Not a problem in and of itself, but Veronica hated New York, and he was heading back there. There was no way around that. If things did get serious with her, there was no future.

Even if he set next year's plans aside and focused only on the present, he was misleading her. He hadn't lied exactly. Yes, he'd grown up in New York City, but he hadn't lived there full-time since he'd left for college at eighteen. It no longer felt like his home, but his family was still there. He still went back for holidays. Now that she was comfortable with him, he could tell her that. Let her know that not all guys from Manhattan were assholes.

Reassuring himself that she'd understand or at the very least that he couldn't control how she'd feel about it, he spotted the gallery ahead and picked up his pace.

He'd been in a couple of the Jackson galleries, but he could tell this one was way too rich for his blood as he approached. There was a huge abstract bronze statue in the window that he'd guess cost something close to six figures. This was no local artists' shop.

It was a large space and crowded with people. Gabe had assumed he'd spot Veronica as soon as he walked in, but she didn't seem to be in the front room. He passed through to a back room that was even bigger. A bar was set up in the middle of the room and dozens of people milled around. They weren't his normal Jackson crowd. In fact, he felt as if he'd been transported back to Manhattan. The women wore spike heels and lots of jewelry. Most of the men were twice Gabe's age. He had no idea how Veronica had ended up here. Maybe it was part of her gig with the paper.

He scanned the crowd as he walked slowly around the bar, watching for the bright, vibrant Veronica who made public appearances. But he didn't find her. He found a shier version.

She stood in a corner, in the shadows between two brightly lit paintings. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, and her eyes were cast down, staring at the champagne in her hand. She wore a little black dress that skimmed her body and showed off her legs. Gabe's heart skipped at the sight of her.

It did more than skip when she looked up and spotted him. The uncertainty on her face disappeared in an instant, replaced by a smile that crinkled her eyes and twisted his heart.

“Gabe!” he heard her say from twenty feet away. She strode toward him, her legs muscles tightening with the movement. He let himself watch the show.

She reached toward him as if she meant to hug him but then seemed to catch herself and stuttered to a stop a foot away. “Hi,” she said.

He leaned closer, keeping his hands to himself as his mouth neared her cheek. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, and watched her skin turn pink.

She touched her hair and ducked her head. “Thank you. And thank you for coming.”

He meant to say something charming then, but the sight of her so close started a series of memories in his head. Quick little movies of Veronica perched topless on his lap, of her naked on the couch, of her licking him, teasing him, sucking him. “Damn,” he breathed. “It's good to see you.”

She glanced up, and her happy eyes held his. Her shy smile turned wicked.

Gabe cleared his throat and rocked back a little, aware that he was already on the verge of getting embarrassingly aroused. “So what are we doing here?” he asked.

“My dad's really into being a big shot in Jackson. Sometimes he wants me to come to these charity events with him. It makes him seem like a community family man or something.”

Gabe was suddenly very glad he'd moved back. “Your father is here?”

“He's in front being— Oh, shit. This is weird, isn't it? I didn't mean to make this into a meet-the-family thing! Oh, God. I won't even introduce you, okay? This is...” She grimaced and shook her head. “I'm sorry.”

“It's no big deal,” he said, hoping he was right.

“I wasn't thinking of that. I just wanted someone to keep me company. It's always so boring. There aren't a lot of young single people at charity auctions, and there's never anyone I know, and I wanted to see you.”

“Hey.” He rubbed her arm. “It's fine. If you introduce me to your dad, I'll pretend we just met and I'm barely tolerating your presence. It'll be fine.”

She nodded and crossed her arms tightly. “You're kidding, right?”

“Yes, I'm kidding. I'll introduce myself and then ask his permission to take your virginity. How's that?”

Her laughter started out as a shocked squeal, but it soon descended into hilarity, complete with tears leaking from her eyes. “You,” she gasped, “really are the worst.”

“I know. Sorry.” He had a strong urge to pull her into his arms and press a kiss to the top of her head, but he didn't have that right. Not in public. Certainly not with her dad here.

A waiter approached and Gabe snagged two glasses of champagne, exchanging Veronica's nearly empty glass for a fresh one.

“Should we mingle?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” she said. “Let's look at the art instead.” She moved toward a wall of photographs. “This is a local photographer. She has her own place around the corner.”

He thought the photo was black-and-white, but as he studied it, he realized it was only a late fall scene of bare aspen against a hill of rock and snow. There was a hint of gold in the crushed aspen leaves that littered the ground. “It feels a little sad,” he said.

“It is. But I love it. She doesn't take the most obvious photos. There are so many beautiful places here. I like that she finds the secrets, too.”