All Fired Up (Green Valley Heroes #7)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

MADELINE

W e end up renting the movie online, pausing it partway through to get our pizza, the top smothered with pepperoni and cheese, just how I like it. I make note of the brand because I’ve never had it before. He offers me a beer but I decline, wanting to keep my wits about me. The last time I drank around him, I agreed to his crazy dare.

Somehow, by the end of the movie, we’re sitting side by side underneath one throw blanket, which I swear I don’t remember happening. Maybe I was too caught up in the movie.

His whole right side is warm against my left, but I scoot away, putting space between us. On the screen, the credits roll, the rest of the room dark, the rain outside long gone. I should see about getting my clothes and heading home. There’s no reason to be here any longer.

And yet, I don’t.

I look over at him, finding him already looking at me, his expression unreadable.

“Did you like the movie?” I ask.

He grabs the remote and pauses the credits, down at the production assistants no one pays attention to at this point in the listing. “Yeah. You?”

I nod, finding a loose string on my borrowed shirt and looping it around my index finger. “What did you like best?”

He reaches out and places his hand on mine briefly, stopping my nervous action. “That I got to watch it with you.”

Then, holding eye contact with me, he tucks a loose strand of hair that’s fallen forward behind my ear. Carefully. Slowly. Giving me time to stop him. To pull away. To let him know that’s beyond the bounds of this tentative friendship we’ve forged.

But I don’t. Instead, my breathing picks up as his thumb sweeps over my jaw and down my neck, tingles racing in its wake.

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, so gently I’m not sure it’s really happening. Not sure I’m dreaming all of this. Maybe I’ll wake at any moment to discover it’s time to head to the fire station for the day.

He cups my face and deepens the kiss, his mouth warm and encouraging, and I let myself drift away, not wanting to face all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this. I only want to feel him as he makes good on all those things I wanted last night but he didn’t give.

His other hand slides through my hair, his nails scraping softly against my scalp, and a whole-body shudder runs through me, a moan escaping me. He does it again, his hand on my face sliding down my body to my lower back, pulling me closer. I comply, wanting his warmth, his touch.

His hand moves even lower, gripping my ass, and I arch into his touch, wanting more. There’s this deep rumble in his chest, then he shifts, picking me up and adjusting me so I’m on his lap, straddling him. I’m momentarily shocked out of my stupor, but then he’s kissing me again, both his hands on my ass now, pressing me against his hardening length. Oh my God, that feels good.

A mixture of desire and lust and wanting swirls in my gut as I go along with it, my hands greedy as they run over his broad shoulders, then into his hair, tugging at the thick strands. His lips break from mine and travel over my jaw to my neck, sucking gently on the tender skin. It’s as if there’s a line directly from that spot to the core of me, pressure building, and I shift against him, needing relief.

“That’s it, baby. Ride me,” he whispers against my neck, and I bite my lip to contain the moan that wants out. He sounds so sexy, his voice full of rough promise.

One of his hands stays on my ass, guiding me in the rhythm, the other slipping under my shirt to press hot against my back. I’m suddenly aware I’m not wearing a bra, that it’s still in the dryer. My breasts ache with a heavy fullness, anticipating his touch, and as his hand moves to my front, trailing up my stomach, I hold my breath, desperately wanting more.

He strokes the underside of my breast with light passes, until I’m practically straining against him, and as he finally fully cups me, I bear down harder on him, riding him like he said, seeking a pleasure I haven’t experienced in what feels like forever.

“You like that?” he murmurs, squeezing me gently, then switching breasts to do the same to the other.

I nod frantically, and as his thumb rubs my nipple, teasing it into a hard peak, the edge I’ve been hurtling toward is suddenly there. I cry out as the orgasm overtakes me, swift and sure, my nails digging into his shoulders as I ride him for all I’m worth.

I’m panting as he releases my breast, his hand resting on my hip, and I lean back, a fluid, boneless, tingly sensation spreading all through me.

Hunter’s gaze is hazy with lust as he watches me. “Did you come?”

That boneless feeling fades, a rigid panic taking its place. Oh my God, I did. I came on top of Hunter, dry humping him like there’s no tomorrow, our clothes still fully on. And in an embarrassingly short amount of time, too. What is wrong with me?

“I, um...” I scramble off of him, tripping over my feet, and land hard on my ass on the floor.

He leans forward to help me up and I scoot back, not wanting his hands on me. I can’t think right when his hands are on me.

My face is an inferno as I get to my feet, not knowing how to explain myself, how to explain that I didn’t mean to do what we just did, how all of this is happening too fast.

So, I do what any crazy girl would do. I bolt.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your clothes,” I mumble, already halfway to the door. “And dinner. And the movie.” Wait, was this a date? No, of course not. What am I thinking? “I have to go,” I say, as if that wasn’t obvious.

He stands and my lips part as my gaze zeroes in on his hard-on, straining at the thin fabric of his gym shorts. I’m awful to leave him like this, high and dry while I already got mine. But I can’t...I don’t know how to undo what I’ve already done.

I grab my purse and search the front door area for my shoes, then remember they’re in the garage. Shit. They’re probably still soaking wet, anyway. I’ll get them another time. Or, better yet, I’ll buy new ones. Same with my clothes in the dryer. Because I’m going home to bury myself in a hole so deep, I’ll never have to face Hunter again. How can I?

He calls my name as I open the door, but I don’t stick around. The sidewalk is wet, everything outside misted in a fine dew from the rain earlier, but I ignore all that as I fumble in my purse for my keys, needing to find the unlock button on the fob.

“Madeline.”

I make the mistake of glancing behind me, Hunter barefoot and jogging toward me. No, no, no. I’m not ready for this. I have no idea what any of this was. If he’s actually attracted to me or maybe he was just horny. Maybe he was looking for a quick hookup.

But that’s not me. I don’t do things like this.

I finally find the right button, but then his hand is on the driver’s side door, preventing me from opening it. Why can’t he let me escape with a scrap of dignity left?

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I pause, an apology the last thing I expected from him. “I didn’t mean to go too fast or push you into anything you weren’t ready for. I thought you were on board with it.”

I stare up at him, at the sincerity on his face. And underneath that, the vulnerability. The worry. As if he’s afraid he messed this up.

No, I messed it up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks when I stay silent.

I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing what he’s suggesting is the right thing to do. The responsible thing. He deserves it.

“Tomorrow,” I whisper through dry lips, taking the coward’s way out. I need time to think this through, to figure out how to explain myself. To figure out what I want out of all this.

Because I don’t have the first clue at the moment.

“You’ll be at training?”

I nod, owing him that at least.

“I’ll see you then.”

He steps back. Doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t try to kiss me. He’s giving me space. The space I implicitly asked for when I ran from him like a crazy person.

I get in my car, the pedals feeling weird under my bare feet, but I ignore that as I back out of his driveway and speed away, until I can’t see him in the rearview mirror anymore. The tears come then, hot and urgent, until my vision is so blurry, I have to pull over.

What the hell is wrong with me? Am I mad at myself for screwing everything up? For risking everything we’ve built so far for a quick release? Out of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the responsible one. Hunter and I have to work together for another month until the exams, and adding sex to the mix is a terrible idea. What if it all goes wrong?

And what if it goes right? What if he’s everything you never knew you wanted in a man?

I shove that thought aside, not willing to entertain it. I’ll figure this out. I will.

There are no other options.

The next day at the fire station seems to both simultaneously drag on forever and zip by. Hunter asks me in the morning if I’m okay, but otherwise doesn’t mention last night. The ball is in my court, and though I stayed up way too late thinking about it, I don’t have an answer for him other than I don’t want to potentially mess things up between us. That’s what it boils down to.

I leave for lunch so I don’t have to talk to him, just like the coward I am, but I can’t escape him when we’re dismissed in the late afternoon. He walks me to my car, waiting for the others to leave, and asks if I’m ready to talk.

I nod, even as I think to myself, what man wants to talk about something like this? Don’t men actively avoid talking about their relationship status?

Not that this is a relationship.

“I don’t really understand what happened last night,” I say, looking down at my backup pair of sneakers, the ones that are older and worn down. I still have to get my stuff from his house. “How all of a sudden we were making out when a month ago we were at each other’s throats.”

He tucks his hands in his pockets and leans against the hood of my car, sighing. “What’s that saying? There’s a fine line between love and hate.”

I look up at him sharply. Love?

He pales, as if he realizes what he said. “Not that we were at either of those extremes. I don’t love you. Or hate you.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, then mutters, “Shit.”

His unease actually sets me more at ease. “I get what you mean. We’ve had strong reactions to each other since the beginning.”

“Right,” he says, nodding.

My hands twist together in front of me, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “But I wasn’t expecting that at all. I thought that kiss Friday night was a joke. Something you did as part of the game. I didn’t know it would turn into anything more.”

Something like shame crosses his face for a second. “Sorry I tricked you.”

Tricked me? “What?”

He toes a line in the gravel between us, then wipes it away with his foot. “Because I wanted to kiss you and you didn’t feel the same.”

My breath catches in my throat. He what? “But you stopped the kiss. I wanted to take it farther and you didn’t.”

He pauses, looking up at me. “I thought you were teasing me.”

“No, I . . . I was into it.”

“I was, too. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

He has? “Since when?”

He runs a hand through his hair again, thinking. “Since that day you rubbed glitter all over me and threatened me not to shoulder bump you.”

So I’m not crazy. He really did want to kiss me that day.

“But I didn’t let myself think about it again until the other night,” he continues. “I wasn’t sure I had a chance with you. I’m still not.”

A chance with me? Like he wants to date me? No, that’s ridiculous. That’s not what he means. He must mean a night together. The way he does with all those other girls.

“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” I mumble.

One side of his mouth lifts in a half smile. “Can’t believe I made you speechless.”

I nudge his shoulder, glad we’re still on good enough terms for him to tease me. “Be serious.”

“I am. You always have something to say.”

Nodding, I look down at my shoes again. I don’t want to look at him for this next part. “We have a month left of training. A month left to be partners. And I don’t want anything to ruin that. For other feelings and emotions to possibly undo everything we’ve worked so hard to build.”

He’s silent for a few moments, but I don’t glance up at him. “You think it would?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I’m afraid to jeopardize it. I could continue the physical training by myself if I had to, since you showed me everything I need to do. But the studying...I think you really need me for that.”

He doesn’t respond, and as the silence stretches out, a breeze picks up, blowing loose tendrils of my hair in my face. I think back to last night as Hunter had tucked my hair behind my ear. How gentle he was. How he’d kissed me with such passion afterward.

No, no. Don’t think of that.

“You can tell me you’re not interested,” he says, his tone harder than expected. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

I finally look up at him again, at his carefully neutral expression. “It’s not that. I’m just trying to be practical. We’re so close to getting what we both want.”

“And if what I want has changed?”

A shiver runs over me at the look in his eye. Does he mean he wants me? It certainly seemed like he did last night.

But that’s temporary. Fleeting. I can’t risk it all for a night with him. That’s crazy.

I laugh nervously, the sound escaping me unwillingly. “We agreed to be training partners. Not anything more.”

He moves closer, his hand settling on my hip. “I want more. I want you.”

I swallow past the sudden thickness in my throat, reeling for a moment before I get myself under control. He can’t be serious. He probably has residual horniness from last night. Did he take care of himself after I left? Did he think of me when he did it?

Oh my God, what is wrong with me? It’s not the time to be thinking of that. “You...you’re probably just excited by the thrill of the chase. Because I’m not the kind of girl you’re usually with.”

He releases his hold on my hip and steps back, out of reach. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” His voice is expressionless, jaw set tight.

Oh, no. I hurt his feelings. Playing back the words in my head, they’re practically one big insult. “Hunter, I?—”

“I can’t go running tonight,” he says, backing away toward his car. “I have stuff I need to do.”

Pressure builds behind my eyes. He won’t even look at me now. “Okay.” I swallow again, willing myself not to cry. “Text me if you’re available tomorrow to study.” We always go to the library on Mondays.

He nods curtly and gets in his car, the engine of his Mustang rumbling to life a moment later. He peels out of the parking lot, and I sniff loudly in the following silence, running my hand under my nose. I will not cry two days in a row.

Even if I have a feeling I just lost a whole lot more than I bargained for.