Fire Dancer (Spellbound in Sedona #2)

Chapter Eighteen

PIPPA

Every nerve in my body tensed as I waited for Ingo’s answer. Would he stay the night?

I wanted him to. Desperately. And no, I didn’t have it in me to fight the ever-present temptation he posed. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it temptation. More like pure need, because I’d never felt more alone, and I’d never felt safer than with Ingo. Especially when we were all cozied up.

His eyes glowed, though his furrowed brow said he was trying to be rational.

“Ingo…” I whispered, reaching for his hand.

He didn’t mirror the gesture, which hurt. But it wasn’t lost on me that I’d subjected him to the same I want you, but I know I shouldn’t do this torture.

I closed my eyes, vowing that we would be finished forever if he turned me down. This so close, yet so far state wasn’t doing either of us any good.

My hopes dimmed as my hand hung in the air, all lonely and cold. But then Ingo wrapped his warm fingers around mine, and I had my answer.

A switch flipped in me, and I dove in for a kiss, finding his lips even before my eyes opened.

Then I closed them again, because his answer was loud and clear.

He pressed his lips hard against mine, he slid his arms around me, and held me tight. For a while, all our pent-up passion was laser-concentrated on our lips, as if the rest of our bodies didn’t exist.

But then I remembered, and my hands immediately set off on a new mission.

As a kid, I’d spent most of the year with my father in Colorado. But I’d spent most of each summer with my aunt on the ranch, and every time I arrived, I would whoop and run around, assuring myself my favorite places were still there.

Which was exactly what I did with Ingo now. I skimmed my hands over his back, then chest, revisiting all those familiar contours. As a kid, I would climb the paddock fence to whistle to the horses, and now, it felt just as urgent to wind a leg around his and press my core closer. The heat between us flared, and my heart hammered.

I broke off our kiss just long enough to chuckle. “Remember that time out at Sunset Point?”

Ingo nibbled his way down my neck, pausing here and there to reply. “I’ll…never…forget…it.”

That had been our first time, back as teenagers, and it had been desperate and sloppy. But, hell. We’d both glowed with satisfaction for days after, and we’d gradually refined our technique in the weeks, months, and years that followed.

This felt much the same. A door opening. A new world, full of hope and promise.

I pushed my fears and worries to the edge of that world the way I’d pushed all the farm equipment to the periphery of the barn. Someday, I would have to face sorting through it all. But right now, I had a working solution.

And boy, did that solution work for me. Especially with Ingo sliding his hands over my rear, pressing me closer. He guided me back until I was anchored against one of the roof posts. That gave us a nice, firm surface without any give, the way I worked molten glass against a metal surface in the hot shop.

I chuckled again. Molten. Hot shop. All so fitting.

“You’re laughing with me, not at me, right?” Ingo murmured between kisses.

His lips were at my collarbone, his hand sliding from my belly to my chest.

“Just thinking of the hot shop,” I said. “Suddenly, everything is full of innuendo.”

“Like at a firehouse?” He laughed.

I nodded, reaching for his…er, apparatus. “Yeah. Like hose control.”

“Doing my best,” he rumbled. “But you’re not making it any easier.”

We both laughed, and the sound echoed through the barn.

“Head pressure…” I murmured.

“We’ll test that soon,” he promised. “But first…”

He closed a hand around my breast, and I moaned, tipping my head back.

A frontal assault, in firefighter talk. I was all for it.

My nipple peaked like one of those timers that popped up when the Thanksgiving turkey was ready. The fact that I didn’t mind the crude comparison said a lot about my state of mind. Because, yes, oh yes. I was ready to be all gobbled up.

Soon, I was, and most thoroughly. First, through the cotton of my knee-length sleep shirt, then skin-to-skin. The fabric bunched as Ingo tugged it, blocking my view of the best show in town, so I pulled off the shirt and tossed it aside.

“Not cold?” Ingo asked.

On the contrary. I needed an air conditioner.

And, wait. Who’d started that blaze in the fireplace? I caught a glimpse of it crackling, then frowned. The mystery occupied my mind for all of two seconds before more important things took over. Like how to strip Ingo naked without interrupting our momentum, for starters.

Another part of me relished every second. After years of terribly misguided celibacy, or so it seemed now, we were finally getting close.

Ingo switched from one side to the other, cupping my soft flesh with his hand. I wasn’t built big, but Ingo was a master at making maximum use of the resources at his disposal. And now that I was naked — convenient! — even more raw materials were available. Like my core, which he thoroughly explored with his free hand.

“Firefighters are supposed to extinguish fires, not start them,” I scolded between throaty sighs.

“Laying the blame on me, huh?” he mumbled without a hint of complaint.

I laughed. “What was that terrible line about firefighters?”

“Find ’em hot, leave ’em wet.”

His voice was all growly, and between that and the actual message…let’s just say he was making swift progress on the second part of that promise.

“Speaking of which…” I mumbled, guiding his head lower. And lower…

In no time, he was knocking at heaven’s door — or rather, circling, probing, licking. At that point, I had one leg slung over his shoulder, and it was only by dint of that support pole that I remained upright. Ingo gradually guided my leg outward, opening the pearly gates, so to speak.

I knew I wasn’t in heaven. But it sure felt like it.

I ground against him, making enough noise for the soundtrack of a dirty movie — the director’s cut. Then I shook, shuddered, and came with a howl.

Everything went hazy for a while. Eventually, I found myself comfortably propped between Ingo and the support pole. Or the support pole and Ingo. It was hard to tell one from the other until I reached around, identifying Ingo’s contours, right down to his…er, personal support pole.

I gripped it, congratulating the instincts that had guided me there.

“What are you smiling about now?” Ingo chided.

I shook my head. “Inside joke, sorry. Another dirty one.”

He laughed, then went serious and kissed me.

“Mm,” I mumbled, swirling my tongue.

His body stiffened, and his kiss went harder and deeper, stoking my inner fire all over again.