Hot for the Fireman: Chapter 3

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Olivia stood in the lobby of the upscale hotel while Wolf—she was still curious how he acquired the nickname—rented them a room for their agreed upon single night of anonymous sexual abandon. She hadn’t stood a chance the second Wolf spoke to her. How the hell was a girl supposed to keep her wits about her under the attention of so much maleness?

After uncharacteristically agreeing to this arrangement, they decided on a hotel and she followed him in her car. On the way, she called her best friend again, but it went to voicemail. Olivia had left a message with a quick rundown of the situation and the hotel info, then promised to call her in the morning to let her know she was okay, which would inevitably turn into an interrogation for details.

Picturing the look on Angie’s face when she finally listened to the message made Olivia chuckle to herself. The two women were opposite in almost every way, yet somehow complemented each other perfectly. She’d loved Angie from the first, when Olivia was enjoying her lunch in the commons at Boston College and saw the fiery Latina lay into a guy twice her size for making a lewd comment about her curvy ass. The guy’s arrogance had shriveled faster than his nuts dipped in ice water, and after he apologized to her for being “a misogynistic pig” (apology script supplied by none other than Angie herself), he walked away in silence and gave her a wide berth from then on.

Olivia had been so impressed, she’d started a slow clap to a standing O, to which Angie responded with a deep curtsy and an introduction. They’d been best friends ever since, and Olivia never stopped admiring Angie for her strong sense of self and the fearless way she handled life.

Angie was going to have conniptions when she heard that her straight-laced, overly cautious friend agreed to a one-night stand with a handsome stranger on a whim. It certainly wasn’t anything she’d ever do under normal circumstances, much less the one she’d been in for the past two years.

It had taken her a long time to move on from the marriage she no longer had—from the life she no longer had without Brett—but she’d finally started to actively date a few months ago. Lord knows she’d been on plenty since. Some, like tonight, were total busts, and some were decent with a handful going on to second and third dates. Unfortunately, they never made it further than that. Even the ones that made it that far were only because she was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. It certainly wasn’t from any sort of mutual connection or spark, and after so many failed attempts, Olivia couldn’t help wonder if she wasn’t the problem, not the men.

She hadn’t realized how utterly exhausting the dating game would be. For the last couple of weeks, her heart hadn’t been in it, and tonight’s earlier disaster had been the last straw. She needed a good, long break from it all, and with the way she felt, it might be a permanent one. If she didn’t already have a job she loved, looking into joining a convent wouldn’t be a bad idea. That’s how much she didn’t want to go on any more dates right now.

But that’s not what this is, she thought as her gaze landed on Wolf and drank in the subtle rippling of the muscles in his back. No, this is something entirely different. Erotic and carnal with a hint of wrongness that spread through her and sizzled beneath her skin. It was exciting and thrilling and nerve-racking all at once, and she loved it.

Tonight, she’d reconnect with the young, vivacious woman she used to be. Tonight, in a hotel room, Olivia and a stranger would engage in no-name sex with no possible future. And tomorrow morning, she would have her proof that it was possible to move on after nursing a broken heart for so long, and that she could in fact connect with another man, even if only sexually. Or maybe especially sexually.

Wolf turned from the front desk and suddenly she felt like her geeky high school self, watching in nervous anticipation as the captain of the football team steadily approached her. Only this man was ten times more intimidating with his predatory gait and the raw hunger she saw swirling in his whiskey-colored eyes.

Coming to a stop in front of her, he held up a plastic key card. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice deep and hypnotic.

Squaring her shoulders to inject more confidence into her spine than she currently felt, she smiled and answered, “Absolutely.”

They walked to the elevators, waited in silence, then boarded the car and leaned against opposite walls as the doors slid closed. As they began to ascend, he studied her as though she were one of life’s great mysteries.

Why did she feel like he could see right through her? And why the hell couldn’t she read him? It was her damn job. After a few minutes of conversation with people, she could classify them and write a fairly accurate report on who they were and likely why. But for the life of her, she couldn’t get a bead on this man. He was…enigmatic. A mystery. A puzzle. Fun and flirtatious, but with an edge, like he wouldn’t shy away from danger, he’d welcome it.

So completely different from Brett in every way. Wolf was dark and massive with tanned skin and amber eyes, whereas Brett’s physique had been more streamlined—less muscular and more toned, like a runner—with a blond hair/brown eyes combo. Brett had always been the life of the party and center of attention wherever they went, and more often than not, she wouldn’t even see him until the end of the night at get-togethers with friends or family. He was like a politician, making the rounds and over-selling his excitement to see them. Though she couldn’t be sure, something told her that if Wolf had a woman, she’d never leave his sight, even if he was on the other side of the room. He had that intensity about him.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Busted. This wasn’t exactly the time for deep thoughts, but she didn’t see a reason not to be honest. “About how opposite you are from my ex.”

Wolf crossed the elevator and crowded her in the most wonderful way. She stared at the glorious triangle of bare skin where his top button had been relieved of its duty. If she stared into his eyes right now, she’d end up as a puddle on the marble floor.

“How opposite?” he rasped, tempting her to lick a path over his sexy Adam’s apple.

“Polar,” she whispered.

He placed one hand on the wall high above her head and the other on the side of her face. Olivia couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, his touch jamming the signals to her brain. “Is that a good thing?”

God, she wished she knew. “I honestly don’t know.”

Slipping his wide thumb from her cheek, he hooked it under her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. Seriously, it should be illegal for a man—especially one so rugged and wild and huge—to have eyes as beautiful as his. If she took a picture of him and erased everything but his eyes, she’d bet ten to one that people would guess they belonged to a woman. And yet when seen with the rest of him, they didn’t look the least bit feminine. Explanation? Paul Bunyan had miracle eyes.

“You trying to get over this ex of yours?”

“You could say that.”

“That’s why you’ve been going on all these dates.”

Olivia swallowed thickly. “I don’t want to think about the past anymore.”

She didn’t know if she meant her marriage with Brett or her recent dating mishaps, but the statement applied either way. Olivia only wanted to focus on the present, with this man; to live in this moment and all the ones after it until their one night came to an end. That’s what she needed from Wolf.

“Then I’m going to help you forget.” His thumb trailed over her chin, under the edge of her lower lip, the slow caress entrancing her. She swore he was about to kiss her, but then the chime signaled their floor and he pulled away.

He ushered her out and down the hall, his large hand always at her lower back. She didn’t know if he did it as a way of steering her or for reassurance, or maybe he did it with all women who walked next to him. Whatever the reason, the presence of his hand quieted her nerves a little, and at this point, she’d take what comfort she could get.

He stopped in front of room 1610 and held her gaze, tense and still like a predator waiting to pounce or back down to hunt another day. “If you want to back out, tell me now, Livvie.”

Chills of anticipation broke out over her skin. “I don’t want to back out.”

His nostrils flared the slightest bit as he pushed out a breath and gave her a slight nod of acceptance. Eyes still locked on hers, his hand ran the key card through the slot in the handle and then he held the door open for her.

Olivia stepped into a short hallway that led to the bathroom on the left and a closet on the right. In front of her, she saw the end of the bed on the left side of the room and an expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows.

That was all she had time to notice.

She heard the lock click over just before he grabbed her around the waist and pushed her back against the wall. His large hands came up to frame her face as he crushed his mouth onto hers, his tongue sweeping inside to demand its due.

Olivia clutched at the sides of his shirt as she met every ounce of his intensity with her own. He angled her head more and she reveled in his heady taste of mint and pure virility, stronger than anything she’d experienced before.

They wrenched apart, taking in greedy gasps of air. “Turn around,” he said. She faced the wall, then he stretched her arms above her head. “Keep your hands there,” he rasped next to her ear.

She nodded, unable to make her voice work, which was fine because he didn’t seem to care one way or another. He slid his hands down her bare arms. Calluses scraped her skin and left goose bumps in their wake. With her forehead on the wall, she kept her eyes closed and a corner of her lower lip pinned between her teeth.

His hands took a detour to the front and hefted each of her breasts, a barely audible groan vibrating into her back. “I can’t wait to see your breasts. I bet they’re amazing.”

“They’re nothing special.”

She winced as soon as she said it. Sure, she was nervous since a man hadn’t seen her naked in forever, but insecurity wasn’t sexy. Jesus, she was actually managing to screw up sex with a stranger. That had to be a first.

“You let me be the judge of that, gorgeous.”

He pulled down the dress’s stretchy scoop neck with both cups of her bra, pinched her nipples, and twisted. She gasped at the spear of pain that sliced through her and held her breath, not wanting to move even to empty her lungs. A taut cord of electric pleasure stretched from the tips of her breasts to the deepest recess of her sex. The raw carnality of the way his body pinned hers in place and his rock-hard erection pressed into the small of her back lit a slow burn deep in her belly, heating her from the inside out.

His big hands kneaded her heavy mounds, the sensations created by his calluses tingling through her sex. “They’re fucking perfect,” he said. “I plan on exploring those more later, but first things first. I want to know how wet you are for me.”

Embarrassingly so.

He hooked his fingers under the tight hem of her dress and pulled it up over her hips, exposing her lacey red thong. In one swift motion, he lifted her dress up and over her head. The next to go was her matching bra, tossed somewhere off to the side. Thankfully, he didn’t rip it off. She had a small addiction to expensive bra and panty sets. Her everyday wardrobe erred on the conservative side, but underneath she enjoyed wearing provocative lingerie. It made her feel sexy and gave her a little thrill knowing it was her secret. That Victoria had the right idea.

“Christ.” His curse was quiet and sounded strained, but when he spoke again, the strength in his commands had returned. “Step out of your heels.”

She complied, pushing each one back with her toes. Though she still faced away from him, Olivia sensed herself become even smaller than the giant standing behind her. If she had to guess, she’d say the top of her head might reach the top of his chest, if she was lucky.

One large hand made its way between her body and the wall, gliding up her stomach, through her cleavage, and over her collarbones. His touch set off sparks in her skin and fanned the flames growing wilder within. She tried to regulate her breathing as proof to herself that he wasn’t affecting her to the point she had no control over her body, and she almost succeeded…until his hand slid up to loosely wrap around her throat, just enough to remind her of his strength, his power.

It should have freaked her out, should have yanked her back to her senses.

Instead, she released a shuddering sigh and tipped her head back to rest against the hard muscles of his shoulder.

“That’s it, baby. Give over to me.” He gave her throat a light squeeze before his hand retreated down her body. “Tonight you’re all mine. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“That’s good. Because I take care of what’s mine, and I’m going to show you what it’s like when a man puts your pleasure first.”

Dear. God.

Without any instructions or commentary, Wolf dragged her thong down and off, then presumably tossed it over with the rest of her clothes. She bent her head to peer down her body and caught glimpses of his hands as he touched her. He remained crouched behind her and ran his hands up her calves, over the sensitive skin at the backs of her knees, and straight up her thighs to knead the globes of her ass.

His touch wasn’t gentle. His fingers dug into her flesh, his hands squeezed, his mouth tasted. She felt his hot breath bathe her skin as he dragged his face over her. A myriad of sensations made her head spin as it tried to sort them all out. Soft lips, wet tongue, scratchy beard, blunt scrapes of teeth…

Finally, Wolf turned her by her hips so that she faced him. Still crouched as he was, his face now lined up directly with her sex. She plastered herself against the wall to put as much distance between it and him, but there wasn’t any point. Going through the wall wasn’t an option, and he only moved closer.

“You’re turned on as fuck, Livvie.” His deep voice sent vibrations through her sensitive body. She squeezed her thighs together in hopes of easing the ache it left. “The proof is right here in this sweet little pussy of yours.” He swiped a thick finger through her slick folds, adding pressure as it passed over her clit, causing her hips to chase his touch and a whimper to escape her lips.

She needed him, badly—more than she could ever remember needing another man.

Wolf unfolded to his full height, banding his arms around her waist on the way up to lift her off the floor as he strode farther into the hotel room. “Let’s get more comfortable,” he said, setting her down in front of the posh microfiber couch that faced the foot of the bed. “Have a seat, gorgeous.”

She lowered herself on the center cushion, staring up at him as he unbuttoned his shirt in slow motion. Little by little, he exposed peeks of tan skin as the edges of the shirt moved back and forth with his motion. As he reached the very last button, she held her breath. She felt his eyes burning into her, but her gaze was locked onto his chest and wouldn’t let go.

Finally, he peeled the sides back and shrugged it off his large shoulders, revealing muscular perfection adorned by a set of dog tags hanging between his pecs. Damn, those were so sexy. A military boy, which meant that Wolf wasn’t just a nickname. It was his call sign, as much his name as the one given to him by his parents. The man intrigued her more and more every minute.

Despite several raised scars, Wolf had one of the finest bodies she’d ever come across, whether in movies, magazines, or other mass media. Certainly the finest she’d ever seen personally by…was saying “a million” hyperbole? She didn’t think so. A million seemed pretty accurate to her.

He had more muscles than she knew existed in the human torso. Rounded shoulders, cut pecs with dusky nipples, blocks of abs, and deep slashes over his hips angled in a V that disappeared beneath his low-slung dark jeans. And the sexy icing on the man cake was the smattering of dark hair on his chest that picked up again below his navel to form one hell of a goody trail.

The clinking of metal on metal drew her attention to his fingers undoing his belt buckle, then the button and zipper. Seemingly content to just give himself some breathing room, he let the two sides hang open and blatantly palmed his erection over his underwear, moving it up and down like he was priming a pump. Holy shit, who knew watching a man touch himself could be so hot?

“Open your legs,” he said in a gruff voice.

As she separated her legs, she pictured him loaded with gear and commanding others just as he did with her. Orders tripped off his lips naturally, and the look in his eyes said he was used to being obeyed, in the bedroom and out. The image sent another rush of wet heat between her legs.

He lightly kicked her ankles farther out, then sank to his knees and hauled her butt to the edge of the couch so her head and shoulders were braced against the back of it. When he held her open with his hands pressing out on her inner thighs, his pupils completely engulfed the bright amber of his eyes.

“Fucking amazing,” he rasped, working her folds open. He swiped his thumbs through her own lubrication and spread it over every part of her exposed sex. Sensations of rough against smooth flooded her until it was a struggle not to squirm under his touch. “Your cunt is dripping, begging me to use my tongue to lap up every drop it spills. And there’s nothing else I’d rather do right now than make you come all over my mouth.”

Holy hell. Every time he talked dirty, his words strummed over her clit, playing her as effectively as his fingers. She’d never been spoken to like that, much less had a man refer to her dripping “cunt.” She’d always thought it a vile word, but Wolf said it with a kind of reverence in his voice, and it made her impossibly wetter.

When she realized he meant to make good on his last statement and started lowering his head, she panicked. Her hands shot out from under her and pushed on the top of his head to stop him. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Wolf sat back on his heels, turning his steady gaze on her. His voice deepened and sounded gruff, barely controlled. Every bit the epitome of the wild man she imagined him to be.

She struggled with the words. Angie had always told her it was the most asinine thing a female could say, but she couldn’t help it. “I’ve never been comfortable with…that.”

“Have you ever let anyone try to change your opinion?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

A wicked grin curved his mouth. “Then you can thank me later.”

* * *

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