Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
It’d been four days since they’d gone axe throwing, and Laurel still couldn’t get Jake’s words out of her head.
“You’ve never been with a bad boy, Laurel. But you want to. With me.”
She groaned and tossed the kitchen towel she was holding onto the counter by the stove. Today was the last day of school. She loved her job, but by the time summer rolled around, she was ready for a break. It’d only been a four-day week, with today being a half-day. To celebrate, she’d decided to make fried chicken, instead of eating one of her premade meals. Call it a late lunch or early dinner, she really didn’t care which, because she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was starving. Plus, it was something to focus on other than a certain hot fireman.
Yeah, good luck with that.
The chicken still had a way to go until it was done. At least, she thought so. She’d never made it before, but having to concentrate on a new recipe had kept her brain occupied and off of Jake.
She walked around the kitchen table to her couch and flopped down on the cushions. Her apartment was small, but the cheaper rent made the lack of extra space worth it, since she was trying to save money to buy a house.
Her parents had pointed out multiple times she’d already own one if she was on a college professor’s salary—another dig at her choice to stay at the grade school—but she didn’t care. She’d almost saved up enough for a decent down payment and hoped to be able to start house shopping next summer after the school year ended.
She sank into the throw pillows on the couch with a sigh. The school year had ended on a Thursday this year, for which she’d never been more grateful. The kids had been wired higher than a power station today, and another day of summeritus crazy would probably have been the death of her.
Still, it was a little sad knowing they’d be moving on, and she wouldn’t have them in her class next year. She always got attached to her students, and this year was no different. One of the bittersweet parts of her job... missing their little faces smiling back at her from their desks. But she’d still get to see them, since they’d be at the same school next year. That was a perk of teaching first grade. She had five more years of running into them in the halls. She honestly didn’t know how Amy handled teaching sixth grade. When her kids moved on, they went to the junior high miles away.
Laurel had a handful of weeks to sleep in before she began tutoring a few kids on the side. Last year, some of her students’ parents had asked if they could hire her for one-on-one summer sessions with their children. Since she hadn’t had anything planned while school was out of session, she’d said yes. A few other parents had heard about it, and instead of the two children she’d tutored last summer, this year, she’d be working with five. It was actually perfect. It gave her something to occupy her time, since she always went a little stir-crazy during the summer months, and she could put extra money toward her house fund.
The only real responsibility she had before tutoring started was working on invitations for a fundraising dinner her mom was co-chairing with a colleague from the college. They were raising money for a scholarship fund, and since Laurel had taken up calligraphy as a hobby in high school, her mom had put her penmanship skills to work.
Not that Laurel minded. Spending time addressing two-hundred-fifty invitations was a lot better than getting suckered into being on the decorating committee. Aside from doing the invitations—which she’d already finished—she only had to make an appearance at the fundraiser to appease her parents, and that would conclude her “Mom” obligations.
Laurel closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and started rubbing her temples. She loved her mom, but got quite enough “advice” seeing her as often as she did. If she’d had to spend more captive time with her doing extensive decorating, it would’ve been exhausting. There were only so many times you could hear how bad your career choices were before it got to you.
She was already drained listening to her dad razz her about her almost-wedding every time she saw him. She shouldn’t let it bother her, but the Chinese water torture was designed to wear its victims down slowly, until they cracked. And Laurel felt like she was about to crack.
She was afraid to imagine what her parents would say if they knew she was dating a firefighter. Doctors, lawyers, high-powered executives… that’s who she was supposed to be with. Not a blue-collar public servant like a fireman. Never mind the fact they put their lives on the line every day to save said doctors and lawyers and everyone else who needed help. According to her parents, if a guy didn’t have a fancy degree and a six-figure salary, he wasn’t worth her time.
Laurel groaned and covered her face with her hands. When did her parents become such snobs? Had they always been that way, and she’d just never noticed it when she was young? She may be a huge disappointment in their eyes, and that was fine, but she wouldn’t stand for them putting down Jake. Not that she’d ever let her parents meet him. She and Jake weren’t even in a serious relationship, so why would she introduce him to her parents anyway?
Ugh, get a grip. We’re not in a relationship at all, let alone a serious one.
They’d only been on two dates, which hardly constituted a relationship. And did axe throwing even count as a second date, since Emery had coerced him into going?
But he had kissed her—wow, had he kissed her—and insinuated doing a lot more than that, so…
With a frustrated sigh, she rolled over and face-planted into the couch cushions, whimpering “fudgesicles” as her vivid imagination filled in the blanks.
What in bells is wrong with me? I can’t fall for the bad boy.
But was he really a bad boy?
“Do you want to know what I’m thinking, Laurel?”
Remembering the heat in his eyes when he’d asked that made her core clench, and she tingled all the way to her toes.
Heck, yes, she’d wanted to know what he’d been thinking! If she was a braver person, she’d have made him tell her all the dirty things occupying his mind—she’d imagined they’d been dirty. At least, she’d hoped they’d been dirty. Then she’d have made him act them out. With her.
Cranberries! This is ridiculous!
Jake was a flirt. A self-professed bad boy. Did she really want a relationship with him? Did bad boys even do relationships? Maybe he was strictly in it for the sex, even though she’d been telling him from the beginning she wasn’t going to sleep with him.
Then I melt in his arms every time he kisses me. If that’s not a mixed message, I don’t know what is.
To be fair, she hadn’t had sex in two years. Why? Because she hadn’t been with anyone she’d wanted to share that with. Heck, the last guy she’d slept with, she probably shouldn’t have. She’d known the relationship wasn’t going to last. She’d just wanted to feel… wanted.
Well, that’d ended up being a colossal flop, exactly like her entire disaster of a relationship with Ethan. It’d been four years since she’d walked out of the rehearsal dinner, and here she was, still doubting herself. Not why she’d called off the wedding, but rather why she hadn’t been enough for him to keep it in his pants.
Maybe her entire fascination with Jake boiled down to her hormones raging out of control after a long, self-imposed hibernation. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stop thinking about him naked.
Get real. That’s butter brickle, and you know it.
Laurel rolled over and landed on her back with a bounce. She couldn’t deny it… she wanted Jake. Wanted him more than any man she’d ever been with. For the millionth time, she wondered what he’d be like as a lover. After some of the comments he’d made, she imagined he’d be demanding, dominant, and skilled at making her come with a heated look and the flick of his tongue.
She shivered and let out a stuttering breath. Thinking about Jake doing anything—and everything—with his tongue had her wound so tightly, it was entirely possible she could suffer permanent damage if she didn’t get some relief.
Okay, maybe that was a touch melodramatic, but for goodness’ sake, her panties were damp, and he wasn’t even in the room!
Giving in to her baser instincts, she lifted her hips and pushed her sweats and panties down her legs before letting her hand drift between her thighs.
As soon as she closed her eyes, Jake appeared above her wearing nothing but his signature smirk. Every muscled, sexy inch of him was on display... and we’re talking every inch!
He kissed her, long and deep, his tongue mating with hers as he tweaked and plucked at her nipples. When he took one taut peak into the warmth of his mouth, she whimpered before losing herself to the delicious sensations as he moved from one breast to the next.
Her pulse kicked when he kissed his way down her body until his hot breath warmed her already wet center. Parting her folds, he ran his tongue along her slit before concentrating on her swollen nub, flicking and circling, making her pant with need. Continuing the assault with his tongue, he sank a finger into her warmth, pumping in and out. He drove her closer and closer to the edge, until she was shaking and begging for release. Then he moved back up her body, wrapped her legs around his waist, and?—
The blaring screech of a fire alarm ripped Laurel out of her fantasy. She shot upward, lost her balance, and tumbled off the couch to land with a thud on the floor. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she fought to get her bearings. Billowing smoke above her head made the hairs on her arms and back of her neck stand on end, and her heart practically had a—well—coronary.
Scrambling to her feet, she yanked up her underwear as she frantically looked for the source of the smoke. She was sickened to find the towel she’d tossed onto the counter must’ve landed too close to the burner and ignited, and now both it, the pan of fried chicken, and a small section of the wall behind the stove were in flames.
She nearly fell over when she tried to walk because her sweats had turned into shackles around her ankles. Instead of fighting with them, she stepped on the material and pulled her feet free one by one, then dashed into the kitchen.
She remembered reading somewhere you weren’t supposed to put water on a grease fire, since it would only make it worse. Thankfully, she kept a fire extinguisher under the sink. Swinging open the cabinet door, the only things inside were a garbage can and cleaning supplies. Where was the fire extinguisher?
Flipping fudge!
She’d gotten rid of the extinguisher after it’d expired, but hadn’t replaced it yet.
Cursing her uncharacteristic procrastination, she looked around for something to smother the fire. The lid of the frying pan was in the lower cabinet to the left of the stove. Maybe if she could cover the pan, it would help stop the fire from spreading further. She quickly fished out the lid, doing her best to stay as far away from the fire as possible while still being able to reach the lid.
She heard the flames pop right before an errant spark landed on the bare skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up. She jerked upright, accidentally bashing the lid into a half-full glass of water sitting next to the stove. It crashed onto the counter, splashing water on the fire. Instead of extinguishing the fire, there was a huge whoosh, and grease splattered everywhere. Laurel screamed and held her arms up to protect her face, but some of the scalding grease landed on her forearm. She cried out and dropped the lid. It clattered to the floor as the splatters on the wall ignited, and the flames spread.
There wasn’t a backsplash behind the stove, just old wallpaper. The peeling paper acted like an accelerant, coaxing the fire to spread faster as the flames greedily consumed it.
In the midst of the chaos, someone started banging on her door.
“Laurel!”
She ran from the kitchen as flames followed the pattern of grease, licking further up the wall at an alarming rate.
The pounding on the door continued while she frantically searched for her phone.
“Laurel, are you in there?”
It was her neighbor, Mr. Wilkins. He was a sweet man who was probably in better shape at sixty-eight, than she was. She’d seen him leave to go jogging nearly every day, while most of her exercise came from sitting up to reach the television remote.
“Laurel?”
His apartment was right next door, on the other side of their shared wall.
Oh my gosh!
The fire could burn through to his side if it wasn’t contained soon.
It could burn the entire building down!
“I’m okay!” Laurel shouted, finally tracking down her phone. She dialed 911. “I’m calling the fire department!”
“They’re already here,” he shouted back.
Already here? Goodness, how long had she been out of it doing?—
“You need to get out, Laurel!” Mr. Wilkins shouted.
Holy snickerdoodles!
Her apartment was on fire because she’d been doing… she’d been getting herself…
Fudge! I’m not wearing any pants!
She couldn’t open the door in her underwear, so she hurried to retrieve her sweats. The front door burst open before she’d reached them. Diving behind the couch, she crawled around to the other side, as firemen flooded the room.
She heard Mr. Wilkins shout, “My neighbor’s in there,” and knew she didn’t have time to pull on her sweats, so she snatched the throw blanket off the couch instead.
She’d barely finished wrapping it around herself before a fireman in full turnout gear appeared at her side. When he grasped her arm and hauled her to her feet, she yelped, struggling to hold onto the blanket.
“Ma’am, you’ve gotta get—” The fireman stopped abruptly. “Laurel?”
Goosebumps skated along her flesh. She whipped her head up to see Jake remove his helmet and yank off his mask.
Recognition and something else warred in his eyes. “We need to get you out of here.” He started to drag her to the front door, but her feet caught in the blanket, making her stumble.
She tried to unravel it, tugging and kicking at the material.
“Leave the blanket,” Jake ordered.
With no pants? I don’t think so!
Another second or two, and she’d be free.
“Laurel, now!” Jake snatched the blanket away, leaving her exposed from the waist down, save for a pair of tiny, bright red satin panties that Skye had given her for her birthday. Cartoon cats and the words “sex kitten” were printed all over them.
Jake’s gaze raked down her body, before traveling back up to meet hers. The heat smoldering in his eyes made her shiver despite the flames behind her.
Before she could utter a word, he slipped an arm through the straps of his mask and helmet, hoisted her off her feet, and carried her out of the apartment. He didn’t stop or put her down until they were completely outside the building.
Stuffing his gloves into the pockets of his jacket, he cradled her face. “Are you okay?” he asked in a gruff voice.
She nodded, shivering under his scrutiny, but it was the look in his eyes, not the cool air on her bare legs, that made her tremble. The worry she understood, but…
“Laurel, answer me.”
“I’m fine,” she confirmed. “I’m okay.”
“Thank fuck.” He kissed her without warning. Quick and hard.
She was a little dazed when their lips parted, so it took her a few seconds to notice he was looking down. The way his eyes were burning a hole through her underwear made her feel like she wasn’t wearing any at all.
“‘Sex kitten,’ huh?”
“Oh, my heck!” Mortified, she tugged down the front of her shirt to cover as much as she could, fully aware she was providing an unobstructed view of her back side to everyone else who was standing outside.
“You been holding out on me, sex kitten?” Jake asked with an amused grin.
“These aren’t mine!”
He raised his brows.
Fudge! That sounds horrible! Now he thinks I’m wearing someone else’s underwear.
“I mean, they’re mine,” she stammered. “I don’t wear other people’s underwear.”
Laurel felt like a bug under a microscope as Jake watched her die a slow death from embarrassment.
“Skye gave them to me.”
She was so rattled, it barely registered when he led her to an ambulance a few yards away. A female paramedic was standing next to it, going through the contents of a bag.
“But they’re not hers!” Laurel quickly pointed out.
“Tori, you got a blanket?” Jake asked the paramedic, while Laurel continued pleading her case.
“They were a gift, I swear!” Why in bells did she ever put the darn things on in the first place? It hadn’t been a conscious decision; she’d grabbed them out of the drawer after her shower and hadn’t thought twice about it. “An unwanted gift,” she added for good measure.
Jake took the blanket from Tori and wrapped it around Laurel’s shoulders.
“I think they’re hot,” he said, pulling the sides of the material together in front of her so she could hold it. His fingers brushed against her breasts in the process.
She sucked in a sharp breath and protectively crisscrossed the blanket across her chest. She didn’t know if the contact had been accidental or not, but it still made her tremble and her never-wearing-them-again-hussy-panties damp.
Desire and shame collided when she realized she was standing next to the man she’d been fantasizing about while she’d been…
Her humiliation meter hit overload. She took a quick step back, refusing to look at him. Her cheeks were burning hotter than the flames inside, so she knew she had to be red as the firetruck they were standing behind in the parking lot. She could probably make a lobster look pale.
Wait. Firetruck?
“Is Mr. Wilkins okay?” she asked, finally remembering where she was. She started scanning the immediate area, searching for him. “Is everybody okay?”
“I’m sure everyone’s fine,” he told her. “Your neighbor called when he smelled smoke, and that was before the fire alarm went off.”
No wonder the fire department had gotten here so quickly. Well, that and the fact the fire station was only a few miles away.
Relief flooded her when she saw Mr. Wilkins and some of her other neighbors on the far side of the parking lot.
Thank goodness they were safe.
“Oh, fudgsicles!” The reality of the situation finally slapped her in the face. “The building is burning down because of me!”
“The building’s not burning down,” he assured her in a soothing tone. “I’m sure they’ve got it under control, if it isn’t already out.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He brushed an errant strand of blue out of her eyes. “It would’ve been easier to give me your address, though. You didn’t have to start a fire to get me to come over.”
Her jaw dropped. She must’ve looked like a broken nutcracker with it gaping open like it was. “What? I never! I would never!”
“Don’t worry. It can be our little secret.”
“Jake! I didn’t?—”
“It’s okay. I won’t tell.”
“Oh, my heck! I did not?—”
“Tori, check her out, would you?”
“I’m fine,” Laurel protested.
“I don’t care,” Jake countered, but the statement didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re getting checked out.”
“Really, it’s not nec?—”
“Laurel.” His stern expression and it-doesn’t-matter-what-you-say-it’s-happening tone dared her to argue.
“It’s protocol,” Tori said.
“Keep her here,” Jake told Tori. He donned his gloves and started to put his mask on. “I’m going back in.”
“Wait, Jake!” Laurel dropped one side of the blanket to grab his arm. “I thought you said the fire was out.”
“It probably is,” he hedged. “I just wanna be sure.”
“Yeah,” Tori piped up. “A fire can double in size about every thirty seconds if you don’t knock it out.”
“What?” Laurel shrieked.
Jake pinned Tori with a way-to-go look.
“You never told me that!” Laurel did not want Jake going back in there if it was dangerous.
Of course, it’s dangerous, dodo head! He fights fires!
Consciously, Laurel knew that. Firefighters had one of the most dangerous jobs there was. Still, she couldn’t help asking, “Are you sure it’s safe?” The thought of him getting hurt made her stomach twist.
“I’ll be fine, Princess. This is what I do. But it’s nice to know you can’t live without me.”
She blinked. “I never said?—”
“Stay put,” he ordered. His gaze dropped to her bare skin. “And wrap back up.” The blanket had fallen off one shoulder, exposing her legs again. “I’d say no one gets to see your underwear but me,” he told her in a low voice, “but that would be presumptuous.” Taking a step closer, he added, “But I am a bad boy, so fuck it.”
The possessive look in his eyes held her captive, banishing the air from her lungs.
“No one gets to see your underwear but me.”