Chapter 7 Percy
SEVEN
PERCY
Larkin had texted at two a.m.
Everyone's safe. Sorry I ran.
I'd typed, Go to sleep, Lieutenant, and stayed awake for another hour, counting the minutes until I saw him again.
But today was competition day, and my breakfast was threatening to reappear. Not because I was nervous, but I'd eaten three eggs, four slices of toast, and drunk half a pot of coffee, and now I was standing in the sun wearing forty-five pounds of gear while my stomach revolted.
There’s a revolution? With pitchforks? My dragon peered through my gaze.
Don’t worry. It’s just my stomach.
I adjusted the straps on my air pack and bounced on my toes. The hose drag relay was the first event of the cup. Station 12 was in red, while blue was Station 9’s color. A crowd of locals had wandered over to watch because small-town entertainment options were limited.
The event was straightforward: a team of four had to connect a hose to the hydrant, get the water flowing, and then drag two hundred feet of the heavy, water-filled line to a target and knock it down with the spray.
The fastest team was the winner. But the hose weighed a ton once the water hit it, and controlling the nozzle when the pressure was pushing back was like arm-wrestling a bear. Or a dragon.
I was on the nozzle, so the one who had to brace against the kickback and aim. I'd been doing it for ages, and I was damned good at it.
Briggs gave me a thumbs-up. Hallie was stretching her shoulders, and Tom, our fourth, was doing that thing where he muttered to himself.
I scanned the field. Station 12 was on the other side, huddled around their lieutenant, who was talking in a low voice. For a moment, I lost focus as an image of Larkin at dinner had me gulping and sent a trail of goosebumps sprawling over my skin.
Larkin glanced up and our eyes met. A slow heat spread through me as I recalled him squeezing my shoulder at the restaurant. I could still feel it, though that might have been my imagination.
I dragged my attention to the hydrant we'd be using. I could think about Larkin's quirky grin, intense gaze and large hands after we'd won the cup.
Station 12 ran first, and they were dialed in. Their nozzle guy handled the kickback well, but he overshot the target.
Station 12's crew clapped and bumped fists when their final time was announced. But I was studying Larkin’s neutral expression. I’d decided or maybe learned at the restaurant that was his thinking face.
But I was allowing my mind to wander, picturing his different expressions. I needed to get it together because it was our turn.
I pulled on my gloves and took my position at the end of the course while Briggs, Hallie, and Tom lined up at the hydrant. Everyone was tense, and I was trying to focus, I was, but I couldn’t help wondering if Larkin would notice my ass during the event. Damn, that man was in my head.
The starter raised his hand, and I silenced the random thoughts and images. The world narrowed to the hose and the target two hundred feet away.
The whistle blew. Briggs had the hydrant open, and water filled the line.
The hose stiffened and jumped, and Hallie and Tom were hauling it toward me.
I grabbed the nozzle and braced. The force of the water would have knocked me sideways a year ago.
But I'd spent months drilling this, and I knew what to do.
The target was a metal plate mounted on a pole, and I had to knock it over with the stream. The stream hit the target in the center, and it clattered to the ground. The crowd cheered, and my crew erupted. Briggs whooped, and Hallie screamed that Station 9 was the greatest.
I dropped the nozzle and pumped my fist as my crew charged toward me. When the times were announced, we'd beaten Station 12 by three seconds.
Three seconds didn't sound like much, but in a hose drag relay, it was huge. Briggs lifted me off the ground in a hug, and Hallie slapped my helmet.
“That's how it's done!” Captain Reynolds clapped from the sidelines.
The handshake line was next where both teams filed past each other, saying “Nice work.” When Larkin reached me, he gripped my hand, but his gaze held mine perhaps a tad longer than the others. The heat from his body sizzled up my arm, and I didn’t want to let go.
He grazed my knuckle. Was that just for me? Did he do that to all of my team members? And when he released it, I missed the contact and wanted to double back in line and shake his hand again.
“Good run.” I barely heard the words but concentrated on his mouth and was tempted to plant my lips on his.
“Thanks.” I couldn’t say anything else, especially not, “Meet me later so we can get naked.”
After the formalities, both crews milled around, rehydrating and replaying every second of the event. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a pleasant muscle ache and knowing our hard work had preceded a win.
But I needed air. Not the fresh breeze that was billowing over me because we were outside. Nope, I needed space from the teams, onlookers, and the noise, as well as the effort of pretending I wasn’t following Larkin’s every move.
“I’m getting more water.” Nobody was paying me any attention as I strode behind the row of equipment trucks parked at the edge of the field.
There was a cooler in Station 9's truck, and I grabbed a bottle and pressed the cold plastic against my forehead. The sun was brutal, and I was sweltering because my turnout gear was trapping heat.
I was tossing water over my head as I picked up footsteps on the gravel behind me. There was no need to turn around because his scent reached me first, and my dragon was vibrating again.
“You're following me.” I was almost crushing the water bottle.
“No, I needed water.” Larkin reached into the cooler. “Your truck happened to be closer.”
“Your station’s truck is right there.” I pointed to the red engine parked twenty feet away.
“Yours has better water.” He unscrewed the cap and drank, and him swallowing and droplets dribbling over his chin had my body heating up another ten degrees. My mouth gaped at how hot and sexy swallowing had become.
“You did well out there.” Why was I talking about the competition when he was maybe an inch behind me with his warm breath on my neck?
“We lost.”
Well, yeah, obviously. “By three seconds.” I didn't know why I was consoling the competition, except that the man beside me wasn't just that. The agreement we’d made about waiting until the cup final was blurring and almost invisible.
Larkin set the bottle on the truck bed. “I should have had him practice in the wind.”
“You can't control the wind.” For heaven’s sake, I didn’t give a damn about wind, or a damn tornado. Instead, I was picturing his hands hovering over my hips, ready to twist me around.
“I can prepare for it.”
He hadn’t touched me, and I longed for him to press against my butt and nuzzle me, maybe whisper in my ear.
I swung around. “Stop talking, please.”
His woodsmoke aroma filled my nostrils and taunted me, and my skin was so hot I expected sparks, but he pulled me close, and when his lips met mine, everything inside my head vanished.
His lips were so soft and yet the kiss was firm. There were no hints as to what lay ahead, unless I counted his arousal pressed on my engorged cock. I gripped his shirt because I wanted all of him, but also my knees were wobbly.
Larkin cupped my ass and squeezed. Oh shoot, I needed more, as in both of us naked, fingers and lengths in holes and mouths. I wanted all of him. I whimpered, and he bit my lower lip, just enough for me to experience a sliver of pain, matched with desire.
He pulled back and rested his forehead on mine. “You were incredible out there.”
I harrumphed. “Hey, I’m an incredible kisser too. You should be complimenting me on that technique too.” I’d just locked lips with the opposing team's lieutenant after beating him in a competition. It wasn’t the best time to be snarky.
“You kissed the enemy.”
“Apparently.” He was trailing kisses along my jaw, making it difficult to think. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“Your crew is around the corner.”
“So is yours.”
His scent was on my skin, in my lungs, and soaked into the fabric of my gear. I stroked his cheek as voices drifted from the other side of the trucks.
I smoothed my hair as if that would erase the last few minutes. “I need to get back before Briggs sends a search party.”
Larkin nodded and straightened his collar. “Percy. You were incredible.”
He walked away. Now that wasn’t fair. Was he referring to my kissing ability or manhandling the hose?
I leaned against the truck and told myself to breathe. Me and Larkin trying to keep apart was getting more complicated. We had one event completed, two to go, and a secret to keep.