Chapter 24
As a reward for my flexibility in the morning, the sheriff gave me the afternoon off, which didn’t achieve much given the flow of professional photography. Taking the pictures was only half the job. A long afternoon of post-production would bleed into evening. Transferring from cards to cloud storage and sifting through photos would take hours.
What they needed from me were a few viable possibilities for each page of the calendar. Whoever was in charge would want options. Between the well-organized shoot, and the fact that my portrait skills were significantly better than I’d admitted to, the collection looked pretty good.
The photos turned up in my gallery in the order in which I’d shot them. It bought me time to delay facing my feelings for Buck. Not that saving him for last did anything to scrub him from my memory. Perusing photos of his brethren only proved how far gone I was.
I should have at least felt a flutter at Forrest Winters’ forearms and Grizz Grady’s pectorals. The collection of men I’d photographed had left nearly two dozen thirsty women panting. I was impervious to every last one of their appeal, except for Buck’s.
He was on my mind as I cropped photo after photo, applied filter after filter, and softened edge after edge. He was under my skin as I adjusted color saturation and airbrushed abs. The scent of him was in my nose as I adjusted oil-shine levels and realized with some alarm that I would never be able to have an innocent reaction to baby oil again.
And then, the moment came when the first pictures of him popped up on my roll. He’d been my easiest subject. In the initial shots, he’d held one puppy under his arm while scratching the back of another who had stood with his paws on Buck’s chest. Seated all the while, Buck had laughed and played as the full litter swarmed him excitedly. He’d needed no direction, no adjustment, nothing more than his natural way.
At some point, the handler had relieved him of all but one of his charges and the mood had shifted to serious shots. A fresh tittering of “Awwwww” had come through from the crowd. He’d stood for this set, cuddling the small dog close to his face and cooing sweet words. The contrast of his body’s incredible strength and the tiny creature’s vulnerability on display was every bit as heart-stuttering as I’d expected, every chiseled cut of his muscles now a memory that I could hold in my hands.
I can’t find a single flaw.
I scrolled through every photo in his collection, letting my eyes wash over each one, taking in details I couldn’t have stopped to notice while I was shooting: the sun lightening his hair to filaments of gold; the brightness in his eyes when one of the dogs licked him on his chin; the pout of his lips as he cooed to his canine friends.
And then there were the solo shots, the ones that would go on a back page called Meet Your First Responders. I’d taken one of each firefighter, frontal shots that were straightforward and head-on. Except the ones I’d taken of Buck were everything but. The fact that he’d been fully clothed for this one should have made it feel less sexy. But his darkened eyes pierced through the veil that separated the subject from the artist. His look felt private and just for me.
I’ve lost all perspective.
And I’d clearly lost all my sense. The next thing I knew, I was dragging the photos of Buck into a folder, then from a folder onto a thumb drive, then from a thumb drive into my hand, a hand that I slipped into the pocket of my robe. Then, I was closing my front door behind me and walking toward his, and ringing his doorbell for once. And then he was swinging it open.
I’ll date you. You win.
The most honest words I could have spoken wouldn’t make their way out of my mouth. Well...maybe not the most honest words. I could have admitted that I’d simply stopped resisting my attraction. Surrendering to what only Buck had the courage to name wasn’t the same as losing. Buck was a more than worthy prize.
“I brought your photos,” I said instead of mentioning any of that. “I put them on a drive.”
I pulled the drive out of my pocket and shoved it toward him. We’d had yet to exchange a proper greeting and Buck looked surprised. He was dressed in his Class B uniform, which told me he’d just gotten home. He smelled lightly of barbecue, but it was the faint whiff of baby oil that hit my nose when he extended his arm that did me in.
“Now you have pictures of you and your beard.”
At my mention of his facial hair, he brought his hand to his face to stroke his chin.
“For my Tinder profile...” He echoed my sentiment from earlier in the day.
“Or Hookupz, or Sidepiece, or Triple-F.”
“Triple F?” he repeated.
“Firefighter Friend Finder, which I learned today is actually a thing. And any of the other dating apps you like to use.”
He took a step toward me. “I don’t need these for an online dating profile because I already know who I want to date. And I didn’t want these pictures because I like looking at my own image. I’ve been photographed more than any one person ever should be. I wanted them because I wanted something to remind me of this day. I wanted photos taken by you.”
His intention was unmistakable, but he didn’t make a move. Like he’d said, it was up to me. But he had every part of me mixed up and I couldn’t think of a single good thing to say.
“You still smell like baby oil.”
I half expected him to lift an eyebrow and give me that amused smile he sometimes did when he thought I’d said something cute, but there wasn’t a lick of humor in his eyes.
“I was just about to shower.”
It was an engraved invitation, sent by certified mail.
“Need any help?” I whispered.
His gaze searched mine for confirmation. I couldn’t blame him for his pause. For weeks, I’d resisted his advances.
“Don’t you tease me, now.” The low growl of warning in his voice was nearly my undoing.
“Don’t you make me ask twice.”
The next thing I knew, the front door was closed and he’d pulled me inside, his arm circled possessively around my waist. He cuffed a hand behind my neck just as he had in the library, then bent down until his forehead touched mine. My palms went to his chest, gripping at his shirt as I pulled him to me with no small degree of desperation, a rush charging through me as I tipped my face upward in anticipation of his kiss.
He wasted no time bringing me even closer and crashing his lips to mine. I granted him immediate entry, famished for the taste of him and the deep stroke of his tongue. His kiss in the library had been playful; it had goaded me into feeling frisky on the heels of his shameless flirtation. It had been fresh and luscious and taken me by surprise.
But the way he laid into me now...it was wild. His mouth devouring mine was just the beginning. Soon, it was teeth tugging my bottom lip and nips on my neck and the delicious friction of our bodies, his iron grip causing his every hard plane to press into me.
I nearly yelped in surprise when I felt myself being lifted, carried easily as if plucked out of thin air. He walked us farther into the house with haste and purpose and managed somehow not to break the kiss. My head spun and swam and swelled all at once, the motion only adding to my kiss intoxication. Already, Buck had me feeling drunk.
“I’ve been waitin’ for you, girl.”
Buck’s voice cut through my haze a second before I could protest his lips pulling off of mine. Somewhere along the line, he’d hoisted me onto his hips and I’d wrapped my legs around his waist. Now, my face was above his and he gazed up at me with his ocean eyes.
“Waiting to wear me down,” I murmured with mock accusation and an eyebrow arch. But his eyes only grew softer and he gave a shake of his head as his thumb stroked my cheek.
“No, baby. Not waiting weeks for you to see how right we are for each other. Waiting years, for someone like you.”
I’d been around Buck long enough to know his “dead serious” look. Buck was dead serious about what he said. For the first time, I wanted to believe him.
He released me somehow, causing me to slide down his body in a way that let me appreciate his erection for the first time. The hard I’d felt on the rest of him all this time was his solid muscle. I’d seen enough in my garden spy missions to know I wouldn’t be disappointed by his size. It didn’t prepare me for just how big or just how hard he would feel, or how the overload of sensation would ignite my core.
Him setting me on the ground and sliding my robe off my shoulders reminded me that I’d shown up nearly naked. All the better for him to get me down to nothing quick. His lips followed his thumb as they brushed over my collarbone to begin to rid me of my extra clothes. When he untied my sash and found my thong panties with his fingers, he slid his sly gaze up to mine and threw me a half smile.
“You little minx . . .”
He tugged at the string in a way that pressed the thin triangle of fabric right up against my bits. It made me close my eyes and bite my lip and rub my legs together. How had I ever doubted this man?
From there, our progress to the shower was halting. He took an indulgent minute to suck my nipples and fondle my breasts after he got my tank top off. Undressing him was equally magnificent—inhaling the scent of him as I ran my nose over his bare chest, hearing his shuddering breath as I reached into his tight boxer briefs and took my first firm stroke. No sooner did his shorts hit the floor than he reached into his nightstand for protection and swept me up bridal-style to get us to the shower.
Under the spray, he took full advantage of being skin-to-skin, my back to his front as he lathered me up, his callused hands sliding over my hips and my stomach and my breasts with soap that smelled like him. He’d kept the water a bit cool, which only enhanced the sensation. The contrast of his body and his mouth were hot.
He ground into the top of my ass with his erection in a slow rhythm that I met with my own rocking back. When a deft finger found its way between my legs and began to tease my clit, I let out a high-pitched moan. It felt good—too good—because it had been too long and Buck was too sexy and the fire burning between us had become too hot.
“Stop,” I panted breathlessly. And he did, though my clit throbbed in protest at the loss.
“You okay?” He turned me around by my hips, but I was already looking for the condom, which I grabbed off of the soap dish hastily and pressed into his hand.
“I want you inside me when I come.”
It took him not long at all, but still too long for my impatient body, for him to rip open the packet and slide on his sheath. Afterward, he lifted me yet again, my ass in his hands as he maneuvered me so my back was against the wall. He placed himself at my entrance then bent down one final time to give my nipple a tiny suck before pushing into me in a long, glorious slide. And then...
Holy hell.
He picked up the pace, driving into me with vigor, each stroke as hard and satisfying as it was luscious and deep. His size created magnificent friction that rubbed me in all the right spots. I wanted him to do it to me for hours.
“Loretta.”
He didn’t say it to get my attention. He said it like he was losing his grip, hanging on by as thin of a thread as me. It was desperate and pleading and reverent.
Before I could answer his plea with an echo of his name, one that would have been as raw as him uttering mine, he tipped me into a rolling climax that felt like it would never end. This was more than amazing sex. It was the feeling that he was really with me, that something sacred inside each of us was coming together. And I knew that I would never be the same.