Chapter 11 #2
The handsome man had cleaned up the kitchen and was standing with a towel tossed over his shoulder, his hands under the faucet and his hair swept into his face.
No one of the male species should look so edible during a simple chore.
No one. Another series of lurid thoughts plagued my mind.
Now was definitely the time to have a heart to heart with him.
Heat swept my face and became an instant beacon because Steel sensed I’d entered the room.
He placed the last plate on the dishrack and twisted his body, his eyes fixated on mine but only for a few seconds.
With a slow and steady gaze that appeared as if he was undressing me, with every inch traveled, his body stiffened more.
Then he nodded to the small island.
Two drinks and a bottle of whiskey.
“Where did you find that?” I moved further into the room.
“I know where Jasper keeps a bottle for personal consumption.” He turned toward me, drying his hands and tossing the towel. “I thought you could use something to help you relax.”
“You have no idea.”
We ended up on the opposite sides of the island. I was nervous around him, which was completely unlike every other time I’d been in the room with him. Maybe because through my son’s jabbering, I’d learned quite a lot about the mysterious smokejumper.
He was close to his family. He’d been born in Missoula. He had a degree in finance, which seemed to fascinate my son. But not nearly as much as when Steel had explained the work of being a smokejumper. And I knew his likes and dislikes in everything from pizza to suspense movies.
The two boys had the same tastes in several things.
Using a single finger, he pushed a glass in my direction, the corners of his mouth upturning as he did.
I grabbed the glass, pulling the rim to my lips while refusing to take my eyes off him.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” he asked before taking a swallow.
“I’m just curious if you ever shave.”
His laugh was deep, far too husky and a tremor pulsed between my legs. “You don’t like this?” He scrubbed his jaw and I wanted to be the one rubbing my hands on the thick bristles.
“Makes you look… dangerous.”
“Well, then. I just might have to keep it.”
I finally took a sip then another, thankful for the slight burn of the cheap liquor.
Through dinner, nothing had been awkward, likely because my son had monopolized the conversation. Now I was tingling, my stomach full of butterflies and my condition should be because of what I needed to confess. That wasn’t the case and I couldn’t lie to myself any longer.
He took another swallow, almost finishing half the glass. The air in the room was thick and the only thing I could concentrate on was the rise and fall of his extraordinary chest.
The look of Steel was different than before when we’d been navigating a seven-year-old who’d suddenly found a best friend in a hero who’d saved his life.
Steel’s jaw seemed sharper than before, his mouth set in a permanent pout. His thick hair remained tousled from his fight with fire but sexier, as if he’d run his long, thick fingers through the crown. And every breath he took was labored.
Ground rules were needed, although neither of us had any idea what to say now that the facade of family was gone. I’d never felt so uncomfortable around anyone, let alone a man. I’d learned to come out swinging in almost every circumstance.
He took another gulp of his drink. Then another.
Until the glass was empty. With an exaggerated last swallow, he lowered the ugly green rocks glass to the counter.
It was now or never to come clean about my reason for arriving in Missoula. “Steel. We should talk.”
“Why?”
A good question. “Because there are some things you need to know.” I hadn’t noticed he’d moved until he was only a foot in front of me without the island in between.
He stopped long enough to take a deep breath, using the time he held the intake to decide whether to allow me to speak.
When he exhaled, the skin on my neck was tickled from the brush of air dancing across my skin.
Unblinking, he inched close enough to take the glass from my hand.
Without looking, he set mine beside his, and for some reason, all I could think about was how mismatched the two were.
Just like the two of us.
“You know what?” he asked with a tone that resonated through every synapse in my brain. “I know everything I need to about you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The back of his hand rubbed across the base of my jaw before he cupped my chin. While his fingers pressed into my skin, his hold wasn’t painful but possessive. He closed the distance, peering down at me with soulful eyes that could easily cut through glass.
“Yeah, I do.”
The correct statement that this was a very bad idea was on the tip of my tongue.
And he even gave me the opportunity to back out by slowly lowering his head. But I didn’t say a word because I didn’t want to.
After another slight hesitation, his lips a whisper from mine, he captured my mouth.
I don’t know if I couldn’t remember when I’d last been kissed or if my brain had shut down completely after the fiery incident. Whatever the case, the moment his lips were pressed against mine, I was utterly lost to the point of surrendering. To my emotions.
To my desires.
To the man. Completely.
Passion wasn’t anything I’d expected or wanted, but as he pulled me into his arms, my entire body was swooning.
Dark eyes.
Rough hands.
Soft lips.
The combination was irresistible, enough so I wrapped all ten fingers around his shirt, pulling myself closer.
With the heat of his body oppressive, I swooned, especially when he shifted his hand to the back of my neck.
In another possessive move, he dragged me onto my tiptoes while sweeping his tongue inside.
My body molded perfectly against his, the throb between my legs more intense than before as I discovered how difficult breathing was around him.
He wasn’t daunted as I struggled in his arms, his hold firm and strong.
Just like the man.
He dominated not only my tongue but every inch of me, pushing the small of my back against the edge of the counter. As he pressed the full weight of his body against mine, I was provided with a clearcut understanding of his thoughts.
His cock was hard as a rock, throbbing in the same erratic way as my pussy.
The tiny voice inside my head reminded me about all the reasons this was a bad idea. What did I do? Instead of pushing him away, I crawled my fingers up his chest, feeling every ripple in his carved muscles.
His tongue explored every inch of my mouth, so passionate I couldn’t see clearly, so controlling I doubted I could stop him.
Even if I wanted to.
As soon as I rolled my hand over his shoulder, another tiny shudder left my system. He was hard as a rock in all the right places. But his thick locks were soft when I tangled my fingers in them.
I found myself shifting back and forth, enjoying the friction. He wasn’t interested in letting go, his fingers digging into my skin as he held me, the kiss long past being intimate, turning into something predatory.
As if he was claiming me.
I was floored how easy it was to succumb to him, both of us crazed in our actions. Maybe I was being playful. Maybe the guilt of keeping my full identity from him was getting to me, but I pushed him away. The move was so unexpected that he tumbled backwards.
I hadn’t thought him dramatic, but I was wrong. He acted as if he was about to fall to the floor, barely catching himself on the edge of the counter a few feet away. Now his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession while he tore my clothes off with his eyes.
Maybe I hadn’t been prepared for his determination or his mischievous actions, so when he took a single long stride toward me, grabbing my arm, I was as surprised as he’d been.