In the Firelight (10 page)

“Yeah, I am. But, seriously... Holy fuck," she continued to gaze at him with a starry-eyed expression. "When you showed up at Michelle’s, I was trying so hard to stay pissed at you for earlier, to keep my distance from you. But you just kinda made me go all...
Uhhh…
” She looked down, studying her fingers as they traced the zipper on his coat. "I just kinda... melted. That pissed me off even more. I shouldn't be telling you this, though. You have enough Snowcreek groupies going all bonkers over you all the time. I doubt your ego really needs anymore fluffing."

"I don't think I’ve ever met anyone who has tried so hard to be pissed at me,” he murmured softly as his hand brushed along her cheek. “You tend to bring my ego back down to earth.” He touched his forehead to hers, drawing a rush of breath from deep in her chest.

“Rhys,” she whispered, “don’t kiss me again. You’re too hard to push away.”

She could feel the battle inside him, the tensing muscles and the steeled resolve.

“I know I shouldn’t,” he said softly. “I keep replaying that last kiss, though. The sweet taste of your lips. Fuck, sweetheart. You make me so… hungry.”

The fingers softly brushing her cheek set every nerve of her body on fire, and a shallow exhalation shuddered in her chest, leaving her body in short, gaspy breaths.

“Oh fuck,” Shea whispered. Almost of their own accord, her arms fumbled to his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, and she pulled herself up to him to press her lips against his.

For a moment, Rhys didn’t move, as though he was completely shocked by her actions. Shea pushed her tongue into his mouth and whimpered as her hands tangled in his hair.

And then he wrapped himself around her, pushing her slightly back to lie on the bed. His solid weight body crushed hers, firm against her softness. His strong arms pulled her tightly to him, one hand rising to cup her cheek, holding her lips steady as he plundered her mouth like a starving man. Shea’s legs spread to accommodate his hips, and she pushed up against his groin. She could feel the growing hardness of his shaft, and she moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he murmured against her lips. “That moan… I swear I heard you make that same fucking sound last night.”

With a gasp, Shea ducked her head to his shoulder. Her trembling fingers grasped the flannel of his shirt as he pressed her into the softness of the bed. She lay there trembling beneath him, her breathing harsh, rushed, panting with the frenzied sensations coursing through her.

Rhys pulled back and leaned up slightly, looking down to study her. She shut her eyes, unable to gaze into his eyes, to see the want she felt radiating off of him. Part of her was begging for him to kiss her again; part of her was terrified that he actually might. At the last second, just when she thought he might give in, his body tensed for a moment and then he was gone.

Shea looked up at him as he stepped back and scrubbed his hands over his face. She lay there with her legs dangling over the side of the bed and her hand grasped at her chest, almost as though the pressure could slow her pounding heart and her ragged breathing. Her body screamed for him to come back, to touch her, to kiss her and hold her.

But, even in her highly intoxicated state, her brain stopped her from moving towards him again, from speaking. Even when he looked back over at her, oozing with desire. Even when she ached to feel his fingers skate down her ribs, to caress her heavy breasts.

She had to stop this. She barely knew this man. This wasn’t her…

“You should take your coat off,” Rhys said quietly, “and your boots. But, sweetheart, as much as I hate to make you sleep in jeans, you should probably leave the rest of that on.”

Shea nodded, weakly pushing herself to sit upright. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t speak.

“Actually, just a sec…” He crossed over to his suitcase and pulled out a pair of long johns. “These might be more comfortable. And you’ll still be fully clothed.”

Shea took the soft thermal clothing from him, and he helped her up so she could stumble into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, more to lock herself in than to lock him out.

Good Christ, she’d probably do anything he asked at the moment.

As Shea disappeared into the bathroom, Rhys took a few deep breaths. He was hard as a fucking rock, but he really had to get control of himself. He was here to do a job. Granted, she
was
the job, but it was still a job, and he had to keep it straight in his mind. Reaching into the mini-fridge, he grabbed a couple bottles of water and opened one, taking a long drink before setting them on the dresser. He pulled off his coat and kicked off his heavy Sorel boots, scooting them over by the door. Undoing the buttons of his flannel shirt, he slipped it off his shoulders, deciding to retain the heather gray t-shirt underneath.

He wanted so badly to throw her back down on the bed. There was such a pull towards her, unlike anything he’d ever known. More than anything in the world right now, he wanted to strip her down and fuck her senseless.
Patience, Rhys… patience.
He had to take it slow. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t act tonight. With her inebriation, regret and resentment would give her even more reason to pin people against him.

The click of the bathroom door drew his eyes to her, and he about swallowed his tongue.
She was way to fucking sexy to be real!
The ivory thermal fabric hugged her curves, stretched across her breasts and tapered down her narrow waist. Her auburn hair tumbled down her back to end just above the curve of her luscious ass. Rhys groaned as she walked past him to set her clothes on a chair, and the sound drew her eyes up to his.

He was frozen for a moment, lost in their dark-fringed hazel depths.

Shit.

He should have taken her home.

Rhys cleared his throat and looked towards the bed.

“There’s some water here, if you’re thirsty at all. Why don’t you, um… get into bed,” he mumbled. “I’m going to go and change.” His focus shifted to the light nip of her teeth on her swollen lips, complete with a faint tremble. He could still taste her kiss. “I won’t put the moves on you, sweetheart,” he said, closing his eyes and turning his head slightly away. “I’m not going to lie to you. I do want you. Really. Fucking. Bad. But you’re drunk, and I’ll behave myself.” He grabbed a pair of flannel sleep pants and made his way to the bathroom to change.

Hard as a rock.
Jesus Christ… he needed to get this under control.
She was affecting him way more than she should. More than he should allow her to. As much as he wanted her, he knew it was wrong. He wouldn’t be able to do his job if he lost control now.

A shower… maybe a shower.

He flicked on the water and stripped down. As he began to soap up, his mind traitorously shifted back to Shea. The warm water relaxed him, but his thoughts wandered.

Fuck…

The way she affected him was unnerving.
She was the job.
He had to remember that, to keep that in the forefront of his mind. But he thought of her impassioned voice tonight at the meeting. Her concern, not just for herself and her own land, but all those people in the room was so evident… powerful. In that moment, he had battled between the guilty knowledge of why he was here and a sheer pride in her bravery to stand up for her community.

And she was right. Absolutely. Her town would never be the same when McHugh was done. The people who had been so welcoming, this little community that seemed to thrive in its isolated little bubble of the world, would not survive the resort.

She was smart to not want that. Smarter than she knew. He tried to focus on that, on how mad she was going to be, how much she was going to hate him. He attempted to dwell on every horribly negative thing that crossed his mind, but instead he remembered how incredible it had felt to press his lips to hers, to envelope her into his body and lose himself in her kiss once more.

Rhys, don’t kiss me again…

Her soft voice echoed in his mind as his soapy hands slid over his body.

But then, she had kissed
him
. Passionately and demanding.

His fingers tingled with the sensation of having his hands on those lovely little curves. He had simply ached to nip at the pulse beating wildly at her throat. To feel her hands on him, skimming down his ribs to grasp his throbbing cock. Her breathy moan echoed through his brain.
How would she sound as he sunk deeply inside her?

Fuck.

Of their own volition, his soapy fingers took hold of his aching length. He squeezed harshly, trying to draw away the desire, but his subconscious need was stronger and he began to slide his hands over the smooth hardness.

The firm grip of his slippery, soapy hand made him groan as he closed his eyes and pictured Shea’s soft lips, eliciting a powerful shudder. Just the thought of her little mouth taking him in, suckling and drawing on his length. The oddly sexy little sprinkling of freckles on her nose as her head bobbed over him, licking up his length like a motherfucking ice cream cone.

His hand began to move faster.

Her skin was so soft, warm and smooth in its pale porcelain tone. To see her bare before him. To spread her legs wide and plunge into her. To hear her moan and sob as she came apart around him. Rhys groaned as he hit the pinnacle, and his knees almost buckled with relief as he spewed into the hot stream of water. A few more rough tugs, and he was completely spent.

Beating off in the shower like a teenager.

Nice.

He hadn’t done that in years.

At least he’d now be able to go back out into the room with Shea without the all-too-obvious tenting of his flannel pants.

He took his time to brush his teeth, using every moment to talk himself down, to cool himself off, to calm his breathing and his rapid pulse.

Finally he opened the door to see her curled up far on the side of the bed, facing the wall, a pillow bolstered up against her back.

Fuck, and just like that, he was getting hard all over again.

Even with the thickness of the pillow between them, her fresh scent surrounded him as he lay down on the empty side of the bed. The sound of her shaky breathing caressed his senses and fired him back up. He lay there for entirely too long, wide awake and hard as hell, listening to her alcohol-soaked body slowly drift off to sleep.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter 8 ~ The Escape

Shea’s eyes fluttered open, blinking in confusion at the unfamiliar room around her. One of the rental cabins. She’d been in them a few times over the years for various reasons. She had even slept in one once, the summer after her senior year when she’d drank a little too much at a party and ended up here with her soon-to-be husband, Gavin. That one had two beds, though, she remembered, as a newly married Michelle and Robert had snagged the other. That all seemed like so long ago.

She slowly became aware of the heavy arm around her waist. The pillow she’d placed behind her back was long gone. She felt the tickle of his soft breath in her hair. The night slowly came back to her.

His words in the bar.

For some fucked up reason, I see your face when I close my eyes
…

Her own, in the low light of his cabin.

My God, you are a truly beautiful man
…

You just kinda made me go all... Uhhh
...

She flushed at the thought of what had tumbled out of her mouth.
What the hell was she thinking?

His quiet confession as her body silently begged both for him to touch her and to leave her untouched.

I do want you
.

Pretty fucking bad
.

And then, that heady kiss that robbed her of any sense. The feel of his hard length pressed between her thighs as she lay underneath him on the soft bed.
God, she wanted him.