Caught in the Flames (15 page)

I love family.

My dad and I are really close. Growing up, it was just me and him. My parents divorced when I was little and I don’t have a relationship with my mother. She wanted freedom to find herself, aka, she didn’t want to be my mother anymore. My dad insists he was a horrible partner and he accepts partial blame for why she left, but it’s something I’ve never understood. She moved across the country to the California sun, then called once a year to wish me a happy birthday—the extent of our relationship. I’m not angry about it. It is what it is.

Dad has always been enough for me. A mechanic by trade, he raised me to work hard and respect myself and those around me. And to love cars. We lived in a cookie cutter home just outside Minneapolis. He was somehow able to balance being a single dad during the school year, but each summer I went to stay with my aunt and uncle. His sister’s family. They treated me as their own and I looked forward to every visit. In their old farmhouse just north of Richmond, I joined my older cousins and the neighbors for “normal” family experiences I only read about in books, like playing in the stream at the edge of their property or roasting marshmallows over the fire pit every Friday.

It’s probably the main reason I wanted to move here for school. That and I couldn’t take another frozen winter. At least here we only have to endure a few snow storms a year. I sort of thought I’d move back to Minnesota after graduation, but I grew to love my life here. The one I’ve made for myself. Alicia and Jill are the sisters I never had. And Alicia’s family practically adopted me, guaranteeing I never spend a holiday alone.

My dad calls every Sunday evening to check on me and tell me how much he loves me. Without fail, he’s done this since I left for college, five years now. But it takes me a moment, when I awake in a room cloaked in dim light, to remember why I’m on the couch and why my phone is singing from so far away.

I quickly recall the events of the day and race to the phone, feeling immensely better than when I passed out earlier. My dad’s name flashes on the screen and I pick up.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Callie, my girl. How are you?”

“I’m good.” I check the clock and realize it’s only just past four, then glance outside to where rainclouds fill the sky, cover the sun, and give the illusion it’s much later.

“You sound sleepy. Did I wake you?”

“I dozed off for a nap. I need to get up anyway. How are things at the shop?”

“Same ol’ same ol’. Though you should see the ’64 Corvette we’re restoring. She’s a beauty. A lot of work, but we’ll have her purring in no time. How’s the alignment on the Jeep holding up?” Cars are our thing. It’s how he shows his love.

“It’s good.”

“I still think you should’ve gone with a Chevy.”

“Dad,” I chide. “I’m a grown woman. I can pick out my own car.”

“I know you are. You’re keeping up on the maintenance? That’s important.”

“I just changed the oil last week.”

“That’s my girl.” I can’t help but beam.

“Anything else new?” It’s as if he already knows I’m holding out on him. I haven’t told him about Chase yet. But I want to.

“Well, I met someone . . .”

“Oh?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “I’m sure he’s nowhere good enough for my daughter, but he must be halfway decent if you picked him. Tell me about him.”

“His name is Chase and he drives a ’68 Camaro.”

“Nice. Fully restored?”

“Of course,” I say as the doorbell rings. I step to the front door to check the peephole and find Chase standing there freshly showered and shaved with a paper bag clutched in his hand. His eyes watch the door with that deep, melty chocolate gaze I’m fully addicted to.
Yum
.

“And you’re dating him for more than his ride, I hope?”

I open the door with a laugh. I mouth “Dad” to Chase and he nods and walks past me to place the contents of his bag in the kitchen fridge.

“Of course I am. He’s a firefighter, and funny, and sweet, and I really like him.” Chase straightens at my words, slams the refrigerator door, and stalks toward me with that gleam in his eye.
Oh yes. That’s my Chase.
I don’t process what my dad asks as Chase kisses my neck opposite of the phone, then licks his way upward to suck my earlobe.

“Dad, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“That’s okay, kiddo. We’ll just talk next week.” I have to bite my lip to not moan out my good-bye with Chase’s hands already working their way inside my shorts. One is on my ass and the other dives straight to my clit. As soon as I end the call I release a loud moan.

“Hi,” Chase says, and with a yank he has my shorts and panties off right in the middle of my kitchen.

“Hi,” I squeak as he drops to his knees and runs his tongue from my thigh to my pulsing center. “Oh, yes. Please. This is a nice surprise.”

“I brought dinner.” Chase blows gently at my wet folds and sends a shiver of want and need across my flesh. “But I changed my mind. First I’m having dessert.”

“Eat away,” I remark smartly.

“Mmm hmm.” We both moan as he does what I just suggested.

“Lean against the counter. Hold on tight,” he directs and I step back and brace my hands on the countertop to obey. He follows, scoots on his knees before me, and his hands lift my legs over his shoulders so he’s intimately close to my center. “I love this pussy,” he says and my core tightens at his words. I lose my ability to answer coherently as he uses his hands, mouth, and tongue to eat me out with more enthusiasm than a kid set loose in a candy store.

It’s erotic, looking down to watch him, this strong, powerful man at his knees before me, bringing me pleasure while I’m still half clothed and he’s fully dressed. He sparks my libido fast and furiously. All the foreplay from last night that never went anywhere surges to the surface and pools between my legs. Those chocolate eyes look up at me while his tongue works quick strokes over and around my clit, and one hand pumps two fingers deep inside. My gaze locks with his as I barrel toward the edge of my orgasm. So close. So fast. So good.

“Fuck!” I shout. “I’m close, yes, yes, yes,” I pant.

“Give it to me, Callie. Come on my face,” Chase pumps two of his fingers in and out with as much force as he would his cock. His tongue circles my clit again and when he sucks, hard, I come completely undone.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, love.” He removes his fingers and stands to kiss my lips. His tongue plays with mine and we both work to remove the clothing between us. He stops me as I try to remove his pants. “Wait.” He removes a condom from his back pocket, sets it on the counter, and gives me that knowing smirk. “Okay, you may continue.”

I giggle and he chuckles as I push his pants to the ground. He steps out of them and kicks his socks and shoes off in the process. He reaches for the condom but I snatch it from him, feeling bold and sexy and daring. I rip open the package and roll the rubber over his erection.

Chase grips my shoulders and before I can process what he’s doing, I’m bent over the countertop and he thrusts deep inside. Oh, God, he’s so hot when he takes control like this. I have to grab the ledge to keep from sliding and my breasts push onto the cool stone with each drive of his hips.

“You have such a clean kitchen,” he says into my ear, causing me to grin.

“I like things clean.”

“I remember.” He pounds into me harder, faster from behind. His hand weaves into the curls at the base of my neck and pulls hard so I arch up. He doesn’t waver from his pace. Our skin slaps together and the sound fills the room along with my moans and his pants. “But you get dirty for me. Don’t you?”

“Yes!” I shout and he thrusts inside me once more, this time even harder and deeper than the others. He stills with a deep groan as he fills the condom with his seed.

“God, that was good,” he says at my ear and then relaxes, releasing me from his grip only to pick me up.

“Is this a real fireman’s carry?” I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“No, you’re much too precious to carry that way. This is the way
your
fireman carries you.” He moves us to the living room and sets me on the edge of my sofa. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” He walks to the bathroom and I can’t help but watch his naked ass retreat. God, he has a great butt.

He’s only gone a few moments and I’m feeling pretty great after one and a half orgasms. I say half because I didn’t come while he was inside me, but it felt really good the way we fit together. And I was so close, so that’s gotta count for something. Besides, knowing my man, he’ll have li’l Chase up and at ’em before the night is over.

He returns to stand above me clad only in his underwear. “Snuggle?” His brow lifts on one side the same way his lips curve into a smirk. I fall a little more in love.

“Yes, please.” I scoot over and lie back so there’s room for him. He squishes me into the corner, snakes his arm under my body and pulls me close.

Happy, relaxed, content, I sigh into the crook of his arm. My fingers splay across his chest which is still damp from our activity and I hook one leg over both of his. His right hand traces small circles with his thumb from where it rests at my hip.

“I really like spending time with you, Chase,” I say into his chest, transfixed at the way it rises and falls at a steady pace, his heartbeat a thrum in my ear.

“I feel the same, Callie.”

The affirmation gives me the courage I need to finally pose the questions I’ve been dying to ask. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“We’re
together
together, right? Exclusive?” I hold my breath and wait for his reply. Maybe it’s my imagination or me reading into things, but it’s almost as if his muscles tighten. The energy in the room shifts and my body alters from relaxed to tense.

“Why? Are you planning to fuck other guys?” His voice is hard and angry and I pop up on one elbow to meet his accusing glare.

“What? No! I just want to make sure we’re together. It feels stupid to ask if you want to be my boyfriend, but then Jill said something this morning and I started to question—”

“Don’t listen to your friends, Callie. They’re probably just jealous.”

“No, it’s not that. They care about me, and if I’m honest I’ve wondered about the status of our relationship.” His angry scowl transforms to one of hurt.

“I don’t like labels, Callie. We don’t need to classify our relationship for other people simply to conform to society’s norms. I know what I feel, and I thought you felt the same.”

“I’m only seeing you.” I use my hand to tilt his face toward mine and brush a kiss across his lips. “I only want you.” The hard line of his jaw loosens just slightly and his lips pull to one corner of his face. I kiss him again.

“I want you, too.”

“So, that’s settled.” I lay my head back on his chest. He pulls my naked body closer.

“Why don’t we ever go to your apartment?” I blurt.
Smooth, Callie
. Mental facepalm at my awkward transition to another question that’s been weighing on my mind.

He hesitates a moment and I don’t have it in me to glance at his face. Instead, I listen to the rapid pulse of his heart.

“Do you want to come to my place?”

“Well, sure. I mean, it’s starting to feel like maybe you don’t want me there.”

“No. That’s not it.” His hands leave my body and he exhales loudly. My nerves go on alert as he continues. “I told you I have roommates, and quite frankly my place is a dump compared to your house. But if it means that much to you . . .”

“I’d like to see your place.”

“Umm . . .” His index fingers tap out a nervous beat on the couch cushions. What? What is he not telling me here? Maybe he is a slob? Maybe he doesn’t want me to meet his roommates? I sit up, scoot to the opposite end of the couch to grab the throw blanket I keep draped over the side and cover myself. As if somehow that will protect me from his answers.

“What? What is it, Chase?” I whisper the words and study his face.

“You’ve already been to my place.” He gulps and meets my stare.

“What are you talking about? No, I haven’t!” I shake my head as confusion clouds my thoughts.

“Last night. The party. That was my apartment.”

“What?” Hurt seeps into my very core and I pull the blanket tight and curl my feet under my body.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you. It was stupid that I didn’t. I just—things are complicated.”

“Who are your roommates?” I practically demand.

“James, well, Pants, Troy, and Cameron.”

“You invited me to a party
at your house
, to meet
your brother
, and you didn’t bother to tell me you lived there as well?” Fuck. I’m worked up now. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me this. Panic, anger, disappointment, they all float around the room and taint the love-making bubble we had minutes before.

“Jesus, Callie. Calm down. I didn’t tell you because it’s complicated.”

“So you said!” I yell.

“Look. My family is all shades of fucked up. We’re not like you and your family where your dad calls to chat. You wouldn’t understand. We’re not perfect. We’re not normal. And I don’t like talking about it.”

“Don’t even come at me with that excuse. My family is far from perfect.”