Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) (8 page)

It takes me less than ten minutes to return, and when I scuttle back into his room, he’s already finished off everything on the tray and is waiting expectantly for me. “What next, Nurse Dakota?”

Snickering, I kick my shoes off and hop up on the other side of the bed. “Roll over onto your stomach. Turn your head to the side, cheek flat on the mattress.”

He does this cute little thing where he cocks one eyebrow way up but obeys my instructions without arguing. Knee-walking over to him, I hike the dress up to where it’s barely covering my panty-less mound and straddle his butt. Along with the stifled sound, he chokes back, the pressure against my throbbing clit is torture, but I push my own selfish desires away for the moment and focus on making him feel better.

Drizzling the oil over his bare back, I begin massaging his taut, tense muscles, permitting my fingers to do what they’re trained to do. I put all my attention into soothing him, to relieving his discomfort, and the pleased groans rumbling inside him drive me to keep going.

“You’re fucking phenomenal at this. Your hands are like magic,” he mumbles, opening his lids only enough to peek up at me.

“That’s a good thing, since doing this will be my livelihood soon.”

“You’re a massage therapist? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

Shrugging, I focus my attention on the knot under his left shoulder blade. “I’ll graduate from school in December, and I dunno. It hasn’t come up, I guess.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he closes his eyes and unwinds under my touch, my fingers working up and down the finely sculpted contours of his back. After a few minutes, his entire body relaxes and I think he’s just about asleep, when he says, “You need to come on the road with us Monday. Two-week tour down to New Mexico, across Texas, and ending in New Orleans. That’s when Gunner and Emmy Sue are coming back here, and you could return with them. It’d be fun, and I could use your hands every day when I get off my bike.”

“Sounds like a blast, except would you truly only want to use my
hands
every day?” I tease, wiggling my fingers in the air.

The edge of his mouth curls up lazily and he shakes his head against the bed. “Fuck, no, Sunshine.”

My insides are warm and bubbly and I’ve got a goofy-ass grin on my face as I massage him until he passes out. Then, as quietly as possible, I freshen myself up in the mirror and rejoin the party downstairs.

SUNDAY, JUNE 17

BLINDING SUNLIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE
window, waking me from a much-needed deep sleep. My eyes snap open and survey the hotel room. I’m alone. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.

Last night is kind of fuzzy. I remember the wedding ceremony and having to leave the reception early, feeling like I was burning up from the inside out. I remember Dakota bringing me back to the room, getting my meds, and giving me a massage. The best massage of my life. She’s strong for such a small chick. And her hands . . . my dick twitches just thinking about them.

But then everything in my memory goes dark. Lights out.

I hate to say I hope nothing happened between me and Dakota, ’cause God knows I really fucking
want
something to happen between us. My blood hums around her. Makes me want to fuck the sass right out of her.

But not when I can’t remember. Not when I’m not on my A-game. A feisty beauty like her deserves my best performance.

Damn, I can’t believe I blacked out. Fucking Tori and her sick-ass germs. At least I feel a hundred times better today. Only I’m not sure if I’m going to see Dakota again before we leave on tour tomorrow. I need to see her. She’s making me crazy. I don’t know if that’s good or bad yet, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t get a taste of that sugar and spice.

With a sigh, I reach over, grab my cell phone from the nightstand, and call Emmy Sue.

“This is the second fucking morning in a row you’ve called me before seven. The day of my wedding and the day after,” she accuses. “Do you know what happens after a wedding? A. Wedding. Night. I love the shit out of you, Levi, but I hope this isn’t going to be an everyday thing. I didn’t exactly get much sleep last night. I was a little busy.”

I hear Gunner in the background, yelling there was nothing
little
about it.

Peering over at the clock, I confirm it’s indeed ten minutes ’til seven.
Fuck
. It feels much later. I scrub my hand over my face, trying to rub that unnecessary visual out of my brain. Too late, my dick is already hard.

“Sorry, Emmy Sue, I didn’t realize it was so early.” I mumble my apology, feeling like a dumbass. “I just woke up and called you first thing. I wanted to say sorry for bailing last night and everything . . .” I’m not sure what else to say or how to ask about her friend.

“It’s okay, honey. You were sick.” Her tone is softer now, understanding and soothing. “I’m happy you managed to be there for as long as you were. Dakota told us you were out like a light. Your body must’ve been exhausted.”

I jackknife up to a sitting position, her name demanding my full attention. “Dakota? You saw her again after I went to bed?”

“Yeah, she came back down and partied with us. I think she was still dancing when we left. Why? What’s going on?”

“I . . . uh, I just didn’t get a chance to um . . . thank her for helping me out.” I fumble over the words, hoping she’s too sleepy to buy my bullshit lame excuse. “I guess the medicine knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was a bit off on time and shit. I’m glad she was able to go back down and hang out with you guys.”

Before Emmy Sue can reply, Gunner snatches the phone away from her and roars into the receiver, “Dipshit, it’s the morning after our wedding night. Leave us the fuck alone. I need to bang my wife again! Fucking cockblocker!”

Giggling as she gets back on the line, Emmy Sue says, “Yeah, so we’ll see you at breakfast, Levi. Ten o’clock. Downstairs, where you had brunch yesterday. Dakota will be there too, and you can apologize to her then.” Then she hangs up without waiting for a reply.

Very rarely do I feel nervous. I fly through the air on a dirt bike for a living, for fuck’s sake. My nerves are made of steel.

In my twenty-seven years, I’ve never been nervous around a girl. Not my first kiss in kindergarten. Not even the first time I had sex at thirteen. I know it sounds arrogant as fuck, but I’ve never had to work for pussy. It’s always just found me. And it’s rude to say no, right?

As I shower and get dressed to head downstairs, I can’t help but wonder at the queasy feeling in my gut. Is it because of Dakota, or can I blame it on whatever those pills were I swallowed last night? What is it about this girl that I find so magnetic? So enticing?

Yeah, she’s beautiful, but I’ve been with lots of hot women before. And sure, while I enjoy her smart mouth keeping me on my toes, I’m typically not attracted to aggressive chicks. I like being in control. Always.

It has to be because I haven’t fucked her yet. The thrill of the unknown . . . I’m sure once I do, this anticipation that’s been building since the first time I met the little firecracker will go away. After this damn breakfast, I’m going to drag her perfect ass back up to my room and take care of business. Do what I should’ve been well enough to do last night. All damn day if I feel like it. Then, everything will be gravy.

The thought of gravy—biscuits and sausage gravy, to be exact—propels me into motion, my stomach reminding me that I barely ate anything yesterday. At six-three and a solid two-fifteen, I’m not a small guy. I can put down some food, and a half an omelet along with a few bites of steak isn’t going to cut it. I need to fuel up so I’ll have the strength and endurance for my planned post-wedding brunch activities. The important ones. The naked ones.

At ten o’clock sharp, I stroll into the private dining room, feeling great, ready to take on the day. And Dakota. The welcome smell of bacon grease fills my lungs, my mouth waters, and my stomach growls in response. Hell, yeah. Food and fucking. I’m a man with a mothafuckin’ plan.

Gunner and Emmy Sue are chatting with Rachel and Nathan, her parents, over by the long table set up for us. Everybody’s sporting a chipper smile, so I can only assume everything went well last night. I know her mom was freaking the fuck out yesterday before the ceremony with the maid-of-honor issue and something to do with the cakes not being delivered on time. I didn’t pay much attention. I was more focused on whining about how bad I felt and how ridiculous I looked in the tux. And torturing Gunner about the ring. What can I say? I’m a selfish bastard.

Approaching them, I squeeze in between the newlyweds, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them both into my chest for a three-way hug. “Morning, lovebirds. How is everyone this morning?” Grinning, I tip my chin at her parents, acknowledging them as well. Gunner grunts and gives me the man-back-pat-hug, Emmy Sue kisses my cheek, and Rachel and Nathan return my nod.

“It appears someone’s feeling better this morning,” her mom fusses. “Glad to have you looking human again.”

“It’s good to feel human again. And wear pants that fit right. I’m starving.” I release the hold on my friends and scan the room.

My aunt and uncle, who I like a slight bit more than I do my own parents, are already sitting down having a cup of coffee. By themselves. Instead of mingling with Emmy Sue’s family or other people who were in the wedding. If my aunt can’t be the center of attention at something, she’d rather sit in the corner and pout. At least she came though. Unlike her sister, my sweet mommy dearest, who obviously was too busy to make her nephew’s wedding in which her only child was the best man in. My poor dad probably doesn’t even know who Gunner is, much less that he got married this weekend.

I shake my head back and forth rapidly, erasing the unpleasant thought like you do with one of those Etch-a-Sketch toys. Today’s gonna be a good day. After I get some bacon and use my sausage on Dakota later. I’m not wasting my time getting pissed off about shit I can’t undo.

Emmy Sue hooks her elbow around mine and tilts her head in the direction of the buffet, distracting my thoughts. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go get you some food.”

Twisting around to look at her, thoughtfulness and empathy shine up at me in her warm brown eyes. She saw me looking at them. She knows exactly what I was thinking about. Only she and Gunner know the truth about my parents. I don’t like to talk about that shit.

“Yeah, good idea.” I swallow my annoyance and allow her to drag me away.