Impulsion: A Station 32 Fire Men Novel (27 page)

He glanced over his shoulder. “Harley, I have a lot to say, and if you go on I won’t say it…I just need you to listen…I have to say this before you and me make a mistake…”

Harley drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, tried to prepare herself for him to tell her that this current between them, this pull that was taunting her body with a want she had never felt for another soul was nothing more than a fallacy, an aftershock of a past that was just that.

“I’m not innocent. When they ripped you from me, they took all I was,” he said in a husky voice. His stare was trained on that creek below. “I have never felt a fear like that before, a pain
so intense. My head was swimming, looking for a way out…Easton and me…we drank, a lot. We skipped school,” he cursed under his breath, “then all that happened on your birthday.” He dared to glance at her, lost his words for a moment.

“I knew if I stayed here…I would never get over you.” He dropped his head. “I saw you everywhere…at times I was sure I could smell you…hear your voice on the wind.”

She moved closer to him, feeling a pain in her chest, the same pain she had endured with him, states away in a different kind of hell. Somehow, knowing their pain was shared, that he ached for her as desperately as she had for him, made this seem poetic to her. She knew that this pain had left a gift behind; a lesson that taught them both that what was between them was unbreakable, unconditional.

“I left,” he said, still keeping his eyes away from her. “All at once, I was in a different world with my uncle…Easton was the only real trace of home
. But the thing was, just like me, he was trying to find some kind of divide…some escape…”

He turned to face her, his eyes rushed over her visage. “Harley,” he said in that slow, deep, southern tone that always seemed to reach deep inside of her, “it didn’t matter what I did or where I went. Each night, each morning, you were the first and last thought, image, in my mind.”

Harley reached for him, but he stepped back, his eyes glazed over.

“At first you never left my mind
. Then I tried to move past us, and when I did, when I was with someone else…all that did was make me think of you more because I felt so
guilty
. It always made me feel so sick, miserable, and the more miserable I felt, the more shit I got myself into…”

Harley looked down, feeling the inside of her shattering. She knew how he felt; she’d endured it
as well.

“It wasn’t worth it,” he said with a rasp. “I stopped trying to move on. I decided to just live. Live with it. And when I did, I finished school, I worked this farm, I joined the fire department, I hung out with my friends, and I just
—lived.”

His eyes met hers, fell deep within the pools of blue and green. “I lived the life that we used to dream about as I held you under these stars…and right when I figured out that I had slipped into another life, a life that was altered enough that I didn’t face your memory with every turn—an alarm goes off
. Just a call, just like all the times before.”

He stepped closer. His fingertips grazed her cheekbone, the trace of the burn from the airbag. “It wasn’t just a call
, though. It was a moment that gave me the second chance that I had asked for a million times over.”

His fingertips slowly moved down her face, down her neck. He noticed how all the tension in her body drifted away, how her eyes slowly closed, the long, deep breaths that were causing her chest to rise and fall.

“The sight of you brought it all back, past and present colliding with a magnitude that is so great…that I have no choice but to stop and realize that the only thing holding us back this go ‘round is us.”

He reached his arm around her waist and pulled her body against his, causing her eyes to fly open, those breaths to come even faster. “And Harley, I’m going to fight like hell for you. And as soon as I make you mine again, I will die before I ever l
et anyone take you from me.” His hand rose to her face, his thumb grazed her flesh, his eyes dipped to her lips, then met her gaze once more. “You’re the only woman I have ever loved. That I ever will love.”

All at once, they both moved forward, their lips connecting as if they were molded from one source, a well-practiced dance of flesh, the perfect rhythm, teasing brushes of tongues that knew just when to fall into a deeper kiss, a kiss that was so devouring that all thought, all reason vanished. The impulse of the heart, that deep passion that lies dormant within erupted to a euphoria that made it impossible to fathom life outside of that very instant.

Harley dropped her phone, her hands moved up his chest, pressing into him but pulling him at the same time. She felt the power of his hands rushing over her body, grasping, savoring.

Her hands moved under his shirt, her arms hooked under his shoulders, wanting to pull him down, not caring that there wasn’t a blanket waiting on them.

Wyatt leaned forward, but only to reach for her legs, to let his hands move against her flesh. “Not here…we don’t have to hide anymore,” he said as he lifted her around him.

Harley didn’t understand what he said or meant. Even though she felt him moving, walking with her wrapped around him, her lips caught his, her hands fisted through his hair, she moved against him, feeling the grasp of his hands on her thighs. A few seconds later, she felt off balance and their lips were ripped apart as he reached to hold her tight and sat down. She gasped, taking inventory of where she was
—on a four-wheeler.

He pulled her hips against his, reached his arms around her, and cranked the four-wheeler to life. One arm fell around her,
holding her waist as the other steered them away. She let out a squealing laugh and clung to him with her arms and legs, burrowing her face in his neck, embracing him as her lips moved across his skin.

When he stopped, he reached both his hands for her face, capturing her lips, giving more power to his kiss, making it even deeper as he leaned forward. Harley was arched back, her legs around him, feeling the heat of his body hover over her as his hands glided across her body far slower than the rush of the kiss, the different rhythms; it was head spinning. Her hand reached up, landed on the center of his chest, feeling his heart roaring under her touch.

There was so much more power in every touch of his, there was no hesitation, no question—it was a claiming.

All at once, he picked her up again, holding her kiss.

Steps later, he sat her down. He slowed the kiss, but it was Harley that broke away, glanced around as she heard the click of a light switch.

Wyatt’s head was humming. He had managed to say what he meant to say, and that kiss—
pure heaven, a wash of relief bringing him back to life. He felt her pull him down, like she had in the past. He knew where they would end up. It took all he had, but he walked her to that four-wheeler. They didn’t have to lie on this creek bed and listen for distant sounds, cling to every second of life like it would be the last, not anymore. That’s what he was trying to tell her with his words, what he was trying to show her with his actions as he took her home.

It wasn’t until he walked past his porch, through his front door that he had the thought that she was a taken woman, that she never said this hell was over. It halted him. He wanted to hear her say she was his now, that she had come back, that this was more than one random night to her.

Looking at her now, those eyes glancing around the room as her hands stayed on him, he decided it didn’t matter if he heard her say that; he already swore to her that he was going to make her his…for all he knew, he only had tonight to love her, and if that were the case, he was going to love her every way a woman could be loved.

“This is yours?” she breathed, glancing around. This home was breathtaking, the kind of home that had design character, built to a person, not decorated to do so.

The floor plan was wide open, the ceilings were high. Gloss wood floors were in every room she could see, calm colors along the walls, high white molding giving depth.

The living room had deep auburn furniture, sitting at an angle before a stone fireplace. There was a soft chair facing the window, an ottoman just beneath it.

That room lead to another. To her left there was a dining room, only a small wall shielded the kitchen behind it. Before her, in the center of the bottom floor was a wide staircase, framed with white wood.

“Mine.”

Her eyes met his. “You built it here?”

He nodded to the chair by the window. “It had a good view.”

She reached for his face, let her thumb rush across his bottom lip. She was home. Not a doubt in her mind.

“The ultimate stolen moment,” she said with a glance to the closed door. They had never been behind a closed door, not one like this. Not when it didn’t matter if anyone found you.

“We’re not stealing a moment, Harley, we’re taking this night and—” Before he could say, “every night past it,” she had reached up and claimed his lips once more. She pulled away just as his hands started to move around her.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

A gasping smile came to him, and he nodded to the stairs. Within the next beat of his heart, she was gone from his arms, running up the stairs, looking back to make sure he was following her.

On his path to her, he lost his shoes, lost his shirt. He was reaching for the clasp on his belt when he stepped into his room.

The wall to the right was more windows than wall, and right then the moonlight was cascading over the king size bed that balanced the room. She was kneeling in the center of his bed. She had lost that dress; all she had on was a white bra that was a mix of cotton and lace, nearly hidden by her long strands of windblown hair, which matched the thin silk cloth hiding the warmth of her.

In his wildest dreams, he had never imagined her to be this bold, this inviting, so sure,
without a trace of timidity. It was stirring him in the most erotic way, but at the same time in the back of his mind he wondered who had taught her that. It burned him to know that anyone had ever touched her, but his own guilt pushed down that thought, and his outright need to have her right then killed all those wandering dark thoughts.

Harley had never felt so free, so alive. Even when she was with Wyatt before, in the heaven of this farm, she felt the chains, the chance of an end, the near promise that there was some separation before them. Now she didn’t feel any of that. She was high on life, intoxicated by the warm rush that was consuming her body.

It seemed someone somewhere had always had control of her for as long as she had breathed. Wyatt made her feel safe, made her feel like she could be herself. He unlocked something inside and made her feel powerful, beautiful, seductive.

She held her breath as his heated stare moved across her body; she had never seen his eyes that hungry before, never seen anyone’s eyes that hungry.

When he began to move closer, she felt her heart pick up a rapid beat. She edged closer to the edge of the bed on her knees as he came to her. Her breath slid down his chest as she leaned forward, landing a sweet kiss just beneath his collar bone.

As if she were the most fragile thing in existence, his
grasp slid around her middle, letting his hand drift with only a feathery touch. She felt his lips against her forehead, felt the short breaths against her flesh. She looked up at him, finding his eyes, seeing how deep they were searching hers; so much emotion, so much pull.

Their lips met; a slow, sweet kiss melded them together.

Harley’s hands moved down his bare chest, tracing every rigid edge. Her hands fumbled with his belt, the button. Just as she eased him free, his hand halted on her back and he moved forward, laying her down.

Harley’s long hair landed in a halo around her. She was his first
—his first everything—but back then he saw with his hands, his lips, never his eyes. He wanted to see her with everything.

He reached for her shoulder, his fingertips glided the strap down. Those same fingertips eased across her chest, tracing the lines of her bra, only to land on the other side to do the same. His eyes met hers as his hand slid around her back, and she smiled as she felt him fumble with the clasp. That smile faded, and her eyes fluttered closed as his hand glided around her, moved across her chest. She
felt not only his touch, but his eyes. She felt his breaths kiss her flesh, warm chills spread across her skin as she arched into his caress.

That sensual dance from one side of her body to the other was only stopped when his hand would move lower with every other sway, only to leave. Then his hand began to slide across her stomach, moving as slow as possible, almost hesitating.

Feeling that pause, her eyes opened to meet his for a long second, then she watched them fall to her body, felt him easing away under the lace and cotton around her waist.

Harley had always thought that Wyatt’s touch felt like velvet; smooth, warm, inviting. But she had never known how erotic his gaze was, watching him watch her, seeing that intensity, a balanced control that she always knew was only barely being held
in check.

When his hand slipped within the heat of her, a breath
of air rushed from her lips. Those ice blue eyes glided across her body, finally meeting her stare.