Up in Flames (Crash and Burn, Book Two) (A Military Romance) (3 page)

Cole takes me right to his old bedroom. It looks different now, the walls bearing tasteful art, the bed no longer a twin but at least a queen-sized, if not larger. He throws me on top of the cover, then nudges my thighs apart and immediately thrusts a finger inside my wetness.

I groan, roll my hips in time to the movement. God, it feels so good, and I’m growing dizzy and frantic with need. I want him inside me right now.

“So fucking wet,” he says, then smears my juices across my bottom lip and sucks it off. “I want to taste your pussy everywhere.” His hand dips back into my channel, and he streaks my come across my belly, licks the damp flesh, then streaks down my thighs, and licks there too. Soon I’m wet all over from my liquid and his mouth. I feel dirty, sexy, wanted.

I’m shaking so hard I can’t breathe. My hands are knotted at my sides. If he touches me one more time, I might explode so hard that I’ll die. My clit is pulsing frantically.

Cole reaches to his bedside stand, and I hear the crinkle of foil as he gets a condom out and tugs it onto his huge dick. My mouth legitimately waters, and I swallow. When Cole lowers his body onto mine, he keeps his body hovering with one forearm, the other hand stroking my cheek, my hair. There’s a softness in his eyes that contrasts with the hard cock bobbing against my belly. It makes my heart flip in my chest.

Then one smooth move, and he’s inside me, stretching my walls and filling me to the brim.

He shudders, and his eyes drift closed as he pulls out, the ridges of his dick sliding along me, then pushes back in. “Fuck, kitten…” His breathing grows rapid, uneven as his hand moves to my breast and he squeezes, then licks my hard nipple.

I rest my hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under my fingers. Widen my knees and rock my hips to draw him deeper. When I squeeze my inner walls, he curses again. “Don’t stop,” I gasp. He’s rubbing the right spot, and I drop one hand down to slick across my pulsing clit.

Cole rams me harder, fucking me so strongly I begin to shift up the bed. He cups the top of my head to lock me in place, our bodies sliding from the sweat growing on our skin. Between his thrusts and my fingers along my wet lower lips, I feel the orgasm inching closer.

Cole leans down and bites my shoulder—not hard, but enough to steal the breath from my lungs. “Don’t you fucking come yet,” he orders me, his voice so harsh it sounds like he’s mad. He draws my legs up until my knees are beside my head and then starts ramming me like there’s no tomorrow. Sweat forms on his brow, and he doesn’t take his eyes off me, not for a second.

In that moment, with him buried in me, my pussy shaking and screaming to orgasm, there’s a silent message passing between us that feels so intimate it’s like he’s ripped me in two and peered inside my soul. I’m right on the edge, barely able to draw breath, hands gripping his forearms, feeling the crisp hairs under my fingers. His hands are situated below my knees to keep me spread wide for him.

He removes one hand from a shin to flick my clit, and I’m right there, oh God, right there…I’m going to come any second now.

“Do not move your legs,” he says. His other hand reaches up to stroke my nipple into a painful bead, and I’m so close to the edge of the cliff that I can see the bottom.

“Please,” I beg Cole, aroused beyond belief when I see him lose that controlling edge, his thrusts becoming staggered and uneven. “I need to come. Please.”

“There’s nothing hotter than watching you beg for me, kitten,” he pants. His body becomes one tense line and he freezes for a moment, then says, with his fingers flicking, “Come. Now. Come for me, right fucking now.”

I explode.

It’s like my whole body comes. The orgasm vibrates out of every cell, from my pussy to my nipples to my limbs, and I scream, arch off the bed, head thrust back on the pillow. And then Cole yells and drops his mouth down to my throat, biting the skin as he pours his seed into the condom. We’re locked together, unable to move as pleasure rips through us.

It takes me a while to draw a steady breath, and even longer for my limbs to unwind and loosen so I can move again. I shift so my legs are back down once more, and Cole withdraws from me with a low groan. He disposes of the condom in a tissue and dumps it in the garbage, then moves back by my side in a flash, curling my damp, sated body to his. His breath puffs the small hairs on the side of my face.

My eyes draw closed of their own volition. I can’t think. My brain is blessedly silent for once. So I give in to the quiet, the peaceful aftermath of that amazing orgasm, and fall into sleep.

T
he lunch crowd
at Mickey’s Pub is easing as the clock inches closer to two. I take advantage of the lull and wipe down tables, sweep the floor. It’s hard to fight back the shit-eating grin that has lived on my face since I arrived here at eleven.

Lauren. In my bed. Screaming my name, underneath me, legs spread wide and body racked with orgasms. We had sex twice last night. I almost didn’t want to shower so I could keep the smell of her on my skin.

“You’re in a good mood,” Xander says to me as he hands a single customer at the bar a Guinness, complete with a perfect foam head. The guy grunts a thanks and chugs.

“It’s a nice day out,” I reply with a casual shrug. Part of me wants to open up and tell him what’s going on. The other part of me wants to keep this close to my chest. Not jinx anything.

“Sure it is.” Xander works on straightening up behind the bar, and the only sound in the room is the soft music in the background and the couple in the corner, talking loudly over their beers.

I finish sweeping the floor. When I’m satisfied with the cleanliness of the room, I put the broom away and work on restocking the bar. A few trips lugging beer, filling the ice cooler, chopping more limes and lemons keeps me occupied.

Xander works his way toward me. “So seriously, you’re not going to talk about why you look like you won the lottery? If you get any more smug, I might have to make you clean the toilets.”

I take my time straightening the liquor bottles. If I’m going to make this thing with Lauren real, I’m going to have to start talking to someone about how I feel. My brother’s a good a place to start as any, I suppose. I’ve spent seventeen years keeping my love for her locked in my heart. Too afraid to tell anyone how strongly I feel about her.

Time to stop that bullshit. The new me doesn’t live like that anymore. Instead of turning away from things that scare me, I embrace them, control them. That weak version of me has been long gone.

“Lauren stayed over with me last night,” I find myself saying.

Xander is washing dirty glasses behind the counter. “Ah, so you guys got to hang out. Awesome.” As he’s spraying clean water into the cup, he pauses. Looks at me, his eyes narrowing. “Wait. Do you mean…she stayed over with you? Or she
stayed over
with you?”

My smile is answer enough.

He puts the cup down on a dishtowel and slaps me on the back. “Holy shit. ’Bout time, you asswipe. How long have you been in love with her? A dozen years or so?”

“Something like that,” I reply. He’s off on the number, but it’s clear he knows it’s been a while now. “How did you figure it out, anyway? And why didn’t you say anything before?”

He laughs. “Seriously? You were the most uptight, closed-off, scared-shitless kid I ever met. I think if I’d told you I knew you were crushing on her, you would have died on the spot.”

I throw a rag at him, and he swats it away, laughing harder. “Knock it off, pencil dick,” I tell him. “I’m not like that anymore.”

Xander waggles his brows. “That much is clear. Sounds like she’s got it bad for your army body, beefcake.”

“I love her,” I say quietly, the smile fading from my face. “It’s not just sex for me. She means everything.”

My brother sighs and claps my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The empathy in his eyes is easy to see. “I know, bro. Seriously, I’m glad for you. I’ve been waiting to see what would happen, if you’d ever nut up and tell her you want her. I’m assuming it went well?”

The Guinness guy waves at Xander, then points at his menu.

“Hold that thought,” he tells me, then goes to the other end of the bar to take the guy’s food order.

Yes, it did go well. So damn well it surprised me, especially since the night had started off so awkwardly at the bar. I made breakfast this morning for Lauren, and she sighed in pleasure as she inhaled a huge stack of pancakes—loaded with chocolate chips, the way she likes them, of course.

Okay, so when she first woke up, it was a little strained, I admit. She was wearing one of my shirts, the hem barely covering her crotch, those long legs strolling across the floor toward me, her hair mussed and cheeks pink. But once we got in our rhythm, the unease faded and we were back to our usual selves.

We ate breakfast, showered—I even restrained myself from jumping in the shower and soaping up those beautiful tits of hers, though I reserve the right to do that in the future—and I gave her a kiss on her brow before she left, promising to call later.

The idea of having that every day, of waking up with her in my bed, us getting ready together, me knowing all day that I’d be the luckiest fuck in the world because I was coming home to her…it’s been hounding me.

I’ve had Lauren now. Tasted her. Held her. Been inside her. And I want more. I want it all, and I won’t settle for anything less. Now even more than before.

I take over washing the cups for Xander to give me something to do. Wash, rinse, dry, put away. Methodical and slow.

I could be good for Lauren, and she could be good for me. I just have to get her to see that I’m the man who can make her happy forever. Because no one will love her as much as I do. No one knows every intimate secret about her like I do. This doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship, but another extension of it.

We could be best friends
and
lovers too.

Probably the scariest thing of all is that I have hope. Real, living hope, swelling in my heart, knowing that I’m finally making my dream a reality. I’m determined to give this woman everything I have, because she’s worth the risk.

A minute after I finish drying the last dish, my phone rings. I glance down at the caller ID. It’s Dad.

“Xander, I’m taking a break,” I say, and the seriousness in my tone must alert him to something happening.

He nods, and I step out onto the empty back patio. The sunshine is warm, and the air is still. I answer the call. “Hello?”

“Son. Hey. It’s me.” Dad’s voice is slow as he talks, the words measured with a deliberate leisurely tempo. Pretty unlike him, who likes to get to the point fast.

Unease settles in my chest. “I can tell. What’s going on, Dad? Where are you?”

He sighs, and the sound is so ragged and pained that it makes me cringe. Something is definitely up. Dad’s never this emotional. “I just… I’m sorry. For running like that. It was cowardly of me.” There’s the slightest hint of a slur in his voice. Shit. He’s drunk. “I just… You know? I can’t keep it like this, and I’ve been…fighting it for so long, and it’s all done.”

“Yeah, it’s been hard on all of us,” I tell him in a soothing tone, trying to decipher his confusing words. Mom and I struggled so much when I was growing up, but I still miss her. It’s so fucking weird being at home, expecting her to be in a room when I turn the corner. My first couple of days back, I felt like she was haunting everywhere I went. “But running away doesn’t solve anything. Come home. Let’s talk about it. We’ll figure it out—”

“Do you know what it’s like to love a woman and know you’ll never—you won’t have that person ever again? Never see her or touch her hand or drink coffee with her?” Dad’s slurring words grow rough, and I can hear his emotions manifesting into anger. It’s clear to me he’s been bottling this shit up for so long, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Where are you?” I repeat. “Let’s meet up. Are you in the area? I’ll drive to come get you. Stay put.” I pause and press on the one thing I hope will get him to listen. “Dad, we really need your help with the bar. The remodel is gonna start soon. We got the design in, and it’s great, but Xander needs your input.”

“You’re not…you’re not listening to me.” He sounds mulish, and I swallow a frustrated sigh. It’s hard enough sometimes dealing with my dad when he’s sober. The infrequent times he’s drunk, his belligerence is frustrating. “I can’t do it, not anymore. I don’t give a shit about the bar. What does any of it mean without her?” His voice breaks on this last word, and I feel my heart crack at the evident pain.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say, reining in my irritation.
Patience,
I tell myself. I can’t deal with him like I’d deal with a sober person. “I know you’re hurting. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come and just listen. You don’t have to come back with me if you’re not ready.” Even as I say those words, the part of me that’s still a kid on the inside flinches. Your dad is supposed to have his shit together. Mine seemed like he always did, but I guess that was just a façade.

I’m seeing the real Dad behind the veneer, the one who’s drowning in his agony for his wife, and it’s brutal.

My voice softens. “Please. Let’s talk, okay?”

There’s a long pause on the other end, followed by a raspy sigh. “Not right now, but…soon. I should— I gotta go.”

“Dad—”

The click on the line tells me he’s already hung up. Shit. I drop down to sit on the brick wall and rest my hands in my lap. How is it one part of my life is finally getting under control and the other part starts spiraling like crazy? How do I deal?

It’s hard to tuck all my rampant emotions back inside, to enter the bar and smile and pretend like everything is fine. At some point, I’ll pull Xander aside and tell him what’s going on. Between the two of us, we’ll work something out. And when my shift is over, I’ll reach out to my best friend, whose comforting arms are all I can think about right now.