Where There's Smoke (11 page)

She stretched her neck back and he took advantage, kissing and sucking at the white expanse of skin that throbbed with her heartbeat. She pushed her breasts up against his chest, all pillowy with the tips digging into his chest.

Her greedy mouth raced over his skin as if she was afraid she wouldn't be able to taste all of him before it was over. He slowed her, eased her, cradled her face in his hands and made love to her mouth as he made love to her body. She tilted her hips up, digging her heels into the mattress and copying his motions until desire took over. She bucked and begged and he responded with equal desperation before clutching her hips and taking her where she wanted to be.

Her cry of surrender was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, and he felt the muscles in her thighs go lax, her stomach, her arms. Even her eyes fell closed.

"Not yet, Lauren,” he murmured, sliding out of her. She turned to give him a sated smile—before he slid his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes flew open. “No."

"Yes,” he said, and felt all those muscles go tense again, saw all reason leave her eyes as she pushed against his hand and hips. Her body drew him in, clutched at him, and he was feeling a little mindless himself. He dropped over her, all his weight on one elbow as he continued his caresses, his strokes, and she bowed into him, moving against his touch, her breath coming shorter and faster, cool against his damp skin. His strokes became smaller, more focused, and then—

When the fragments of his brain reformed, he shifted only a little, nestling his head in the curve of her throat, her hair spread out beneath them, just as he'd imagined. He kissed her soft, damp skin, stroked her belly, observed the contrast of their skins where his thigh lay across hers. His spent but not weary penis rested against her hip, reminding her they were naked together.

He slid his hand from her belly to her breasts, toyed with them, appreciated them. He smiled at the little hitch he heard in her breath when he teased them back to peaks, as his arousal stirred against her side.

"But we—” she said.

He shook his head and raised up over her, already eager to be inside her again. “Tonight, once is not going to be enough."

Lauren woke with her face in Seth's armpit, but it wasn't disgusting. He smelled nice, really musky, but clean. She eased away because his hair was tickling her nose and blinked hard when she realized the sun shone through the sheer curtains. Why did she felt guilty for spending the night? She had no place to be, no one waiting for her at home.

She'd never spent the night with a lover, never shared that level of intimacy. Yet she'd slept practically all night in Seth's arm—pit.

She eased back further and studied him. He slept on his back, one arm flung over his head, really relaxed. He'd kicked the covers off—she hadn't felt him do that—so he slept completely naked. Decadent fool that she was, she took the opportunity to study his manhood. It took her places...

Wow, like it was reading her thoughts, it started to grow. Horrified, she glanced up to see that Seth was awake, and was watching her. And reacting.

She scrambled, wanting to run to the bathroom and hide. He caught her waist before she got out of bed and dragged her under him. She heard the rip of cellophane, saw his hand disappear between them.

"Good morning,” he grinned, already pushing between her thighs.

"Seth,” she protested, but the laugh, and the moan of pleasure as he pushed into her, belied her reluctance.

"What do you like for breakfast?” he asked, nipping her jaw with his teeth.

"You know what I like.” She tilted her head back to give him greater access and her thighs fell apart, encouraging him to come deeper inside.

"Everything?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit breathless as he pushed deeper.

"You're learning,” she said, and rolled on top of him.

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The doorbell rang. Next to Lauren in bed, Seth chuckled. She loved the sound of it, the feel of it in his chest against her hand.

"There's something to be said for timing,” he said, standing in one fluid movement. His still damp skin glistened in the sunlight through the blinds.

She hugged the pillow he'd abandoned. “I don't suppose that's breakfast pizza."

He glanced at the clock as he fastened his jeans. “Try lunch.” He snatched back the pillow, smacked her butt with it before tossing it back on the bed and going to answer the door.

She sat lazily and picked the sheet up off the floor. She held it to her face and took a deep breath, dragging in the musky scent before wrapping it around her like a sarong. The makeshift dress almost felt sexier than being naked. She finger-combed her hair but it was hopelessly tangled, and the gallon of hairspray the hairdresser had applied before the wedding only made it worse. She needed a shower.

She crept to the bedroom door to see who had rung the bell so early on a Sunday morning. In the living room, Oscar stood off with Seth, who dragged his hand through his hair nervously.

Oscar glanced toward the bedroom and Seth followed his gaze, hoping Lauren wouldn't come out. “Look, Dad, I'm sorry I missed our golf game. It totally slipped my mind."

God, could his dad smell Lauren on him? Seth couldn't smell anything else. His father probably suspected he had a girl in there—Seth just hoped he didn't realize who it was.

"I was worried about you,” Oscar said, and Seth realized with a sinking feeling that Oscar meant to talk. Seth edged around the couch just ahead of his father and saw the bronze bridesmaid dress on the floor. Horror choked him. All the bridesmaids but two were his sisters, so if his dad saw the dress...

He shoved it under the couch with his foot just as Oscar came around. Seth glanced down to make sure the dress was hidden and saw the white panties with pink flowers.

Oscar saw them too, so Seth didn't bother to hide them. Surely Oscar didn't know what kind of underwear Lauren wore.

He sat casually on the couch, right over where the dress was, and pressed his heels to the skirt of the couch to push it further back. Oscar sat too, his eyes still on the panties. Apparently, he wasn't going to get over it, so Seth picked them up and wadded them on the couch under his hip. He needed to get Oscar out of here.

"You ran out last night without so much as saying goodbye to your family. Last night was a night for family, not a night to—” Oscar gestured to where Seth had tucked the panties.

"You don't want to be having a ‘family first’ conversation with me.” The minute the words were out of his mouth, he realized Lauren could overhear. She could never find out about her mother and his father, and this would be the worst way of all. So he steered the conversation back to himself. “I don't like to be alone. I'm young, and I'm free.” He emphasized the last word. “I'm not hurting anyone."

Oscar nodded toward the bedroom. “Except the young lady in there."

Well, damn, he didn't want to go that way, either. “She knows what she's doing."

"You're a terrific young man, Seth. You have a lot to offer women."

"And I'm not going to settle down until I know I can be a one woman man.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, he winced. Lauren had to have heard that; he raised his voice in impatience. He just hoped his father didn't play off the conversation and let Lauren hear something he'd protected her from for years.

Instead, Oscar stood, his face drawn with disappointment. There was a time that expression would have torn at Seth, but no more. These days, the disappointment stayed on his side, and was pretty much constant.

"All right,” Oscar said, heading for the door. “I'll see you at the station."

Lauren stepped out of the bedroom as Seth latched the door. “So. Does your dad check up on you often?"

"No.” Seth walked over to the couch and reached beneath it, pulling out her dress and tossing it to her. He started into the kitchen, stopped and turned to her. “You know, I just can't remember making a golf date with my dad for the morning after Crystal's wedding."

"Why not? Because you knew you'd bring somebody home?"

The minute she said it she was sorry. Seth's expression hardened, his eyes went flat, his lips thinned. “What do you think this is about, Lauren? You think I brought you home because I couldn't get anybody else?"

No, she knew he hadn't wanted anybody else. But she knew his lifestyle, had been painfully reminded of it by Oscar's words. She knew that as much as she wanted to be with him, she needed to protect herself. So she set about doing it.

"We could chalk this up to experimentation,” she babbled. “I mean, of course you don't want to change your—slow down your—you know, with your band and everything. I mean, I'm making no claims on you here."

"You want to see other people?” His tone was dead serious, unfamiliar.

No. Hell, no, she didn't. But she didn't want to be the person who chained him down. Her father had done that to her mother and look what happened. She'd rather lose Seth than have him resent her.

"I haven't seen other people in months. Why would I start now? I'm talking about Seth Escamilla, studpuppy firefighter in the prime of his life doing a one-eighty from playing the field to ... not."

"You want me to see other women."

Why did that tone send a shiver of alarm down her spine? Still she pressed on, wanting to stamp her foot for having to say it. “I don't want you to not see other women because of me. I know you're years from being commitment ready and I respect that. I can deal."

"I don't want you to deal. I want you to tell me what you want."

She took a deep breath but couldn't look at him. “I want to be enough for you. I want this thing between us to be worth the risk we're taking with our friendship."

He turned away to walk into the kitchen and bent to look in the cabinet. He pulled out a frying pan then braced his hands on the countertop to look through the breakfast bar at her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as he just looked at her. She knew he wouldn't say, “Okay, Lauren, I won't see anyone else, ever.” As much as last night meant, it was too soon to hope he would want what she wanted.

But she didn't expect him to say, “You want an omelet?"

Lauren groaned and stormed into the bathroom.

Man, what had he done? Seth turned to the fridge and dragged out the carton of eggs he'd never gotten around to unpacking. He'd known he was taking a chance, making love with Lauren. Seriously, he loved her, always had, just not in that way. Until recently.

He knew Lauren was different. She didn't play around with sex; she took it seriously. Of course she wanted more. She deserved more. He just wasn't sure he could give it. He didn't have fidelity in him. And now he could have cost them their friendship.

His dad was right in many ways, though Seth would never admit it. He'd pointed out character traits that Seth didn't care to see in himself. Worse, he was pretty sure Lauren had heard Oscar number his faults, and that was why she was freaking out.

She was really quiet when she finished showering, her wet hair making damp spots on his departmental t-shirt. He tried to figure out what she was thinking, but she wouldn't look at him, and her expression was closed. It was disconcerting not being able to read her thoughts after, well, being able to read her thoughts for so many years. She sat at the table he'd already set, reached for the salt without tasting the omelet first.

"Should I put on the game?” he asked finally when he couldn't bear the silence any longer. At least having the game on would have a semblance of normalcy, of familiar ground.

"If you want,” she said with a shrug, toying with her food.

"Oh, don't go turning all girly on me,” he said, leaning back and cocking his head at her. She'd never kept anything from him before. Was this only the first change in their relationship? Was this what she thought a girl was supposed to do the morning after? “Don't be all, ‘Yes, Master.’”

"Okay, then, no.” She set the shaker down with a crack and glared. “I don't want to watch the game."

"Chick flick?"

"God.” She pushed back from the table, apparently frustrated by his inability to catch her signals. “I'm going home."

A terrible thought struck him. “You don't want to talk, do you?"

She rolled her eyes and left the room. Damn it, why did girls always have to ruin everything by wanting to talk? What did she expect him to say? Did she want a happily ever after guarantee after just one night?

Okay, not fair. It had been years. He knew that. But to make a decision, a choice, surely that wasn't what she wanted. So what did she want?

He followed her into the bedroom to find her gathering her clothes and shoving her bare feet into her high heels. The contrast of the shoes with the athletic clothes she borrowed from him looked at once ridiculous and sexy. Hell, he could not be thinking like that, not when she was so pissed.

"You can't go home, Lauren. I mean, we came in my car, remember?"

She looked up then and it was worse than he feared. She looked ready to cry. So, like any man, he panicked. “God, Lauren, I'm so sorry.” Had he hurt her? What had he done wrong? All he knew was, he had to make it better. He moved toward her, hands outstretched, but she stepped away, holding up one hand.

"Don't,” she snapped. “Look, I just want to go get my car, all right? And I'll call you later."

Reluctantly he followed her out the front door, casting a longing look at his uneaten omelet.

They didn't speak on the way to the church to get her car. He wanted to ask her what she wanted, but was too damn chicken to hear the answer. He'd known, he'd known Lauren was a happily ever after girl. What had possessed him to take their relationship beyond that?

Stupid question, Seth.

When she got out of his truck, he found himself saying the words he'd said to other girls, when Lauren was anything but one of the other girls.

"I'm on tomorrow at nine,” he said, leaning across the seat and speaking through the open door. “Call me at the station, all right?"

She only nodded and slid into her car, never looking at him. Well. He screwed that up worse than he'd thought possible.