How to Seduce a Fireman. Vonnie Davis
She’d used it as a stepping stone to getting her own column in the local newspaper.
She glanced down the street, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. Her open hand gave a dismissive wave. “You forget. I was once in your place. Scarred and scared and determined to outrun Wolf.” She shot him a quick glance. “It won’t happen, you know. Once one of those Wolfords set his or her sights on someone, that person doesn’t stand a chance. I think it’s a family trait.”
“Didn’t take him long to capture you.” Less than two months after moving into the townhouse next door, Wolf had a diamond on Becca’s finger. He’d storm-crashed through the walls she’d erected around her heart after her ex-husband left her a year earlier.
No one, including the woman in front of him, could understand why Quinn lived behind an emotional fortress. After the cluster-fuck of his mission in Chile, he’d encased his warped heart in cold, hard lead. Renata’s betrayal, the ensuing loss of four members of his team and the damage to his reputation with the agency had pretty much corroded the hell out of his soul. Putting a bullet between Renata’s scheming eyes had further twisted him so severely inside, he wasn’t fit for anyone, much less someone as sweet as Cassie. She was sunshine to his darkness, emotional openness to his secrets, purity to his evil. Yet, damn if he wouldn’t give his right nut for things to be different. Yeah, crap into your ball cap and wish, Gallagher, and all you’re gonna have is a hatful of shit.
He exhaled a long sigh, pushing his dark thoughts to the dank recesses of his mind. “Where do you want me to put Cassie? I need to get back to the station.” He had a long night of thinking and planning ahead of him. Before he’d let Cassie leave her family, he’d resign from the fire and rescue station and head for parts unknown—or home. His stomach cramped at that thought. Wouldn’t his old man just shit a brick if he returned to the Truman Building, near the White House, or back to the Pentagon, across from Arlington?
“In the guest bedroom upstairs.” Becca pivoted and pointed toward her front door. “Ah…there’s ibuprofen in the upper cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink, if you can get her to take them. Otherwise she’s going to have a terrible headache in the morning. Bottled water’s in the refrigerator. If you think you can handle Cassie by yourself, I’ll take Einstein for his walk before bedtime.”
“Sure. No problem.” If Becca and the dog left, she’d take her inquiring mind along with her. Damn if she didn’t read him too well.
“Put Cassie in the blue bedroom at the top of the stairs and close the door behind you.” She patted her pocket. “I’ve got my key.”
“Okay, will do.” He circled the front of the Wrangler and unlocked the door to lift Cassie out. Before he did, he unlocked the glove box and retrieved her birthday gift, shoving it into the interior pocket of his jean jacket. After snatching her purse, he slung his unconscious passenger over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Gentle snoring drifted from her lips and her appealing fragrance of peaches and cream filled his nostrils, as did the stench of vomit and Dustin’s strong aftershave. Jesus, what an unholy combination.
Once inside, he strolled through Becca’s townhouse to her kitchen to retrieve the water and headache medicine. His gaze drifted to a framed cross-stitch picture of Einstein hanging on Becca’s dining room wall. No doubt the crafty person who’d made it was the same individual who’d sewn and framed the fireman’s insignia hanging in his living room. Cassie believed in giving gifts she’d made herself. His arms tightened around her legs, molding her to him. He’d never met anyone as selfless as she.
The birthday gift he’d tucked into his jacket pocket rubbed against his chest as he ascended the steps. It was a present he should never have bought her. Yet it was the only thing he’d found during his long hours of searching that even came close to suiting her personality. After all that passed between them tonight, giving it to her probably wasn’t a wise choice. He should take it back to the jewelers for a refund. Hell, the thing was solid gold and the diamonds top quality.
He gnashed his teeth in resolve. He’d be damned if another woman would ever wear her necklace.
Cassie groaned and shifted on the bed once he laid her down and flicked on the bedside lamp. Her dark hair with a splash of red dye in the front feathered across the pillow. He set the water and bottle of ibuprofen on the table before slipping off her red stilettos. Pretty red toenails greeted him, and he rubbed them, brushing off a few grains of sand.
He rolled her to her side, unzipped the back of her red leather skirt and snaked it down over her hips. Holy hell. He pinched his eyes shut. A red lace thong. One quick yank and he had the skirt pooled on the bottom of the bed. He forked his fingers through his hair in frustration, his need growing greater by the second. You cannot freaking touch her, man.
Next would be her sweater. If she hadn’t thrown up, he’d let her sleep in it. But waking up reeking of vomit would only acerbate the headache she was sure to have. Lifting one arm at a time, he worked them out of the pullover.
The jostling pulled her from a deep slumber.
“Don’t. Want Quinn.”
“I’m here, peanut.” He tugged the sweater over her head and tossed it on the floor. High, firm breasts nearly spilled from her red lace bra. He allowed his gaze to take a long, slow journey over her body. His cock rose to take a peek too. No little girl ever looked like this. She really had grown up. His fingers flexed. He’d seen her in a bikini many times, but her swimming attire was nothing compared to red peekaboo lace—what there was of it.
“I’ll be right back.” He slipped off his jean jacket and tossed it on the foot of the bed.
“Don’t go.” Her lips formed a pout.
If he didn’t put some distance between them, he’d have his hands all over her. Hell, he’d be all over her. The last thing he ever wanted to do was take advantage of this sexy bundle of innocence and sweetness.
He stormed into the bathroom and turned on the shower, sticking his head under the cold spray for a good thirty seconds. He gasped and sputtered, hoping, willing the coldness to subdue his cock. Grabbing a towel, he blotted his face and hair dry. He snatched a washcloth and held it under hot water to clean Cassie’s face, neck and hands. If he could, he’d wash her all over to cleanse her of Dustin’s touch. She should smell of Quinn’s scent, not another man’s. Never another man’s. Keep your head on straight, man. Pack that possessive shit up and lock it away.
He sat on the side of the bed and wiped off her face, neck and shoulders while she mumbled and complained in her sleep. “Cassie, open your eyes.” He shook a couple pills into his hand and held them out to her.
“Mmm?” Her eyelids fluttered.
He slid an arm under her shoulder and lifted her into a sitting position. “Open your mouth and take these pills.”
She stuck out her tongue to accept the medicine.
He exhaled an unsteady breath. His cock grew again with a pink-tongued destination in mind. Cassie was day-by-day, hour-by-hour becoming his obsession. Fighting her off hurt like hell, but giving her false hope of a happy ever after would be damn cruel. That’s why he had to leave Clearwater. She was already talking to her friends about moving to get away from him. Her family was here; she needed them. If anyone had to go, it should be him. Really, besides his job, a small circle of friends, and her, what did he have to hold him in this Gulfside community?
He tumbled the pills onto her tongue and held the bottled water to her mouth. “Swallow.”
She obeyed, with a tiny stream of water dribbling off her pointy chin.
“Open.” He wanted to make sure she’d swallowed them.
She mindlessly complied, her eyes still closed.
Yeah baby, his cock commented, pointing its selfish head in her direction, straining Quinn’s jeans to the point of bursting.
“Lie down.” He needed to get the hell out of here. Just