Chapter 2

The next morning, Noah pulled into the automotive shop and cut his engine. He sat for a moment, breathing in the fresh air, feeling light and happy—surprisingly fresh given the fact he hadn't slept a wink during his shift.

It had been a good fire. Yes, several units of the apartment building had been left charred hulls—but no one had died. He'd rescued a baby from a crib before the smoke had rolled in to smother her. Retrieving a dead child from a fire was the worst fate a firefighter faced. A save was the best. Once he'd placed the crying infant in her mother's arms, he'd felt like a superhero and was reminded why he loved the job.

All the firefighters had looked up as he'd handed over the little blonde-haired cherub and smiled. The mood at the station had been happy even if they were dead tired.

When he entered the auto shop, a young woman with a dirty blond ponytail sat at the desk.

She glanced up and smiled at him, then turned her gaze to the Camaro just outside the door. "You'll want Hoyt." She raised a hand and pointed inside the garage. "He's working on the Beemer."

Noah entered the shop and passed a row of empty, rectangular pits, heading straight toward a shiny black BMW. The hood was raised, and a tall figure was bent over the engine.

He couldn't help but look. Hoyt was a husky dude with thick arms and thighs. A tattoo ringed the upper arm exposed by the rolled sleeve of his T-shirt—something black and tribal. But Noah's gaze didn't linger there. He noted the long black hair tied back and the stubble on the side of a firm jaw.

Noah cleared his throat. "The lady inside said I'd want you." A flush heated the back of his neck when he realized what he'd said.

Hoyt glanced to the side, straightened, reached into his back pocket for the greasy bandana hanging there, and wiped his hands before offering one to Noah. "Did she now?" His gaze narrowed and gave Noah a bold once-over.

Was he checking him out? Noah's stomach tightened. Felt…fluttery. A blush spread across his cheeks. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the lot outside. "I have a Camaro."

Hoyt's mouth quirked up on one side.

Noah couldn't help but drop his gaze to that smile. He didn't miss the sparkle of humor in Hoyt's pale blue eyes.

Feeling flustered and not liking it one bit, Noah turned on his heel and walked through the garage doors to the car.

Outside, with the sun beating down, he felt more in control until he reached the Camaro and turned. The closer Hoyt drew, the more unraveled he became. Damn, he liked the way the other man moved. His hips rolled. His long legs ate up the pavement as he neared. He moved gracefully, like a big cat. Every move economical. The front of his dark tee depicted a Harley and a local bike club's name. Already in his mind's eye, Noah was picturing Hoyt in black leather pants as he strapped him to a St. Andrew's cross.

"I haven't driven her much since I bought her," Noah blurted. "She died at an intersection yesterday, and ever since, she grinds when I twist the key."

Hoyt grunted and held out his hand for the keys.

Noah passed them and nearly groaned when Hoyt's gaze snagged on the La Forge key fob in the shape of an iron anvil. From the way Hoyt hesitated, his expression tautening, Noah had the sneaking suspicion the other man recognized it.

Hoyt opened the door and slid behind the wheel, taking a second to adjust the seat backward to accommodate his longer legs. He adjusted the throttle and turned the key. A grinding sound was followed by the slow tumble of the engine as it roared into life.

"Your starter's going."

"Yeah, I figured it was the starter."

Hoyt glanced around the interior of the car, pursing his lips as he gave a slow whistle. "She's in nice shape." He glanced up, his gaze squinting. "Might take a while to get the part."

"She's an old car. I figured that, too."

Hoyt smiled. But his expression became shuttered, and a hint of some bleak emotion entered his pale eyes for a moment until he blinked and leveled a challenging stare at Noah. "Need a lift home, or are you going to keep driving her until I can get the part in?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Hoyt he could drive home and park it, but the thought of sharing a ride with the man…

Excitement stirred inside him. That look had probably meant nothing. The other man might even be mocking his interest, but on the off chance the spark was returned, he nodded. "Yeah, I could use a ride."

Satisfaction filled Hoyt as he waited for Noah Turner to fill out the forms on the clipboard. Then he grabbed his keys, gave Sally a wave, and led the firefighter outside to his Harley.

By the way Noah's steps slowed, he hadn't thought this through. He hadn't expected to have to hang off the back of a bike, which only deepened Hoyt's smile. He liked the idea of keeping the other man off-kilter.

From the moment the tall, muscled man had entered the bay, Hoyt's body had been on alert. The firehouse T-shirt he wore told Hoyt what he did for a living. The blush and awkward conversation told him what he might be.

If Noah wasn't experiencing full-on attraction, he was at least aware of the electricity humming in the air.

Hoyt slid his leg over the Harley's seat, turned the key, and twisted the handle. The bike rumbled like a tiger. Then, he gave the firefighter a glance. "Climb on."

Noah cleared his throat, something Hoyt couldn't hear, but he could see his Adam's apple bob. He swung a long leg over the seat and settled against Hoyt, careful not to sit too closely.

Hoyt leaned the bike up, kicked up the stand, and gave it some gas. Off they went. Keeping his gaze on the road, he tilted his head toward Noah. "Where to?"

"Just around the corner. The apartment complex."

Hoyt nodded. So a short ride. How disappointing.

A couple of minutes later, he drove up to the keypad at the gate, waited while Noah punched the numbers, and then followed his directions to a unit at the back of the complex. When he stopped, Noah climbed off.

There was heightened color in the other man's cheeks. His gaze didn't quite meet Hoyt's, and Hoyt knew he'd have to be the one to make a move. Any move. "I noticed the key chain."

Noah's jaw tightened. "Yeah?"

"I was a member a while back. Moira still sit at reception?"

Noah's mouth twitched. "Not so much now. She's dating a friend of mine."

Hoyt pursed his lips. "Good. She's a sweet girl." Fuck, Noah's awkwardness must be rubbing off on him.

"You should come," Noah said, then shrugged. "I could get you added to the list."

Hoyt studied Noah, whose gaze was steady. "When you plannin' on bein' there next?"

"Tomorrow night. I have a group of buddies, but we all wander off. Everyone has their own…preferences."

Hoyt gave him a narrowed stare. "As do I. I might see you there. But I'll call Jenn myself. She still manages?"

"Yeah. Okay." Noah nodded, gave him a slight salute, and turned. Hoyt followed his progress up the stairs to an apartment at the end of the walkway before he pulled away from the curb.

Yeah, he'd bet anything Noah would be there tomorrow night, likely hanging at the bar because of the view of the entry. If he was half as eager as Hoyt to see him again, their time there might get mighty interesting. He'd have to make sure Jenn had a room free because he couldn't imagine the young fireman being cool with letting his buddies watch while Hoyt studied him, maybe tested him.

It has been a long time since Hoyt had had a partner he felt free enough with to explore their mutual needs. Too long. Maybe he was only hoping Noah might be gay or at least curious, that he might be submissive, although Hoyt wasn't that into formalized D/s play anymore. He liked something a bit more organic and natural. Noah was a handsome dude. This didn't have to be anything deep—just a chance to work off some sorrow and feel alive again. There was no denying he wanted Noah in his bed.

His first sight of Noah standing beside him in the garage had sent blood rushing to his balls. His cock had begun to fill before he'd forced himself to breathe and relax. Turning to the man with a boner poking at his jeans might have sent him running.

Yes, Noah was good-looking, but that wasn't really what drew Hoyt. Staring into Noah's eyes, he'd sensed there was more to the man, a hint of pain in his shadowed gaze. And he would almost bet the car was somehow connected. He'd said he hadn't driven it much since he'd bought it. He'd seemed almost guilty, like he didn't deserve to own the Camaro.

Pain was something Hoyt could work with—something he could bring from the inside outward, where he could then turn it into something pleasurable for them both.

Hoyt needed a submissive partner the way some men needed food and water. Without one, he was adrift, without purpose. The world was gray, the food he ate flavorless. Working a sub, especially one he wanted for himself, added color and focus, taste and texture. And he was sure he wanted Noah.

Hoyt lifted his head to breathe in the scent of freshly mowed grass and to feel the sunlight on his skin. For the first time since his last partner had passed, he felt anticipation's enticing grip.