Chapter 3

Viv stared at the screen of her cell phone and groaned.

Her editor had just texted her. "This shit's gone viral! Your naked ass is all over the Internet."

Mary Toomey had the vocabulary of a sailor. Which was probably why she'd never blinked at the first story by Viviana Moore that had crossed her desk eight years ago.

Since the fire two nights ago, Mary had been crowing over the attention Viv was getting. "Your numbers are going through the roof! Can you set the bedroom on fire next?"

Viv glared. Seriously? Okay, so maybe that thought had crossed her mind, too, especially after getting a good look at the fireman up close at his station house yesterday. Tall, dark, and broody pushed every one of her buttons.

She'd gladly humiliate herself in front of the world if he gave her one of those looks again. She remembered the tour he'd given her of the station, his buddies doing their best to look like they weren't watching closely. Tension had ridden Gage's shoulders, and while he'd pitched scary glares at his buddies, he'd given her a look she found hard to describe. One word wouldn't do. He'd looked as though he imagined crawling right on top of her. Like he'd kiss her silly, then do it again while he bared her skin, inch by inch. Okay, so maybe one word would do. He'd looked hungry .

Her phone dinged again, and she frowned. If Mary had her way, she'd coach Viv into manufacturing more public moments, each bigger than the next. But Viv doubted Gage would be into that. And being in the public was very much against her own true nature. Like most writers, she was an introvert and preferred her own company or the company of her characters to most people.

Although she'd certainly make an exception for the handsome firefighter. He was the first man in too long to tempt her from her writer's den. Maybe she was a little rusty holding a conversation with a man, but he hadn't seemed to mind her clumsy invitation. She hadn't always been this closed off, this inept.

Viv took a deep breath and pushed the memories aside. Something she had to do less and less as time wore on. Thankfully, her sorrow no longer ate at her constantly. She could get out of bed. She could work, although she really didn't need to. Not for a while, anyway. Mike had made sure of that.

Mike. Even thinking his name made her chest hurt, so she didn't most days. His death had been long enough ago she could go through the motions of being normal, long enough until she felt as though she really was.

She checked her watch. It was nearly six p.m. Normal would be to bathe and primp for her first real date in forever. With a sexy firefighter. She could almost hear Mike in her mind, Atta girl, Viv. Time to move on, sweetheart.

Gage stood in front of Herman's door, pausing to clear his throat and take a deep breath before he knocked.

A moment later, really too quickly for her not to have been hovering there, Viv opened the door.

Taking in the sight of her, he nearly let his jaw drop but caught himself just in time.

Viviana Moore looked every inch the sexy siren her author photo promised on her website. He knew because Coop had emailed him a link. All the guys had emailed him links to her pictures and to naughty excerpts from her books. Maybe another guy would be intimidated by her wide knowledge of kink, but Gage was a card-carrying member of La Forge. There, Gage had seen and done plenty. If the woman wanted to play, he was her man.

And she certainly looked as though she wanted something. Her gaze skimmed his body, and he was glad he hadn't opted for his usual T-shirt and jeans but instead wore a buttoned shirt, sleeves rolled at the wrist, and dark khaki pants. Her gaze snagged on his chest again, doing that little side-to-side glance, which gave him time to look as well.

Barely breathing, he took her in. Her dark hair was smooth. The edges that touched her shoulders looked soft, like feathers. She wore makeup—a pretty, shiny peach on her eyelids and smoke at the edges. But she hadn't gunked up her eyelashes with mascara. They looked naturally dark and thick. Her lips. Lord, looking at her mouth glossed with red made his cock feel heavy because, hell, he could already imagine where he'd love for her to lose that gloss.

Quickly, he glanced downward, but there was no help for his growing arousal there. Viviana was…voluptuous. Not a word he used ever , but it fit. Her shape was extra curvy, with nice full breasts, an indented waist, and broad hips. Lord, he loved a well-padded ass and had no doubts hers would make him want to howl. But first things first. "You still up for cooking? You don't have to—"

"Yes. Please," she said, her voice as soft as the rest of her.

"Okay," he murmured and stepped to the side, indicating with his hand toward the inside of his apartment.

Following closely, he was just as appreciative of the view of her back and bottom. If I'm reading her wrong, I'm in all kinds of trouble.

Since the floor plan for his apartment was identical to Herman's, she had no trouble finding the kitchen. He'd laid steaks on a platter on the counter, pans on the stove. Potatoes were already washed, quartered, and sitting in a colander in the sink. He'd stripped corn husks and set the ears to boil.

She pushed up her sleeves and headed straight to the steaks.

"Would you like a glass of wine while you cook?" he asked.

"That would be nice."

But she didn't pause to even glance back, going to work with a focus he found amusing.

By the time he'd opened the bottle and poured her drink, she'd already rubbed the steak with spices and heated a little oil in a pan. Before too long, the aroma of cooking meat filled the apartment. She washed her hands and reached for the glass of Merlot he'd poured.

Then her glance traveled around the open space. His kitchen was open to the living and dining area. And for once, he wished he'd spent a little time making it…nicer. Sure, it was functional. The leather couch was deep but scarred. He didn't have much furniture, just a table to set his beer on, a cabinet for his TV and DVD collection. Hand weights were stacked in the corner.

The walls were another thing, covered in pictures—of his firehouse and team, of the places he'd traveled.

"You've been to St. Thomas?" she said, striding toward one larger picture of him with Billy and Coop. A trip they'd taken before Billy had married.

"Yeah. It was a good trip. Didn't do much. Sat on a beach, fished. Mostly drank too much with my buddies."

"Sounds like fun."

"It was." Gage forced a smile when her glance cut his way. He didn't want to think about Billy. Most days, he didn't look at the picture at all. Why hadn't he stored it away?

"That's Coop," she said, pointing at his friend.

"Yeah, you met him yesterday." When her gaze landed on Billy, he took a deep breath. "That's Billy Truitt. We lost him last year."

She turned more slowly this time to look at him. "Was it a fire?"

He nodded, and she reached out, touching his forearm. "I'm sorry."

Gage gave her a tight smile. "He was a good guy. Left a family behind."

She shook her head. "I know about loss, Gage."

And then she did something that stole his breath. She leaned in to him and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a squeeze before backing away. "I better turn those steaks."

As she walked away, he could still feel the impression of her body against him, and he didn't know what it meant, but she'd felt just right. Perfect. All those soft curves flush against him. Again, his body tightened.

Dinner was quiet. They both tucked into their meal, and from the first bite, he didn't have to lie about how much he enjoyed it. She blushed every time she caught him staring.

"So, did the guys give you a hard time about me visiting yesterday?" she asked as she pushed back her empty plate.

"They had fun with the flowers," he muttered.

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Yeah, someone tore up some of the roses and spread petals on my bunk. Another put a flower on my pillow."

She chuckled, and her smile was wide. "Sorry about that."

"The roses were better than the constant taunts about YouTube comments."

Her cheeks flushed darker. "I don't know what you have to be embarrassed about."

"I was the naked one."

"But you're…perfect," she said, waving a hand toward his body.

"And you think you aren't?" When her expression tightened, he knew that was exactly what she thought. "Seriously, Viviana?" He stood, reached for her hand, and pulled her from her chair. He raked his gaze over her. "There isn't a man in that firehouse who isn't envious of me being here with you."

She tucked her hair behind one ear but didn't meet his gaze. "You don't have to flatter me. I'll have sex with you."

He stared as her cheeks turned a deeper red. "I don't know whether to be insulted or to kiss you."

"I hope it's the kiss, because I think my mouth needs to be busy before I say something else stupid."

He tucked a finger under her chin and raised her face, forcing her gaze to meet his. "Baby, you're hot. There's not an inch of you I don't want to touch or kiss. So don't rush this if you don't want me all over you." Her jaw sagged, and he tipped it upward again, closing her mouth. "You don't know you're gorgeous?"

"I'm fat."

He shook his head. "Do I look like I'm not attracted?" When she still looked doubtful, he reached for her hand and brought it to his cock. "Think I'm this way for every woman I meet?"

She gave a little shrug, which angered him, and he pressed her hand around him, molding her fingers over his thickness. "Since the first second I saw you in your underwear, I've been ready. Hard. Fucking hoping for a chance."

She swallowed and gave him a look from under the thick fringe of her dark lashes. "Why did you waste so much time?"

As though she'd tossed a lit match at kerosene, he ignited, pulling her against him.

She hesitated for only a moment before pressing closer, mashing her breasts against his chest, rubbing her belly against his hardness. When he slanted his head, she was there, opening her mouth, accepting his kiss, inviting him inside.

Gage groaned and wrapped his arms around her, one hand reaching for her well-rounded bottom, the fingers of his other hand sinking into her silky hair to hold her still while he ravaged her mouth.

She was sweet and hot, and all that softness was his to push against, and he did, letting her know he wasn't going to be gentle, that he was damn near desperate now to be inside her.

She tugged at his shirt, freeing it from his pants, and then glided her warm hands up his back, nails raking his skin. A quiver shook him, and he drew back, bent, and picked her up. Her yelp was satisfying as he carried her down the hallway leading to his bedroom. He gave her a narrowed glare. "I'm a fireman. Think I can't handle you?"

She gave him an equally hot glare. "Do you always talk so much?"

He grunted and angled his way into his bedroom, taking three more steps before he dumped her onto his bed. Then he went to work, stripping quickly. Her eyes widened. "You've seen everything," he said. "Don't you think it's my turn?"

She shimmied out of her shirt, kicked her heels toward the floor, and wriggled out of her leggings. By the time he was nude, she wore only blush-colored scraps of underwear—a bra with cups that supported but didn't cover a thing and bikini panties that hid too much.

After cloaking himself in a condom, he crawled onto the mattress—so quickly she startled and scrambled backward, but he didn't let her retreat far, grabbing an ankle and pulling her across the cotton coverlet toward him, her other leg still bent as she tried to push away. But he was already there, already running his mouth up the smooth skin of her inner thigh. When he kissed her pussy through her panties, she reached down to push back his face, but he nuzzled under her hand and licked the material, following the length of her slit and ending at the top of her folds. There, he latched on to her, sucking, wetting the material until it was no barrier at all, and she was shaking.

When she pumped her hips against his mouth, he gripped the thinnest section of her panties and ripped them, laying the material open before bending again and touching her clit with his tongue. Fuck, she was wet. He wanted her wild. Wanted her clawing at him. Needed to know he could get her off like this. With just his tongue.

He thumbed up the hood and rubbed the flat of his tongue over her sensitive nubbin, listening as she hissed, watching as she writhed and arched. So beautiful. Still wearing that useless bra. Pausing, he raised his head to stare at it. "Take it off."

Her eyelids were lowered but not closed. She knew he watched. Smoothing her hands over the tops of her breasts, she plumped them up, slipping fingers beneath the cups to fondle her nipples.

Gage opened his mouth and drew on her clit, sucking so hard her legs drew up and wide, and she mewed like a kitten up a tree. At last, unsnapping the bra and drawing away the sides, her hands molded her breasts and pushed them toward him, offering him a glimpse of cherry nipples.

A temptation he couldn't resist. He gave her mound a kiss and climbed upward, rubbing his chest over her belly, her breasts, letting his cock slide up her inner thigh and between her folds. He gave her a nudge, and then another, not entering. Waiting for her to be sure.

When she wrapped her hand around his length and pulled him upward, forcing him deeper, he dropped his head beside hers and turned to lock their gazes. "You still okay with this?"

"I will be," she said, her voice taut. She dug her fingernails into his backside.

He flexed his hips and burrowed his cock deeper in her slick heat. "Careful," he said, nipping her jaw, and then her bottom lip. "This might get rough."

"A girl can hope."

Rising above her, he braced his weight on his arms and plunged inside her.

Viv tilted her head, pushing into the pillow beneath her, and stared at the ceiling. God, this feeling. She'd fucking missed it so much. So…fucking…much . He was hard and huge, and plowing her with vigor, something she couldn't return because he took away her breath, each plunge expelling the air from her lungs in hard gusts. She stopped worrying about keeping her belly and breasts tensed to keep them from jiggling, let her hands fall beside her head on the pillow and gave herself over to the pleasure of having a strong man pound inside her.

His thrusts were powerful, full-length, never ending. His girth filled her, raking her inner walls, building heat and friction, and she was approaching the summit, ready to come. She raised her knees, braced her heels against the mattress, and lifted her hips to accept more of him, rocking her head as she gloried in his full-throttle thrusts.

When she crested, she didn't make a sound, simply held her breath and exploded.

He withdrew and moved outside her opened legs. He turned her, positioned himself behind her, gripped her hips to raise her ass, and plunged back inside. And she didn't care, couldn't do more than clench the bedding in her fists and moan.

He was a storm breaking over her, his body molding over her back as he continued to pump hard, his groin and belly slapping against her, the moist, slick sounds so lewd and beautiful she squeezed her eyes shut as she was transported to another time with another man.

"Mike!" she cried out as another wave crashed over her.

The moment froze. Gage froze. Still lodged deep, he bent toward her ear. "Crazy as this sounds," he rasped, "I was hoping you'd scream my name."

"Sorry," she said, shaking. "Sorry. Please, don't stop."

"Yes, ma'am," he growled and glided again, in and out, this time without quite so much fury. This time, raking his cock against the spongy spot of nerves inside her, his motions more deliberate. The tension in the body pressed against her back was more pronounced. "Baby, now," he whispered, and delivered shorter, targeted thrusts that built the tension inside her again. Quickly, too quickly, she was shooting over the edge.

When he slowed his movements, she held her breath, feeling deflated. Angry with herself. She hadn't wanted to strike a single negative chord. But she had. In the worst way possible.

When he pulled free, he moved away from her to lie on his back, an arm covering his upper face as sweat dried on his skin.

He didn't say a word, and she knew it was up to her to explain. She lay on her side, facing him and drawing up her knees toward her chest. "Mike…was my husband."

His breaths evened. He lowered his arm and aimed a glance her way. His expression was closed. His jaw tight.

"He died in Afghanistan. I haven't been with anyone else. Not before. Not after."

His taut features softened. For a long, charged moment, he simply stared. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She gave him a tiny smile, feeling foolish. Here she was lying naked and winded after having two amazing orgasms, and she felt like crying. But that wouldn't be fair. Not to him. "I should probably go."

"Do you want to go?"

Viv fought back tears. She was more embarrassed now for being such a basket case than being nude with this man. "Not really, but I'm about to get soggy."

Gage's mouth twitched. "The bed's already soggy. But if you want to cry, I'm not afraid."

What an amazing thing for him to say. If she'd written him, he couldn't have said a more perfect thing. "I don't want to cry." But already, she felt her chin beginning to wobble.

He turned, opened his arms, and waited as she straightened and slid over. When his arms were around her, holding her against his chest, she glanced into his dark eyes. "Thank you."

His smile was a quick flash of white against his tanned face. "That's supposed to be my line, sweetheart. I'm a happy man. Perfect dinner. Perfect woman in my arms. Hottest sex I can ever remember."

"I said it before; you don't have to flatter me."

"I wasn't." He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. "You lost all your lipstick."

She knew what he was doing. Distracting her. Trying to make her laugh. And already, her tears had dried. Could he get any more attractive? She liked his gruff manner of speech and his innate kindness, although she was pretty sure he didn't show it often. "No, I didn't lose my lipstick," she said and rubbed his bottom lip. "Found it."

His mouth curved, glossed with a hint of red. "Think you might like to stay tonight?"

She'd been prepared to have sex with him. Hot, dirty, quick sex. He wanted more. She held still, expecting to feel a twinge of guilt, but it never came. Snuggling her hips closer, she gave him a small smile. "You do know what I do for a living, right?"

Gage's one-sided grin was full of devilment. "I do. But, sweetheart, you should know something about me, too." He drew nearer, then whispered in her ear, "I'm pretty handy with a rope."