Raging Fires by Candace Camp
Chapter Eighteen
They had forgotten about the movie completely about half-way in. Jake couldn’t have told you the name of the series now that he was standing here at the foot of the bed. All he could think about was how soft Kelli’s hands felt drifting over his shoulders, light as a feather, going lower, caressing his nipples, rippling over his abs. Her pressure increased and he let out a low moan. The jangling of a button filled his head with thoughts of what would happen next. He remembered everything about Kelli. About every single time they’d been together. She’d done things to him no one else could come close to.
Her tongue flicked out and started to follow the path her hands had made as she slowly unzipped his jeans. She made a move to drop to her knees, but he grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Not yet.” Everything in him was thrumming, pulsing, ready. But he wanted to see her.
“Take off your clothes first.” He waited a long moment, the need in him growing even more.
And then, without a word, Kelli pulled off her tank top. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts were even more beautiful than he remembered. The perfect size and shape, and, he was sure, just as soft. But he restrained himself, keeping his hands at his side.
“No. Take off all your clothes.”
She shimmied out of her jeans and he followed every movement with his eyes. God, he wanted to be inside her. On top of her. Making her moan. But first he wanted to hear how much she had missed it. How much she had missed him. How no one else had felt like him. He knew for a fact that no other woman had been anything like her.
“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
Hooking her fingers under the delicate edge of her thong, she pulled it down. She stood back up, perfectly naked. She looked even less vulnerable this way. She was all strength. He’d always loved that about her. There was no shyness in her eyes as they locked on him. “I want you. I want you moving inside me. Filling me until it almost hurts. I just want you, Jake. Jake…”
“Jake.” The voice was soft and quiet, the hand on his bare back warm. He let out a little murmur of pleasure and turned his head, opening his eyes. Kelli’s face was close above him, her loose hair touching his cheek. He smiled dreamily. “Hey, babe.” He started to roll over, his hand reaching for the sheet to let her slide in next to him.
“Jake!” Her voice was a hiss, and she poked him in the shoulder. Hard. “Wake up.”
He blinked, reality settling in. He scowled. “What the hell?” For some reason, he responded in the same low whisper.
“I think there’s someone outside.”
That brought him fully awake, and he sat up, remembering just in time to grab the sheet so he didn’t completely expose himself. “Why? What happened?”
“I heard a noise outside my window,” she whispered. “It woke me up. Like the shrub rubbing against the window screen.”
“Just the wind making it move.” His heart settled down, and he flopped back on the bed. If he was lucky, maybe he could get back into that dream where Kelli was naked and—
“No! Jake! It wasn’t the wind. I heard it again over at the bar. I think somebody’s trying to break into the Blue.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Man, you are really not a spring-into-action guy.”
“You woke me up from a very, very good dream.”
A flash of jealousy flitted across Kelli’s face, and he was glad he hadn’t said it was about her. Let her wonder. He made a shooing motion. “I’m getting up, and I’m not wearing anything.”
“Why are you not wearing anything? We discussed your ‘clothing is optional stance’ during the Rules.”
“That was before you told me I couldn’t crank up the A/C anymore. It’s too hot to sleep in anything when the house is 80 degrees.”
“It is not 80. I have the thermostat on 76.”
“That’s still what people in Norway would call a summer heatwave.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing I don’t live in Norway.”
She swung around, making a big show of not looking at him. Which was good because he was still as rock hard as she’d made him in his dream. He grabbed the shorts he’d discarded on the floor beside him and pulled them on, standing up and trying to adjust himself. Well, at least it was dark. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
“Listen, Kell, I can follow the A/C rule or the ‘all clothes all the time’ rule. I can’t do both. Why don’t you just let me pay the bill and you can wear a hoodie? It’s the practical solution.”
He knew she hated when he talked about her being impractical, but he wasn’t going to get heatstroke in his own house just to make her happy. She wasn’t even really his wife anymore.
“Fine. We can keep the A/C at 72 and you can pay three fourths of the bill. Final offer.”
“Agreed.” Luckily all the negotiating had given him enough time to calm down. There was hardly anything for Kelli to notice at this point. She’d have to really be looking. Crap. Even just thinking about her really looking made him stiffer. Which reminded him. “I need a bat.”
“A what?” She twisted back, looking at him like he was nuts.
“A baseball bat. You know, for a weapon.”
“I don’t have a baseball bat.” She could do irritated-as-hell even in a whisper.
“How can you not have a baseball bat?”
“Because I don’t play baseball?” She crossed her arms.
“Well, neither do I. Anymore. But I—”
“Jake!” Kelli grabbed his arm.
“Ow.” Damn, her fingernails could really dig into you. “Okay, okay. Well, something else I could use, like a stick. A mop?”
She nodded and slipped away. He felt around for his shoes. He didn’t want to have to run after some guy in his bare feet. His fingers fell on his flip-flops, which were better than nothing, so he stepped into them. By then Kelli was back, holding out a plastic stick.
“A Swiffer?” His voice rose. “Are you kidding? I said a mop. Long wooden handle? Metal head?”
“Shhh…” she hissed. “Keep your voice down. I’m not a school janitor from an eighties Movie, Jake. I don’t have a mop.”
He sighed in disgust and pulled the Swiffer from her hands. He sincerely hoped she was wrong about there being anyone out there because he looked like an idiot in gym shorts and flip-flops, carrying a Swiffer. Jake headed for the door, Kelli right behind him, and opened the door a few inches to look out across the parking lot. Kelli squeezed in close to look out, too. She rested one hand on his back; her hair brushed his arm.
“You see anything?” she whispered.
Her breath touched his skin. He swallowed, not really registering anything in front of him, and he gripped the handle like it was a life preserver. There was a thud over behind the dumpster, followed by a clang of metal hitting metal and rolling. Kelli jumped. And, yes, he’d admit it: he jumped too.
Jake opened the door wider and slipped through. “Stay here.”
Naturally, she was right on his heels, her hand still resting on his back. “Are you crazy? I’m not staying here by myself.”
He went silently down the steps. Kelli bent and scooped up a potted plant that sat on the porch. A Swiffer and a potted plant. They were really a terrifying duo. He grasped his weapon in both hands like a bat, ready to swing, and broke into a run. He rounded the dumpster with a roar, Swiffer raised, and stopped abruptly. Kelli slammed into his back.
“A dog,” Jake said in disgust. “Jesus Christ. It’s just a dog.”
A thin, mangy-looking animal slunk into the faint shelter of the plastic crates and a couple of empty paint cans that he’d just knocked over. He quivered, back against the wall, tail tucked and head lowered. He was a mutt, a mix of who-knows-what about the size of a Labrador, his brown and black fur matted and dirty, with a scraggly tail. An old scar crossed his muzzle, and one of his ears was missing a little chunk.
“Awww,” Kelli said. “Look at him. He’s scared.”
“You would be too if some screaming maniac charged at you with a Swiffer.”
She set down her pot and stepped around Jake, going closer to the dog. “Poor thing. He’s so thin.”
“Kelli, don’t get close to him. He might bite you. He could have rabies or something.”
Kelli turned to give him the full effect of her massive eye-roll. “Look at him; he’s cowering. Poor little guy.” She squatted down and held out her hand toward the dog. “Hello, buddy. Don’t be scared. We won’t hurt you.”
“Kell...” Jake sighed. She was going to feed it. She was going to feed it and give it water, and they’d have the scrungy stray hanging around forever.
The dog crept closer to Kelli, head still low and tail slightly wagging. “There you go. Good boy.” Kelli reached out and stroked the dog’s head. “You are so dirty,” she cooed. “And I bet you’re just covered in lice and ticks.”
“Yes,” Jake added firmly. “Don’t let him in the house or we’ll be infested.”
“I know. I’m not going to bring him inside.” She stood up. “I’m going to get him some food. Don’t let him leave, Jake.”
“Yeah, right.” Like the dog wasn’t already trotting right behind Kelli. He clearly knew a sucker when he saw one.
Jake picked up the plant and the Swiffer and followed. Kelli slipped inside, deftly keeping her newfound love out with a foot. The dog sat down and whined at the door. Jake knew how he felt. He set the plant back down by the steps and leaned the Swiffer against the wall. Then he stood, shoulder to one of the porch posts—which he had painted, not Mr. Man-bun—and waited for Kelli to re-emerge. She slipped out of the door, a plate of ground beef in hand and set it down on the porch, which was no mean feat since the dog was already jumping for it.
“I was going to grill burgers with that tomorrow,” Jake protested.
“Are you serious? Are you going to refuse to share with a poor starving animal?”
“You could have at least given him that smelly fish instead.”
“Salmon is good for you. It has good fats, and that’s important. Stephanie says—”
“Wait. What? Stephanie? Moran’s wife?”
She nodded. “I told you I had coffee with her last week. She said Neil eats it at least once a week.”
Jake groaned and wiped his hand down his face. “So now I’m getting diet tips from Neil Moran.”
“Who better? You told me you were studying the mechanics of his throw.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. Jake didn’t really care what they were talking about. He was enjoying the hell out of looking at Kelli. Maybe it was worth burning up all night long if it meant she was wearing this little outfit around the house in the mornings.
Her sleep shorts were loose but showed a lot of leg and were made of some silky material that would feel really good beneath his fingers. The top was even better, the same material, with little spaghetti straps that tied in bows and would be so easy to tug apart. The material was soft enough that the points of her nipples thrust against it. Her hair was down and all sleep-tangled. And though it didn’t seem possible, he really thought she was sexier than she had been four years ago.
He was an idiot, of course, to set himself up this way. The past two weeks had been torture, sticking to her rules, steering clear of her. Her scent was everywhere, permeating the bathroom after she took a shower. One day he’d gone in and sniffed her shampoo like a creep. She was there every morning in a t-shirt or tank top and shorts, her hair up in a messy knot, scrambling eggs while he brewed coffee and put in the toast, a chore he’d taken on so he could put in bread that was made from actual wheat.
That sleepy, quiet time was the most harmonious they ever were, almost like the past, and once or twice he’d had to stop himself from going to her at the stove and curling an arm around her waist, lifting her hair to kiss the back of her neck.
The dumbest thing of all was that in the evenings when she wasn’t there to stir him up, he sometimes went over to the Blue for a beer and watched her. Or, at least, the dumbest thing until tonight when he’d sat there on the couch with her, separated by only a couple of feet, so close he could touch her, bantering back and forth about a horror movie.
It had been like old times—only, you know, without the love part. He’d spent half his time looking over at her instead of the screen, and the rest of it imagining her coming across the couch and sitting down astride him.
He’d gone to bed wanting her, and then there was that dream, sultry and sweet, Kelli’s body on his, her hands gliding over him, his own fingers sliding into that sweet spot between her legs, hot and wet and ready for him.
Remembering all that and looking at Kelli now in the flimsy garments, there was nothing in his mind except visions of being in her bed, being in her, sheathed in that tight heat. How in the hell was he going to last through a year of this?
Kelli, of course, wasn’t thinking of anything but the stray dog, who had just wolfed down Jake’s dinner tomorrow and was standing there, wagging his tail hopefully. “No, no more for you right now,” Kelli told him, patting his head. “You eat too much all at once and you’ll get sick.” She looked up at Jake. “We need to think of a name for him.”
“Why?”
“So we can call him something besides boy.”
“How about Toby?”
“Jake…” Kelli gave him a stern look.
“What? It’s a perfect dog name. It’s just guys that shouldn’t be named Toby.” This was almost enough to make Jake like the dog.
“We are not naming him Toby.” She crossed her arms and stared out across the parking lot, tapping one foot. After a moment, she said, “What about Traveler?”
“Huh? What about a traveler?”
“For a name. That’s what we were talking about.”
“You were talking about a name,” Jake told her, then added, “I already have one: Toby.”
Kelli gave him one of those fake glares—the kind that he enjoyed, not the real one that could stab you through the heart. Or, at least, he thought it was fake. She whirled and went back in, returning with a bowl of water. She bent over to set the bowl down on the porch, presenting Jake with a perfect view of her rounded ass. He turned away before he could do something stupid. Like caress her arm. Or kiss her. Or, you know, rip off those shorts and squeeze that oh-so-squeezable ass.
But he’d promised her he wouldn’t. And he wasn’t going to break his promise. He was mature now and steady. Most of all, he wasn’t about to give Kelli the satisfaction of proving her right.
He’d just go to bed and lie awake the whole night, thinking about it.