Burns So Bad (Smoke Jumpers), page 4
Like there was any hope of that.
The music howled, the cowboy singer loud in his praises of Saturday night honkytonk, and Mack vined, the dance move setting his steel-toes tap-tap-tapping. He must have seen something on Rio’s face—or was just plain feeling charitable—because Mack sashayed back, leaving room for Rio to step up.
Gia spun back, laughing. Gotcha. Unaware that he’d joined in the fun, she slammed into him. Déjà vu.
He steadied her with his hands on her hips, savoring her warmth through the faded denim. Flexing his fingers, he repointed her in the right direction, waiting for her feet to rediscover the song’s rhythm.
“Wow, Donovan.” She blinked at him “Give a girl some warning, would you?”
Damned if he didn’t want to kiss the surprised look right off her face. Or put it back there for a whole different reason.
Mack slung a hand around her waist, dragging her back into the line. “Cut the man some slack, Jackson. He just wants to make sure you appreciate he’s been working out.”
Gia’s eyes dropped down Rio’s body and he felt her passing glance like a lover’s hand wrapping around his good parts and squeezing in all the right ways. Predictably, his dick sprang straight to attention, leaving him rock-hard for his jump partner. Which probably was a testament to how long his current sexual dry spell had been.
Nothing more.
Mack danced Gia down the line. Rio hadn’t planned on letting go, but his fingers slipping away from her hips and maybe—although he wouldn’t admit it—brushing her ass. He didn’t want to dance, but he did want to get his hands on Gia. Since dancing was the only way to do that right now, he tucked his thumbs in his belt and let his feet find the rhythm of the country song.
Rio was a good dancer. He’d always excelled at anything physical.
Gia was—enthusiastic.
She sashayed back up the line, not quite to the beat, laughing and calling something over her shoulder to Mack. Rio was fairly certain her parting shot had included at least one obscenity. His partner had a potty mouth. Her eyes, though, were happy. He thought about that for a moment, but that was the right word. And Gia enjoying herself was a sight to see. He was used to seeing her tightly disciplined and focused, with eyes for nothing but her LZ and the waiting fire.
Except when she had her arms around him. Of course, she’d been rescuing his ass—if he was being fair, which he wasn’t inclined to be, not right now—and her options had been hold on tight or let go. Since he still wasn’t a fan of freefalling sans chute, he was glad she’d decided to hold on.
The problem was, that almost embrace had him imagining other scenarios where she held him wholeheartedly.
The fundamental problem with line dancing was that no one needed a partner. There was also not much in the touching department. Trading Ma’s in for a Regency ballroom and a waltz had never seemed like a better idea.
Snagging her wrist, he pulled her into line next to him.
“Dance with me.”
She shot him a look—as if he’d forgotten what they were doing—but she popped into the line beside him as Bob Segar belted out of the jukebox. He could have told her that he’d known where she was and what she was doing the entire summer. But that would have been creepy and the last thing he wanted to do was drive her away.
Because he wanted to pull her close.
“Tush push!” Mack bellowed. Joey sent up an answering whoop from his left and then the whole line exploded, boots stomping the floor as the team swung into action to the mellow tones of the sex and Segar’s voice rasping nostalgically.
Heel toe heel heel. Right foot, left foot.
Mimi had invested in bar stools, not dance floor, and thank God there was no space to spare. Each time Gia scooted, her hips brushed his. When her hands swung up, clapping enthusiastically, her fingertips brushed Rio’s chest. Thank God for small spaces.
One and two and three and four—
The tush push shoved her ass and hips forward and then back. Thanks to the limited dance floor her sweet curves brushed his front. His arms enveloped her as he clapped over her head. That was as close as he was getting to holding her tonight, unless his luck changed. He didn’t want to need her like this, to spend every minute plotting to get closer. That wasn’t how he rolled. Wasn’t who he was. He didn’t do need. Except when he was around Gia Jackson.
She grooved, her body finally catching up with the music, swinging her hips in one sexy circle. He danced along, because, really, watching the faded denim pull tight over her hips and ass was no hardship at all.
Cha-cha forward. Back. The blood in his dick thumped out a drumbeat all its own, reminding him that his sexual dry spell had gone on for far too long. Off-limits, he reminded his southern parts. He could dance with her—he just couldn’t sleep with her.
One, two, three four.His thigh brushed hers as she missed the count and stepped early, hopping on one foot to rediscover her place in the line. Five, six. Her fingers bounced off his hip as she moved.
The heel of her boot planted itself on his toes. He grinned and leaned in. “You’re a lethal weapon, Jackson,” he growled against her ear.
Tipping her head back, she smiled up at him. “Suck it up, golden boy. You’ve got a pair of steel-toes.”
Her hair brushed his cheek—because he might, just might, have angled his face towards hers—and he sucked in a deep breath of coconut-scented Suave.
Seven, eight.
He could have kept dancing all night.
###
Gia collapsed in the booth, resting her feet. The damned cowboy boots were nowhere near as comfortable as they looked, even if the red leather had screamed Buy me when she spotted the pair on Macy’s sale rack. She considered slipping them off underneath the table but decided against it. Riling Mimi up with a health and safety code violation probably wasn’t prudent if she wanted the bar’s owner to give her a ride home.
Plus, Mimi’s tequila packed a punch.
If she took the boots off, her body might assume that was a memo to relax completely and go to sleep. Not her best plan. She’d heard that was how Evan had met his soon-to-be wife. Faye Duncan had given in to the tireds in Ma’s and Evan had scooped her up. Gia didn’t want a diamond ring or a trip down the aisle herself, but Evan seemed happy enough. He’d pulled Faye out of the line and he was slow-dancing her to a tune only the two of them could hear, his big arms wrapped tightly around her.
There were worse fates.
Maybe she should try dating again.
There were other pretty fish in the sea besides Rio Donovan, and surely her hormones could pick an alternate man. He couldn’t possibly be the only one to get her all worked up. Evan bent his head and kissed Faye, Gia looked away. Was being a great kisser a family thing?
Not going there, she reminded herself.
The bar was a happy blur and she could feel herself relaxing for the first time in weeks. Of course, maybe that was because she wasn’t pussyfooting around her jump partner. She had to do something about the way he looked at her. Other people were starting to notice. The problem was, she liked the way it made her feel. It probably didn’t mean much of anything—Rio loved women, loved touching—but she warmed right up inside when his dark eyes slid over her and then paused like he’d found something he liked.
Had he fantasized about kissing her?
Once again, so not tonight’s problem. She munched a few peanuts and curled up in the booth, her head tipping back against the booth. Five minutes. She’d close her eyes for just five minutes and then—
“You’re not driving.”
Gia’s head snapped forward with a jerk. She blinked sleepily up at the big body blocking her view of the bar. Yep. That was Rio leaning in and cutting off her exit route. “Of course not. I’m not stupid or suicidal.”
He didn’t touch the opening she’d handed him. Instead, he tucked a hand beneath her elbow and gently tugged her forward. “I’ll take you home.”
Newsflash. He still looked at her like he wanted to eat her up.
Her girly bits were fine with that.
Her head? Not so much.
“No need.” She pulled back, waving a hand toward the bar. “I’m bumming a ride from Mimi.”
“I’ll take you,” he repeated. “The bar doesn’t close for another hour and you’re asleep sitting up.”
True.
“You’re on my way,” he continued. “Hell, we could drive to my place and you could walk home. Your cabin is six down from mine. But, if you ask nicely, I’ll stop the truck in front of your door.”
He held out his hand and grinned at her. His other hand swiped her purse from the table.
She thought about the offer for a minute, more to prolong the moment than out of any true hesitation. It probably counted as sad and pathetic that her dance with Rio was the closest she’d gotten to any action lately. Or that she liked the way he held her hand now.
“An offer I can’t pass up? I’m in.” She slid out of the booth, brushing against him as she stood up.
Most of the jump team had left while she’d been holding her snooze fest in the booth, and only a small handful of regulars propped up the bar. She caught Mimi’s eye and waved as Rio steered her toward the door. Don’t need a ride she mouthed and Mimi shot her a thumbs up.
It was just a ride, but she appreciated the vote of confidence.
Rio didn’t say anything else as they crunched their way across the parking lot gravel. The night air cleared her head some, although she still was better off riding shotgun. Rio’s truck was a big black sleek beast—parked next to hers. She hesitated, but she’d come back for the vehicle tomorrow.
Rio reached around her, popping open the passenger side door. The heavy weight of his hand burned into the small of her back as she grabbed the roll bar and swung up. He was probably afraid she’d fall on her ass in the parking lot. She considered the possibility and decided it was still on the table.
Damn tequila.
Rio’s truck was a mid-range with plenty of power. The tow rig said he meant business, but all the stuff in the back was neatly organized in milk crates. That he’d labeled, for crying out loud. She didn’t know anyone even made label makers anymore. That kind of organization effort was superhuman. She tried not to stare while she buckled up and got comfortable. Moments later, he dropped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. While she pretended he was the Strong taxi service, he drove them out of the parking lot and down Strong’s one main street, headed for the base camp where the jump team had a row of summer cabins. Since she didn’t need to provide directions, she had plenty of quiet time to stare at him.
His hands on the wheel, big and sure, effortlessly guided the truck down the road and over the occasional rut. He drove well, like he did everything. Which got her to thinking about what else he might do well.
And that was trouble she didn’t need to borrow.
As soon as they reached the cabins, she opened the door and jumped down before Rio could come around and get the door for her. She could feel him looking at her, but this wasn’t a date and she didn’t wait for a guy to lend her a hand when she had two perfectly good ones of her own.
There was probably a bad sexual pun in there, she thought muzzily as she fished in her purse for her key. Maybe she should borrow Rio’s label maker, because the bag needed a CDC intervention and her key was definitely not surfing the top layer of crap.
He plucked the bag from her hands and, wouldn’t you know it, found her key immediately. At least she wouldn’t be sleeping on the porch.
“Home sweet home,” she said. “You didn’t even make me walk.”
He grinned and bumped her shoulder with his, subtly steering her towards the porch of her cabin. She hadn’t bothered turning the light on before she’d left, so the front was pitch black.
“I can be a gentleman.”
“So I’ve heard.” Sometimes. The whispers promised Rio was a wild man in bed.The stories he told around the campfires were nothing compared to the rumors. He was big. He was bad. He was a damned Donovan, with the sensual creativity and drive to match. He also liked being in charge, if what she’d heard was true. Very, very much in charge.
Gia didn’t give up control.
But Rio tempted her.
He fell into step beside her, heat radiating from him. Yep. Definite temptation.
“You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Jackson.”
He’d called her Gia earlier. Now she was clearly back in the partner bucket.
“But it’s really good gossip,” she pointed out and clomped up the stairs. When she jabbed at the lock with her key, she missed. Definitely too much tequila.
“Let me.” His hand closed around hers and took the key away.
That sounded perfect. There were all sorts of things she was ready to let him do.
“Okay.” She leaned in toward him.
The key snicked in the lock and he opened the door with a flick of his wrist. “Gia? You might prefer sleeping inside.” A grin tugged the corner of his mouth. “As opposed to on the porch.”
When he smiled, she wanted to run her tongue over his bottom lip until he moaned. Bad libido.
“I’m not ready for bed,” she said and placed her hand on his chest.
He looked shocked—and that made her giggle. And move closer. She could feel the hard pounding of his heart trapped beneath her palm. “A man with your kind of reputation shouldn’t be so easy to shock. I’m disappointed.”
“Can’t have that,” he drawled. Bracing one hand against the doorframe, he snaked the other hand around her waist and drew her towards him.
###
Rio tightened his arm around Gia’s waist and swung her into the shadows. They weren’t entirely alone—no one ever was at base camp—but darkness created an illusion of privacy.
Arousal or tequila had pink flushing her cheekbones, and when she shifted her head, her chopped-off hair brushed the line of her jaw the way he wanted to.
“I’m kissing you now,” he warned. To hell with what he should or shouldn’t do. This was just a kiss and one kiss couldn’t possibly hurt.
And he was the king of rationalization.
“It’s about time.” She grinned and leaned back against the cabin.
He wanted her leaning into him, wanted her begging for more, so he gently thumbed the blouse away from the smooth skin of her shoulder. The soft fabric snagged on his calloused fingers then fell away. Hell yeah. He cupped her tanned shoulders and pulled her towards him, done waiting.
She deserved sweet, but he didn’t give it to her. No, he pulled her right up against him and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her there. The move pressed her breasts against his shirt and, even through the layers of clothing separating them, he could feel her.
Her nipples were hard. That was the one coherent thought left in his brain as he covered her mouth with his. She wanted him. And he could take advantage of that. He brushed his lips over hers, capturing her small gasp.
“See?” He whispered the question against the corner of her mouth. “Kissing.”
Her response was half-sigh, half-gasp, which he decided was all permission. He threaded a hand through her hair, tilting her head back. And kissed her. A raw, hot, possessive kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, familiarizing himself with the taste of her. He kissed her thoroughly, leaving nowhere untouched, and she moaned, opening wider, letting him take her mouth so completely, he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. His own heated response shouldn’t have been a surprise—hell, he’d started this and had the hard-on to prove it—but at some point their kiss stopped being an exercise in sensual dominance and became something more. Something he had no intention of stopping because, Christ, Gia Jackson could kiss.
###
Rio lifted his head and she wanted to groan in protest. To draw him back to her, but he had that look on his face. The one that said he wanted to do some more talking instead of more kissing.
“I don’t play nice in bed.” His eyes didn’t move from her face as he warned her, and yet she felt undressed. Naked.
“Maybe I don’t mind.” Leaning forward, she curled her fingers around his right arm. He had powerful biceps, probably from all that sailing he did. In fact, there was nothing soft about him, just a strangely attractive masculine power leashed beneath the skin. He could do whatever he wanted and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. That should have scared the piss out of her because she wasn’t ready for his kind of sexual games. But this was Rio. When push came to shove, he’d always do the right thing—and doing the right thing meant not hurting her. She believed that with everything she had.
“You should.” One hand braced against her door, he leaned into her. Now even going forward wasn’t an option. She was going to stay put until he let her go. “You should turn around, go inside and lock that door. Otherwise, I’ll be coming after you. I’ll have you naked and underneath me so fast, you won’t have time for regrets.”
Right now her only regret was that she’d decided he was off-limits for tonight.
“Maybe I don’t want to play nice,” she said, echoing his earlier words, and tugged him towards her. She knew her lips were swollen and damp from his touch, but the erection punching the front of his jeans promised he wanted more of her.
Instead, he stepped back. Suddenly, she had all the options in the world. Left, right, forward or backward. She had her pick, and all she wanted was Rio.
“Go inside, Gia. Dream of me,” he growled, tracing her lips with a finger. “You want us to stay professional, it’s up to you, because I’m warning you right now I plan on doing everything I can to make you want me, sweetheart. The next time I hold you, I’m taking what I want.”
Got it.
She leaned up and brushed his lips with hers. “Good night, hotshot.”
###
Rio spent the night not sleeping, so he was a cranky ass bastard the next morning and he knew it. After Gia had gone inside, he’d gotten back into his truck—reluctantly—and driven the short distance to his own place. Too much tequila for her, too much Gia for him. Unfortunately, he wanted more and that was a problem.
