Into The Flames (Firehouse Fourteen Book 4) (18 page)

What the fuck was he doing?

Dale closed his eyes, wishing the blackness would come back and claim him. Better to be lost in the darkness of his earlier mood than lying here, dealing with the guilt of what he'd done.

And what the hell did that say about him? About what he was becoming?

Nothing he wanted to admit.

He blew out a heavy breath, the sound a rushed whisper of air in the stillness of the room. He should get up. Find his clothes. Get dressed and go back to his own place.

Where he could wallow in his misery and guilt with no witnesses and no fear of temptation.

Melanie stirred beside him, a sweet little sigh escaping her as she rolled over. She shifted, her hand brushing against his hip. His cock twitched and he ground his teeth together, willing his body to not react to just that little touch. Too late.

What the fuck had he done?

What he'd done was use her, use her body. He'd lost control and gave in, forgetting himself, forgetting everything but the feel of her sweet body as he drove into her, over and over.

More than once.

Without a condom.

He'd realized his mistake the second time, had tried to pull away. And then she'd told him she was on birth control. It shouldn't have made a difference. Hell, it didn't make a difference—he hadn't known at first, hadn't cared because he'd been so focused on himself instead of protection, responsibility. He should have stopped, even after she told him. Should have realized what he was doing and stopped. Apologized. Gone home.

But he didn't. He kept using her, driving into her like he could drive away his demons. He'd used her, like he could somehow find himself by losing himself in her body.

Just one more sin, one more shortcoming for which he'd have to eventually answer.

So why was he still here? In Melanie's bed, with her body stretched out alongside his as she slept? He needed to leave, get out of here.

Except she wasn't sleeping. He felt her move, felt the gentle touch of her hand stroke the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. Higher, her fingers skimming the heavy weight of his balls before tracing the hard length of his cock. His body tensed and he reached for her hand, his fingers closing around her wrist.

"Don't." He pulled her hand away, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Her body stiffened, her confusion and hurt a living thing, wrapping over him. Accusing, smothering. He sighed and ran a hand down his face, then dropped his head onto his fists. Did he have to sound so angry? So accusing? Like his failures were her fault?

"Melanie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't—" His voice was still too rough, too harsh. He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry."

"The darkness is back."

He stiffened, hearing the quiet words but not understanding them. The darkness? Was she talking about him? How could she not be, when the description was so fitting?

All the more reason for him to get up and leave.

He placed his hands along the edge of the mattress, his fingers digging into the softness. All he had to do was push himself off, stand up and move and leave. A cool hand rested against his back, the touch gentle and soothing. Dale closed his eyes, clenched his jaw.

"What happened yesterday?"

That
was why he needed to leave, why he should have left a long time ago. Why he should have never come over here. He knew she'd ask, knew she would want to talk about it. And the way she asked should have surprised him. Worried him. Not
what was wrong
but
what happened yesterday
. Like she could see inside him, like she already knew.

"Nothing." He tried to shrug her hand off but it was too late. She was leaning against him, the soft weight of her breasts pressed against his back. Both hands were on him now, their touch gentle as she ran them down his arms. Her fingers spread and closed over his as she pressed a kiss against the back of his neck. Dale stiffened, afraid of her touch, afraid of his body's reaction to it.

"Melanie—"

"You're in pain. Let me help." She kissed his neck again, her hands moving back up his arms, over his chest. Over his heart. Dale stiffened and reached for her hands. Didn't she know how dangerous her offer was? How easy it would be for him to roll over on top of her, plunge into her welcoming heat, use her to forget?

Didn't she know what she asking of him? Didn't she realize he'd only lose more of himself if he did that? And yet it was so tempting. It would be so easy to do. To accept what she was offering, to take. And take.

And take.

"Melanie—" His voice trailed off, her name lost on a low moan as she tugged her hands from his and dragged them down across his body. One hand cupped around the length of his erection, stroking. Long, hard, sure. His head tilted back, his jaw clenched against the sensation of her cool hand around him. He couldn't—he should make her stop, tell her no.

He didn't have the strength to. He didn't
want
to, not when her touch was magical. Not when her touch made him forget.

She shifted behind him, moving until she was kneeling by his side. Her hair fell across his chest, the soft strands teasing his skin, burning him. She pushed against his shoulder, urging him back until he fell against the mattress, the tangled sheets cool under his skin.

And she kept stroking, up and down. Slow, so fucking slow. Her mouth closed around him, hot, wet. A groan escaped him, low and guttural, almost inhuman. He grabbed her head, wrapped his hand in the thick curls of her hair, holding her in place. He thrust his hips up, shoving himself deeper into her mouth. Wet, hot. So fucking hot.

Her nails dug into his thigh, her tongue swirling around his cock each time he thrust. Little moans floated in the air around them, soft whispers of desire as she sucked harder, faster. He clenched his jaw and raised up on his elbows, watching as her head moved up and down. Her hair fell around him like liquid fire, wrapping around his arm, teasing the flesh of his stomach and thighs. Burning, searing, torturing.

Fuck. He was so close, so fucking close. One deep thrust, that was all it would take. One deep thrust, forcing his cock to the back of her throat, exploding, spilling himself into her mouth.

No, not like that. Not now.

He bit back a curse, held himself still as she kept sucking. No, not like this.

Dale leaned down, grabbing her, pulling her away as he rolled to the side. She gasped, a throaty sigh of surprise and disappointment. He stood, facing her, pulling her to the edge of the mattress and spreading her legs. Her eyes widened as he stood there, staring down at her. At the tangle of hair spread around her face and shoulders. At her pale creamy skin, so soft and warm and alive. At the small strip of short fiery curls between her legs.

He ran his thumb along her clit, felt her legs shiver as he dipped the tip of his thumb inside her. Wet, so fucking wet. He pulled his thumb out, dragged it back up her clit, spreading her satiny moisture. He wanted inside her. Needed inside her. Now.

He grabbed her thighs, his hands dark against the creamy skin, and spread her legs further apart. Opening her, spreading her. Then he leaned forward and drove himself inside, heard her gasp of surprise as he buried himself.

Pulled out, thrust himself in once more. Slow, hard, her muscles clenching around his cock, trying to hold him in place. Squeezing, begging.

He threw his head back and groaned, holding himself still for a long minute. Fuck, she was so hot. Tight. Wet. Her pussy fitting around him like a silk glove. He pulled out, slow, until just the tip of his cock was inside her. Then he thrust his hips and drove into her, burying himself once more. Again and again, fast and hard.

She cried out, her hands closing around his, her grip tight. Dale forced his eyes open, looked down at her, his breath hitching in his chest at the beautiful sight. Her back was arched, her full breasts thrust upward, the tips of her dark peach nipples hard and erect. Her head was titled back, her neck stretched. Her teeth pulled at the fullness of her lower lip, her breath frozen in her chest. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful.

He pulled out, drove forward again. Once, twice. Her slick muscles clenching around his cock, holding him in place for one long exquisite second before exploding, quivering around him in short, sharp spasms. Her nails dug into his hands and she screamed his name, her hips thrusting against his.

He leaned forward, stretched out on top of her. He grabbed her hands, held them over her head, his grip hard as he kissed her. Claiming, possessing, his tongue thrusting into her mouth as he drove his hips into her, over and over.

His balls tightened, the deep ache growing as he plunged deeper inside her. He ripped his mouth from hers, tilted his head back. "Fuck. Smurfette—"

Her name died on his lips, replaced by a deep growl as everything coiled deep inside him, tighter and tighter until all control left, erupting in a firestorm of wildfire that danced along his skin. Burning, searing.

Consuming as he exploded inside her wet heat.

He collapsed on top of her, spent, sweaty. His chest heaved with each harsh breath, spots dancing across his closed lids as her muscles still quivered around him, gently slowing.

Seconds stretched into minutes, fluid yet meaningless. Air filled his lungs, filled with the scent of sex and fulfillment. Filled with Melanie's own scent, sweeter, inviting, magical.

He was still stretched out on top of her, his hands still holding hers in a tight grip above her head. He needed to move, he was too heavy for Melanie, he must be crushing her.

Melanie
.

The horror of what he'd done, what he'd called her, hit him with the force of a collapsing wall. What the fuck had he done? He couldn't even call her by the right fucking name? How could he have done that?

He rolled to the side and pushed himself off the bed. He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see the horror that must surely be on her face. Or the disappointment and accusation that was surely in her eyes.

"I'm sorry." The apology sounded empty to his own ears. Too rough, too throaty. He heard the rustle of the sheets as she moved behind him but he couldn't look at her. Where were his clothes? He needed to find his clothes, get dressed, get the fuck out of here.

Were they in the kitchen? No, he'd grabbed them and brought them into the room earlier. So where the fuck were they? There, on the floor by the foot of the bed.

"Dale—"

He interrupted her, not ready to her the disappointment in her voice. "I'm sorry. I need to go."

He stepped into the shorts and yanked them on. The sheets rustled more as she moved and then he felt the cool touch of her hand against his lower back. He stiffened and clutched his shirt in one fist.

"Dale, I—"

He stepped away, shaking his head. "I need to go."

She called his name again but he ignored her, his steps fast and heavy as he moved through her apartment. Like he was running away, like he was trying to escape.

What the fuck had he done?

He pulled the door closed behind him, hurried into his own apartment and slammed the door. If only he could close out the demons so easily. But he couldn't, not when they were inside him. Not when guilt tore at him, shredding him with razor-sharp claws.

He'd used her. Hard. More than once. He'd used her to forget, to lose himself.

And he
had
lost himself. He'd lost more than he bargained for.

What the fuck had he done?

A light breeze drifted past him, the early May evening air holding just a hint of chill. Not enough to make him get up and go get a jacket, though.

The only thing that could actually make Dale get up now was a call and so far, thankfully, they hadn't turned a wheel. The quiet suited him fine, gave him time to sit outside, away from everyone.

Away from the questions. Away from the glances or outright stares. Away from the meaningful talk that was only succeeding in driving him up a wall. He didn't need to talk, didn't need anyone's concern. Right now, all he needed was to be left alone.

He leaned back on the bench and stretched his legs out, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. The sun was hovering on the horizon, streaking the sky with a shades of oranges and pinks. The brighter colors mingled into the darker purple of twilight. It made him feel small, insignificant. Torn between light and dark, pulled in too many different directions, confused as to which way to go.

He blinked, watched the colors deepen as the sun sank even lower. Vibrant, bold. Somehow calming and confusing at the same time. And no matter how hard he tried not to, the colors made him think of Smurfette.

No. Melanie. Her name was Melanie.

Dale sighed and closed his eyes, shutting out the colors dancing across the sky. It didn't matter what he called her, because he hadn't seen her in six days. Not since he'd used her then ran from her apartment, bewildered and ashamed and horrified.

Not since the day after Lindsay's trial, when she refused to take the plea deal. When she surprised everyone and stood in front of the judge and changed her plea to guilty and been sentenced to three years.

Three fucking years. Why in the hell had she done that? She could have taken the plea and only served one year. One fucking year instead of three. What the hell had she been thinking? What had she been trying to prove?

Dale took a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, pushing in hard. It didn't help, didn't matter. The image of Lindsay standing in front of the courtroom was still crystal clear, like he was seeing it live in person instead of as a memory.

Standing there, next to her attorney, looking lost and alone as the man told the judge his client wanted to change her plea. Dale had realized what was happening before Lauren or his parents and had jumped up, telling her no.

Her back had stiffened at first, so like Lindsay with her attitude. Then she had turned and looked at him, looked at all of them with tears in her eyes. But for the first time since Dale could remember, her eyes were clear of attitude, clear of manipulation or ulterior motives. And then she had looked at him and smiled, just the barest lifting of her lips before she turned back to the judge and pled guilty.

She turned around again, tears streaming down her face, and apologized to Lauren, to their parents. Lindsay finally admitted to everything she'd done and accepted responsibility for her actions. But why had she done it like that? Why hadn't she accepted the plea deal?

There had been no surprise on her face, no regret when the judge sentenced her. And just before they took her away, her arms cuffed behind her back, she had turned and looked at him one more time.

"It's okay, because I know you'll always be there to carry me, right?"

Lauren and his parents had asked him later what she meant but he couldn't tell them. He couldn't share their earlier conversation. Or maybe it was that he wouldn't share it. That moment, that memory, would forever be between Lindsay and him.

"Fuck." He took a deep breath, let it out on a shaky sigh, then dropped his hands and stretched his arms along the back of the bench once more. The sun had disappeared below the horizon now, the sky shifting from twilight to night. He tried to tell himself it wasn't some kind of hokey sign or omen, thinking of his sister just as the light disappeared from the sky and day turned to night. Or light to dark. Or something equally depressing and dismal and completely unlike him.

He had enough fucking darkness in his life right now, he didn't need to go adding more to it by turning everything into an artsy metaphor.

And fuck. He didn't need to be thinking of words like
artsy
and
metaphor
either, especially not together. That was something Smurfette—Melanie!—would do. And he didn't want to go thinking about her, either.

What the fuck had happened to him? How the hell had his life gone to complete shit so quickly? He'd been coasting along, doing fine. Work, friends, the occasional no-strings-attached dates. He'd been happy. Or at least content.

He frowned then shifted on the hard bench, another breeze brushing across the skin of his bare arms.

Bullshit. Who did he think he was kidding? All he'd been doing was coasting and that was it. Content? Not really. He'd been miserable, especially the last six months. The only time he'd felt the stress and tension and worry leave him had been when he'd been with Smurfette.

Melanie
.

Dammit, why couldn't he think of her as Melanie?

Because she was Smurfette. She'd always be Smurfette.

Not that it mattered because he doubted he'd be seeing her anytime soon, unless they happened to pass each other in the hall. Or unless she locked herself out of her apartment again and needed help getting back in.

Yeah, right. Somehow he doubted she'd ask him for help, not after what he'd done last week. Not after the way he'd used her then ran away.

What did it say about him that his little sister ended up having more courage than he did? After everything that happened, everything she had done, Lindsay ended up being the stronger one. What a fucked up commentary on his life.

"You staying out here all night?"

Dale turned his head to the side, not surprised to see Adam walking toward him. He sighed and slid over, making room for him to sit. "Let me guess. You drew the short straw?"

"No." Adam glanced over and grinned. "I'm the only one who hasn't given you the third degree yet."

"Because you haven't been here."

Adam shrugged then looked away. His gaze focused on the deepening night stretching out before them. A few minutes went by, filled with a comfortable silence broken only by the occasional chatter coming from the radio. Knock-on-wood, still nothing for them.

"So. You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Yeah, didn't think so." Adam stretched his own legs out, his posture nearly a mirror image of Dale's. Except for the phone. Adam's phone was permanently attached to his hand, even right now. Dale glanced at it as the screen came to life with a ghostly glow, almost laughed when Adam's attention moved to the phone. He read whatever message had popped up, frowned, then started typing, his thumb moving at a rapid-fire pace across the screen.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to put the phone down every once in a while."

"Hm?" Adam looked up from the screen, his face comically blank, as if he hadn't heard Dale. His face cleared and he grinned before shoving the phone into his pocket. "I was trying to set up a date."

"By text message? Really?"

"Someone I met online."

Dale rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. How could he, when his own love-life was nonexistent now? Maybe he should look into that online thing. It couldn't hurt, right?

"So how's that work?"

"What?"

"The online thing. Is there somewhere you go or something?"

"Uh, yeah. Or something." Adam shifted, looking away. Dale got the impression he was suddenly uncomfortable, maybe even embarrassed. Why the hell would he be? Wasn't online dating the big thing now? He thought about pushing him, asking him why his face was turning red, then let it go.

"So how would I get started? If I wanted to do the online dating thing?"

"You?" Adam turned back, frowning. "I thought you had something going with your neighbor. What's her name? Melanie?"

"Yeah. No. I pretty much screwed that one up."

"That sucks. She was pretty nice."

Leave it to Adam to pare everything down to the bare basics.
Pretty nice
. No, Smurfette was more than
pretty nice
. But he couldn't tell Adam that, because then he'd ask for details and want to know what happened.

"You may as well go back inside. Just tell everyone I'll be fine. Just a few more days, and I'll be my old self again."

"Um, yeah. I'm thinking that's what everyone's afraid of."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I mean, you've just been—I don't know. Miserable or something. Even before all the shit with your sister."

Dale clenched his jaw and glared at Adam. The look went unnoticed. "I'll be fine."

"Fine. But Mikey said she's coming out next so if you'd rather talk to her…" Adam shrugged and let his voice trail off, the threat loud and clear.

Damn his meddling, well-meaning, pain-in-the-ass coworkers. Why couldn't they be like normal coworkers, who didn't really care about each other? The kind who might go out for a drink or two on Fridays, complain about their boss, then head their separate ways.

Because they were family, that was why. And as much of a pain-in-the-ass they were being now, he wouldn't change a thing. That didn't mean he couldn't wish they'd just leave him the hell alone. At least for a little while longer.

"You're not doing a very good job of getting answers, Adam."

Dale looked over his shoulder, not surprised to see Mikey walking toward them. And she wasn't alone—Jay was right behind her. Of course he was. Those two were worse than twins.

"Don't blame me. He's more interested in learning about online dating than anything else."

"I hope to hell you're not giving him tips, considering the sites you hit are for hook-ups and not dating." Jay lowered himself to the sidewalk, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows. Dale looked over, noticed how Adam seemed to be suddenly preoccupied with an invisible piece of dirt or something on his pants. If there had been enough light, Dale was fairly certain he'd see a blush staining the other man's cheeks.

Hook-up sites. He should have been surprised but he wasn't. Didn't they always say it was the quiet ones you needed to watch out for?

Mikey sat down between Adam and him, nudging them both so they'd move over. She reached over and grabbed Adam's phone, ignoring his weak protest as she tucked it under her leg. "I take it things aren't working out between you and your neighbor?"

Dale shrugged, not bothering to look at her. "Nothing there to work out."

"Hm." There was too much left unsaid with that little noise. Disbelief, curiosity. And the promise of more questions. "If you say so. We can talk about that later. Now what's going on with your sister? It's time to fess up."

"No, it's not."

"Yeah it is." Jay pinned him with a steady look, his gray eyes completely focused on Dale. "We left you alone our last night in, since her court date was just that morning. And we didn't say anything either day works, either, even though you had four days to stew."

"So now it's time to fess up." Mikey nudged him one more time, her elbow sharp against his ribs. "So what happened?"

Should he put them off some more? The idea held a temptation that was almost irresistible. But would it work? He looked at the three of them, saw expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. And support. No matter what, they were there to support him. Whether that meant giving him advice or just merely listening to him, giving him the chance to vent or talk or yell and scream, it didn't matter.

Dale leaned back against the bench and took a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh. "She didn't take the deal. And she, uh, changed her plea. To guilty."

"What?"

"No fucking way."

"Why'd she do that?" The last question came from Mikey. He turned to the side, his gaze meeting hers for a long second, then he looked away.

"I'm not sure." He paused, swallowed, looked down at the ground. "The judge gave her three years."

Silence greeted him, letting him know they were just as surprised as he was.

"Wait a minute. The deal would have been for a year, right?" Adam twisted to the side so he could look at all of them. "So why would the judge give her three years instead if she pled guilty? Wouldn't he have known about the deal?"

"I'm not sure. I know her lawyer is looking into it, seeing if they can get the sentenced reduced. Or whatever."

Jay sat up and hooked his arms around his legs. "I don't get it. Why would she change her plea instead of taking the deal? Did she think she'd get less time or something if she did that?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. And I think—" Dale paused, wondering if he should tell them what else had happened. How he had gone in to talk to her. How she had apologized. And what she had turned around to say before they led her away.

No, not that last part. That wasn't something he wanted to share, not even with these guys, no matter how close they were. It was too personal, too private. But he could share everything else with them, so he did.