Once Burned (Firehouse Fourteen Book 1) (18 page)

"I've never forgotten you, Kayla. Never," Nick whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion and restraint. He lowered his mouth to claim her lips in a possessive kiss as he entered her, slowly, feeling her open even more to accept his fullness. She breathed into his mouth, a deep sigh as her hips arched to meet his, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist.

Nick thrust fully into her softness, burying himself to the hilt, groaning as she squeezed around him, tightening then releasing. He continued thrusting, in and out, trying to keep a thin hold on his control. Kayla threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, alternately nipping his shoulder with her teeth then kissing him.

Their movements became more heated, their joining more frantic as sensation spiraled then erupted between them. Nick braced himself on his hands, holding himself above her, thrusting even deeper. He clenched his jaw and groaned, reveling in the small sounds coming from Kayla, in the feel of her tightness around him, holding him.

Nick pushed himself to his knees, sinking deeper into her as he grabbed her legs and held them against his chest. Kayla's head fell back, a long moan escaping her as he drove into her, over and over. Her head twisted from side to side, her hands reaching out for him, his name a soft whisper on her lips. Nick thrust again, and again and again until she tightened around him then shattered, squeezing him over and over, driving him to his own pulsating climax. He groaned her name and pumped himself into her, feeling every muscle go liquid at the powerful release.

Nick collapsed on top of her, raining kisses against her heated flesh as her arms wrapped around him and held him to her. There was a long moment of contentment, then soft surrender as they disappeared into oblivion, holding on to each other.

Nick woke a little time later, curled against Kayla on the sofa. He shifted with a small sigh and smiled when she snuggled even closer to him. He looked down at her, at the peaceful expression that claimed her face in sleep. His hand glided along her arm and side, gently touching her, needing to touch her, enjoying the softness of her skin.

He had forgotten this part, how it was between them. But the memory was clear now, how much he had always enjoyed just touching her, how they had often lain together, their hands roaming each other's bodies, not quite able to get enough of the other. Nick used to swear that even if they could never have sex again, he would survive as long as he could just touch her.

Had he really forgotten this? Or was it something he had just buried deep in his mind, unwilling to remember, unwilling to bear the pain of the memory?

It didn't matter, not any longer. Because, even after all these years, he still felt the same. That deep desire to just hold her, to touch her. It was an intimacy he had never felt with anyone else, not in his limited experience before Kayla, and certainly not after. And it was something he didn't want to examine too closely; he was just grateful that it was still there.

Kayla stirred under his touch then settled deeper into the sofa. Nick reached down for the quilt and drew it over them, tucking the edge of the soft material around her before dropping a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. He curled his body around hers, draping his arm around her waist and laying back with a sigh.

They would need to talk later, about tonight, and about what else was between them. It wasn't something he was looking forward to, knowing already that Kayla would fight against it. Nick had no doubts that getting her to talk would be difficult. Something had happened with her tonight, though, something that had made her open up to him, however briefly. He only hoped that she wouldn't regret it, that she wouldn't blame him for it. And he hoped that she wouldn't try to rebuild the emotional wall around her that was breached, however briefly, tonight.

What was it she had said? That she didn't feel anything anymore and hadn't for quite a while. That the only time she felt something was with him. Nick had no idea what that meant, or what he was supposed to make of it. Part of him was afraid to examine it too closely. His Kayla—the Kayla from his youth—had never been unable to feel. In fact, she had always been able to see and feel things that others couldn't. She had always been able to look deeper than the surface, to see what most people couldn't see. Or wouldn't see.

Nick couldn't believe that any of that had changed.

Nick didn't want to believe that any of that had changed.

Because if it had, that meant
he
was responsible. As responsible for that as he was for the scar that marred her flesh, the scar that marred her heart. And he couldn't bear that responsibility.

He swallowed against the emotion clogging his throat then turned his head and looked down at Kayla's sleeping profile. Her long lashes were dark crescents against her pale skin, her lips full and slightly parted, her face relaxed. She was different now, a little harder, less innocent, changed by time and circumstances. But Nick believed that deep down, her soul was still the same. The girl he had loved was a little older, a little rougher around the edges, but still the same.

And he still loved her.

Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then curled even more tightly around Kayla and closed his eyes, savoring the thought. He still loved her.

Now all he had to do was convince Kayla of it.

***

Mike stirred, not wanting to free herself from the soft grasp sleep still had on her but being pulled from it anyway because of the unusual stiffness in her back. She stretched then came awake more fully as her feet bumped against something warm and heavy. Her eyes slowly opened, blinking against the sleep, and she realized that she was on the sofa.

And Nick was asleep beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. She sighed, a soft sound in the quietness around them, then settled deeper into the cushions, curiously content with just lying there for a little while longer.

A crack in the curtains at the living room window showed the sky outside was turning gray, the odd shifting of light between night and day that signaled the approach of dawn. Mike closed her eyes, resenting the pull of wakefulness tugging at her. She wanted to steal a few more minutes, just a few more, before the reality of her world returned with the new day.

Long minutes went by, minutes where she waited for the regret to fill her. Regret for what she had done last night, regret for everything she had said. Her heart beat heavy in her chest and still she waited.

But regret didn't come. Instead, there was a feeling of acceptance. Not an earth-shattering moment or realization of rightness. Just acceptance. And with that brief flare of realization came another feeling: peace.

Mike released her breath in a soft sigh and reached out to run her fingers lightly along Nick's arm, careful not to wake him, enjoying the texture of coarse hair and smooth skin under her touch. Her fingers splayed over his where his hand rested high on her stomach and she opened her eyes, studying their differences. Nick's fingers were long and strong, tapered, his nails neat and blunt, the strength in his hand evident. Next to his, her own hands seemed almost small and feminine. Protected.

Mike sighed again and closed her eyes, wondering why that particular word had come to mind. Protected? She didn't want protection of any kind, she didn't
need
protecting. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, and had been doing just that for more years than she could remember. She didn't have to rely on anyone, she didn't
need
to rely on anyone. And while there may have been some bumps on her private road, she did just fine. The sudden thought that she needed someone to protect her was laughable. Disconcerting, even.

But on top of that thought came another one, sudden and unwelcome. No, she didn't need anyone. But wouldn't it have been nice to have some company while she traveled that bumpy road? Mike mentally shook her head, wondering why she was suddenly feeling so introspective. The mood wasn't welcome. Since when did she need company? She was used to being by herself, not having to worry about anyone but herself, not having to answer to anybody.

So why was she suddenly wondering what it would be like to
not
be by herself?

Mike shifted, just enough so she could tilt her head to the side and peer at Nick through lowered lids. She blinked quickly, briefly seeing the younger man—the boy, really—from all those years ago beneath the sculpted lines of his face and strong jaw. But it wasn't the boy she had been spending time with lately.

And it wasn't the boy she was afraid she was becoming attached to.

Something had changed last night, shifted somewhere deep inside her and changed the perspective of how she viewed herself—and how she suddenly viewed Nick and the pull he had on her. At first she thought it had just been the music—the slow dance and that song from so long ago.
Their
song. She had blamed the music and the melancholy of memory. Later, she wanted to blame it on alcohol, and would have if not for the fact that she hadn't been drinking. But as she had lain in bed, tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable knowing that Nick slept not far from her downstairs, she had been forced to admit it was more than all of that.

She was attracted to Nick, plain and simple. More than attracted. It went beyond melancholy and nostalgia, and last night she was forced to finally admit it, at least to herself.

Coming downstairs had taken more courage than she thought it would. And opening to Nick, admitting just the little bit that she had to him—that had taken more out of her than she had expected. Bits of what she told him came back to her and she had to resist the urge to shudder at the memory. But she didn't regret saying what she had, or doing what she did.

That didn't mean she wanted to discuss it. And she wasn't going to fool herself into thinking that Nick would let her go without talking about it. Knowing him, he'd want to sit down and go over each word at length, until they discussed everything in so much detail he'd be able to write a dissertation about it.

Which was going to be a problem, because she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't even want to think about it. If she did either, she'd have to confront her own feelings, have to question and reevaluate everything she thought she knew about herself, and she was nowhere near ready to do that. Not even in the privacy of her own mind. She wasn't ready, mentally or emotionally—wasn't sure if she would ever be ready.

What she had told Nick last night was true, it had been a long time since she had felt anything. After the accident, she hadn't been able to allow herself feel. Feeling would have brought memories and pain, and she hadn't been ready to deal with it.

Then, as time moved on, it had become easy to fall into that pattern of not feeling, of not letting things affect her, of just separating herself from emotion. That was how she dealt with things, how she protected herself. Don't feel, don't let anyone too close. And that method had worked just fine until Nick came back into her life. His reappearance, whether by coincidence or fate, was a disruption that was slowly chipping away at her outer defenses, making her feel things she wasn't sure she wanted to feel.

And for the life of her, she didn't know what she wanted to do about it.

Mike sighed, looking at Nick one last time, then closed her eyes and willed herself to drift back to sleep. She wanted to enjoy these last quiet minutes in Nick's arms, not waste them trying to figure out what was going on in her own heart.

"Yo, earth to Mikey. You there?"

Mike snapped out of her daze and looked up at Jay, who was leaning down in front of her, waving his hand in front of her face. She shook her head and sat back, pushing him away with one hand.

"Yeah, I'm here. Just thinking."

"I'll say." Jay straddled the chair next to her, resting his folded arms across the back then staring at her long enough to make her shift uncomfortably. "Want to share them?"

"Share what?"

"Those deep thoughts you're having."

Mike turned to stare at Jay for a second then shook her head and stood, making her way to the coffee pot on the counter. No, she didn't want to share them. She didn't even want to be having them. If she told Jay what was on her mind, he'd sit and listen to her, probably nod once or twice, then laugh and ask her what she was so worried about. So no, she didn't want to share her thoughts.

She filled her cup, added cream and sugar, then took a long swallow, not bothering to wince at the strong brew. "Don't worry, they're not worth wondering about."

"You sure? Because you look serious. Too serious." Jay's voice had turned quiet and concerned, and Mike closed her eyes against the wave of emotion that swept through her. She didn't need quiet and concern, she needed a distraction. A big distraction, something to get her mind off Nick and all the crazy thoughts she had been having lately. And not just since the other night when she had slept in Nick's arms. No, the crazy thoughts had been happening ever since he had literally walked through the door and back into her life.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Nothing I can't handle."

Jay watched her, one eyebrow raised in question. Or maybe it was disbelief, Mike wasn't sure. She shook her head and finished the coffee, then put the empty cup in the sink, her back carefully turned to Jay so he couldn't see her face. As well as he knew her, he was bound to see the truth in her eyes, a truth she was afraid to admit.

Because she wasn't sure if she
could
handle it. Not anymore. Too many emotions had been whirling through her heart and mind recently, and it had only gotten worse after the other night with Nick. She had been such a fool to say anything to Nick, to open her mouth at all. Worse, to open her heart, even just that little bit. What on earth had she been thinking?

Mike took a deep breath and mentally shook her head. Just let it go, she told herself. Let it go and move on. To do anything else would be disastrous. She took another deep breath and let it out then turned to face Jay, ready to make some light remark, to blow off whatever he had seen on her face earlier, when the alarm sounded. Jay bounded out of the kitchen, Mike right behind him as they ran to the gear rack and got dressed then jumped on the engine, Mike thankful at least for the distraction.

***

Three hours later, Mike was mentally kicking herself for wishing for a distraction. Being called into their captain's office was a bit more than she had wanted. She tried to focus on his words as he sat there at his desk, his monotone voice droning on and on, but her mind kept shutting him out. There was a nudge from behind her and Mike straightened to find the captain looking at her expectantly. She cleared her throat and slid a sideways glance at Jay, hoping for some hint to what she missed.

Captain Nelson blew out a deep breath and shifted in the chair as he fingered the buttons on his clean white shirt. Another long minute went by in silence before he finally stood and fixed the two of them with a hooded expression that didn't quite hide his displeasure.

"Your cowboy tactics are going to stop, both of you. Especially you, Donaldson. I won't stand for anymore freelancing from my crew. The next time either one of you charge ahead like that, I'll see to it personally that days are lost." He leaned over the desk and hastily scribbled on the forms spread out in front of him. Mike turned to Jay and rolled her eyes at him, her patience strained. Jay shot her a warning look that hinted at his anger but said nothing.

The captain finished his scribbling then pushed two identical forms across the desk toward them, placing a pen on each one. He straightened and fixed them both with what Mike guessed was supposed to be a stern glare. Its meaning was lost on her. "I want you both to sign these. Consider this your first and only warning. The next time it happens, I will take stronger action."

Mike glanced down at the paper, not surprised to see that it was a disciplinary action form. Her eyes skimmed the narrative section, her emotions carefully neutral as she read how she and Jay were guilty of insubordination and failing to follow orders. She almost asked if there was a form for cowardice but was stopped by Jay's nudge. She slid him another glance then grabbed the pen and hastily scrawled her signature across the bottom line, then shoved the form back as Jay signed his own. She turned to leave but was stopped by the officer's next words.

"You especially, Donaldson," he repeated. "Your attitude needs a lot of work. Is that clear?"

Mike bit down hard on her tongue then slowly nodded, just a curt motion with her head. "Yes, sir."

She turned her back on him and walked out of the office, careful not to stomp or slam the door, or mutter anything within hearing distance. She made it to the locker room before her temper exploded. "What a fucking asshole!"

"Not so loud, Mike. Do you want him to follow through with his threat? Because he will. You know that." Jay cautioned in a quiet voice as he slumped down on the bench.

"Screw him. Who does he think he is? A fucking coward. I wish to hell they would just promote him and be done with it. This is ridiculous." Mike opened her locker and rummaged through the shelves, grabbing a washcloth and towel before changing her mind and putting them back. She slammed the door closed, the metal echo ringing loudly around them, then took a seat on the bench next to Jay. She leaned back against the locker, welcoming the coolness of the metal against her still-damp skin.

The smell of smoke and sweat was thick around her, and she knew she should just get up and go take a shower. The longer she waited, the worse the smell would be, and the stiffer she would feel later. That's what she told herself, but she still didn't move.

Not when Jay was sitting next to her, anger and frustration rolling off him in suffocating waves. It was one thing for her to be written up. From Captain Nelson's point of view, she probably deserved it. But not Jay. And it was her fault he had been pulled into the situation at all.

"Jay, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have written you up. None of that was your fault."

And it wasn't. Mike was the one who had decided to charge ahead by herself, grabbing the line and running inside before Jay even had time to make it to the front door. And she was the one who ignored Captain Nelson's order to move back.

Yeah, she had heard him. But she hadn't listened and went charging in anyway. It was a simple case of being stubborn, coupled with uncharacteristic tunnel vision.

And what she had thought was a simple room and contents was, in fact, a fully involved dwelling. But she hadn't cared and went charging in anyway, not realizing that Jay had caught up to her. No, she hadn't realized, but she had known he would anyway, because the two of them had worked so closely together for so many years.

And now their captain was pissed because she had disobeyed his direct order while he stayed outside and overheard comments from another crew about his lack of leadership because of it.

The silence stretched around them and Mike shifted on the bench, her discomfort growing with each passing minute. She knew Jay was upset with her, even if he hadn't said anything about it yet. Her eyes shifted to the left and took in the rigid set to his shoulders, the strain in his eyes as he stared at the faded tile floor.

She let out a breath, wondering how long it would be before he said anything.

But the minutes stretched by, filled with tension, and Jay still didn't move. Mike finally stood and opened her locker again, taking out her shower gear and tucking it under her arm.

"I don't know what else to say, Jay. I'm sorry, okay? I just wish, I mean, if you want to yell, then yell. Or something."

"What do you want me to say, Mikey?" Jay pushed himself from the bench and walked over to his own locker, yanking the door open so hard that it crashed into the locker next to his. "It sucks we got written up, but there's not a damn thing we can do about it. And as much as I'd love for you to take the blame, I can't because I was just as guilty. You're right, he's an ass."

Mike watched Jay, not sure what she should say, or if she should say anything at all. He grabbed his own shower kit then slammed the door and stared at her.

"I just wish the hell I knew what was going on with you."

"What?" Mike stared at him, not hiding her surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you've been so distracted lately, it's like you're somewhere else. But you won't tell me what's going on, so I have no idea how to help."

"I don't need help, okay? I've just got a lot on my mind, and it doesn't concern you."

"Yeah? Think again. It sure as hell concerns me once it starts affecting what you do here."

"What the hell are you talking about?" She was raising her voice but she didn't care. Jay's accusation was coming out of nowhere and she had no idea how to respond.

"Just what I said. You have been so out of it the last week, it's like you're moving on autopilot only in a different world. You're so distracted that you're not even paying attention to anything else going on around you."

"Jay, what the hell? I have not been distracted!"

"Yeah, you have. I have no idea what the hell is going on with you and Nick, but you need to figure it out now, before something else happens."

Mike opened her mouth to say something then quickly snapped it shut. She had no idea what she was going to say, only what she
wanted
to say, and it wouldn't have come out the right way, no matter how she said it.

So, for once, she bit her tongue and said nothing and just stared at Jay. She finally shook her head, pulled her shower gear closer to her, and walked past him. They both needed a few minutes to calm down, to separate and put distance between them.

Part of her wondered if she was thinking of Jay.

Or of Nick.