Page 57 of Five Alarm Kiss

To be fair, she hadn’t had sex in two years. Why? Because she hadn’t been with anyone she’d wanted to share that with. Heck, the last guy she’d slept with, she probably shouldn’t have. She’d known the relationship wasn’t going to last. She’d just wanted to feel… wanted.

Well, that’d ended up being a colossal flop, exactly like her entire disaster of a relationship with Ethan. It’d been four years since she’d walked out of the rehearsal dinner, and here she was, still doubting herself. Not why she’d called off the wedding, but rather why she hadn’t been enough for him to keep it in his pants.

Maybe her entire fascination with Jake boiled down to her hormones raging out of control after a long, self-imposed hibernation. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stop thinking about him naked.

Get real. That’s butter brickle, and you know it.

Laurel rolled over and landed on her back with a bounce. She couldn’t deny it… she wanted Jake. Wanted him more than any man she’d ever been with. For the millionth time, she wondered what he’d be like as a lover. After some of the comments he’d made, she imagined he’d be demanding, dominant, and skilled at making her come with a heated look and the flick of his tongue.

She shivered and let out a stuttering breath. Thinking about Jake doing anything—and everything—with his tongue had her wound so tightly, it was entirely possible she could suffer permanent damage if she didn’t get some relief.

Okay, maybe that was a touch melodramatic, but for goodness’ sake, her panties were damp, and he wasn’t even in the room!

Giving in to her baser instincts, she lifted her hips and pushed her sweats and panties down her legs before letting her hand drift between her thighs.

As soon as she closed her eyes, Jake appeared above her wearing nothing but his signature smirk. Every muscled, sexy inch of him was on display... and we’re talkingevery inch!

He kissed her, long and deep, his tongue mating with hers as he tweaked and plucked at her nipples. When he took one taut peak into the warmth of his mouth, she whimpered before losing herself to the delicious sensations as he moved from one breast to the next.

Her pulse kicked when he kissed his way down her body until his hot breath warmed her already wet center. Parting her folds, he ran his tongue along her slit before concentrating on her swollen nub, flicking and circling, making her pant with need. Continuing the assault with his tongue, he sank a finger into her warmth, pumping in and out. He drove her closer and closer to the edge, until she was shaking and begging for release. Then he moved back up her body, wrapped her legs around his waist, and?—

The blaring screech of a fire alarm ripped Laurel out of her fantasy. She shot upward, lost her balance, and tumbled off the couch to land with athudon the floor. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she fought to get her bearings. Billowing smoke above her head made the hairs on her arms and back of her neck stand on end, and her heart practically had a—well—coronary.

Scrambling to her feet, she yanked up her underwear as she frantically looked for the source of the smoke. She was sickened to find the towel she’d tossed onto the counter must’ve landed too close to the burner and ignited, and now both it, the pan of fried chicken, and a small section of the wall behind the stove were in flames.

She nearly fell over when she tried to walk because her sweats had turned into shackles around her ankles. Instead of fighting with them, she stepped on the material and pulled her feet free one by one, then dashed into the kitchen.

She remembered reading somewhere you weren’t supposed to put water on a grease fire, since it would only make it worse. Thankfully, she kept a fire extinguisher under the sink. Swinging open the cabinet door, the only things inside were a garbage can and cleaning supplies. Where was the fire extinguisher?

Flipping fudge!

She’d gotten rid of the extinguisher after it’d expired, but hadn’t replaced it yet.

Cursing her uncharacteristic procrastination, she looked around for something to smother the fire. The lid of the frying pan was in the lower cabinet to the left of the stove. Maybe if she could cover the pan, it would help stop the fire from spreading further. She quickly fished out the lid, doing her best to stay as far away from the fire as possible while still being able to reach the lid.

She heard the flames pop right before an errant spark landed on the bare skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up. She jerked upright, accidentally bashing the lid into a half-full glass of water sitting next to the stove. It crashed onto the counter, splashing water on the fire. Instead of extinguishing the fire, there was a hugewhoosh,and grease splattered everywhere. Laurel screamed and held her arms up to protect her face, but some of the scalding grease landed on her forearm. She cried out and dropped the lid. It clattered to the floor as the splatters on the wall ignited, and the flames spread.

There wasn’t a backsplash behind the stove, just old wallpaper. The peeling paper acted like an accelerant, coaxing the fire to spread faster as the flames greedily consumed it.

In the midst of the chaos, someone started banging on her door.

“Laurel!”

She ran from the kitchen as flames followed the pattern of grease, licking further up the wall at an alarming rate.

The pounding on the door continued while she frantically searched for her phone.

“Laurel, are you in there?”

It was her neighbor, Mr. Wilkins. He was a sweet man who was probably in better shape at sixty-eight, than she was. She’d seen him leave to go jogging nearly every day, while most of her exercise came from sitting up to reach the television remote.

“Laurel?”

His apartment was right next door, on the other side of their shared wall.

Oh my gosh!

The fire could burn through to his side if it wasn’t contained soon.

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