Page 59 of Burning for Alexander
No. All of my thoughts had been more along the lines ofholy shit.Oh, fuck yeah. And a lot of mental images of our local fire chief naked and hard. Which had essentially cut off all other thoughts for good.
The door was unlocked, so I let myself in and caught him pouring wine into two glasses at the kitchen counter.
“Serving wine to a vintner,” I teased. “Brave choice.”
Kincaid was wearing old jeans and a white long-sleeve T-shirt that said “South Philly Smoke Eaters” in red print on the back.
“Beartooth Market hardly has the biggest selection.”
I stepped forward and took the offered glass. “You know I can get whatever you need. It never occurred to me you liked wine.”
He held up the bottle of white. “Josh and I go way back.”
The wine was a Josh Cellars Sauvignon Blanc from a particularly great year. “You did good, actually. I’m impressed.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t used to be a wine drinker, but I evolved.”
The bottle was half-empty. I was curious about whether he’d opened it tonight and already downed half of it or kept it in his fridge for a glass every now and then.
“How was the game?” Kincaid asked, corking the bottle and leaning over to put it in the fridge. My eyes went straight to his ass in those jeans.
“We won. It wasn’t a trouncing, but it wasn’t a nail-biter either. Pretty sure it was Tavo’s first in-person game, and I think he’s a convert.” I grinned. “I saw him enjoying himself with his friends.”
Kincaid frowned. “Speaking of Tavo, I don’t suppose you’re ready to tell me?—”
“Ah ah. We weren’t actually speaking of Tavo, and we won’t be speaking about him,” I said with finality. “We were talking about the game. Cord McMasters was crowned homecoming king. I’m sure you’ll hear about it at the station.”
He reached for his wineglass. “Cody has a brother named Cord?”
“Nephew,” I said. “Cody is the youngest of, like, six. Cord is one of ten nieces and nephews, but he’s definitely Cody’s favorite. He’ll be bragging about him for weeks now. I’d put money on it.”
“He a football player?” Kincaid began. Then he quickly shook his head. “You know what, I don’t give a shit about football. Tell me about Will.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and piercing me with a stare. “Actually, I don’t give a shit about him either. Take your clothes off.”
My heart thundered, and my breathing shallowed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head toward his bedroom. “In there. Let’s go.”
I loved the gruff quality of his voice, the way he didn’t make the words pretty or soft for me. I was here for sex, and there was no need to pretend otherwise.
And I wanted it so fucking badly.
I took a large gulp of wine as I moved toward the bedroom. When I entered his space, I quickly set the glass down and kicked off my shoes. There was already a wet spot on the front of my clean underwear, and I knew he’d be able to see it unless I was quick about taking off my pants.
“Stop.”
I glanced up. Kincaid was leaning lazily against the edge of his doorframe with the wineglass against his lips.
“You wanted lessons, Marian. And tonight’s lesson is about making it last.”
I bit back a groan. “I think tonight’s lesson should be about quickies.”
His rumbled laugh made me grin. “That right? You feeling some kind of way right now?”
I ran a hand over the cock strangled in my own jeans and nodded. Kincaid’s eyes darkened.
“Seduction is like building a fire, Alex,” he began. “Start with the kindling.”
While I was a virgin, I wasn’t an idiot.
