Page 85 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

“Yeah,” Fred said despondently, as he headed to Rachel’s private elevator. He wished what Marsden said was true, but he didn’t believe it. The guy had done damage—to Rachel’s life. Fred had kept him away from Rachel physically speaking, but not in the way that counted most. He hadn’t prevented Kale from manipulating her into doing the thing she feared the most. As far as doing his job? That was crap. His job was to protect Rachel. Instead he’d exposed her to even greater danger.

He was trying to form the right apology in his mind when the elevator door slid open on the top floor. A blur of pale flesh and dark hair flew toward him.

“Fred! You’re here!”

He staggered backward, bracing himself so he wouldn’t get bowled over. And then Rachel was in his arms, raining kisses on him, on his neck, on his shoulders, his chin, everywhere she could reach.

“Rachel, sweetheart, what’s going on? Are you okay?” He tried to hold her off so he could check her out. He’d never seen her so openly emotional. She usually kept her feelings under close guard, as if she was afraid they’d be used against her. But now she was clinging to him like shrink wrap, not allowing so much as a millimeter of space between them.

He gave in and let her plaster her body against him. It felt good, of course. He didn’t mind; he just wanted to make sure she was okay.

“I was so worried about you,” she muttered into his neck, when she’d finally gotten all the hugging out of her system, or most of it, anyway. “I hated every second that horrible man had you.”

“Are you referring to Kale?”

Even in her weepy state, that got a laugh out of Rachel. “Yes, Kale. I don’t care what he calls himself. He stole you and kept you prisoner and I hate him with every cell in my body.”

He wrapped his hands around the back of her head, tilting her face toward him, noticing the anxiety tightening the angled lines of her face. Tears stood in her eyes, making them shimmer like a night thunderstorm over the ocean. “I can think of much better things to do with your cells.”

And then they were kissing, a joining so electric he was surprised it didn’t short out the elevator circuits. He felt as if he held a bolt of lightning in his arms, one turned into flesh and blood by some kind of magic spell. A rush of intoxicating heat flashed through his nervous system and settled in his groin. He sprang into instant, bursting arousal.

“Damn, Rachel. We’re in an elevator. What are we doing?” He dragged the words from his throat. In a fever, he ran his hands across her body, then under her ass. He hoisted her up while she twined her legs around his hips.

He nearly came on the spot.

“I want you, Fred.” If words could be naked, hers were. Primal and shaking, they acted like an electric prod on his already delirious senses.

“Me too. But here? Now? We’re in a freaking elevator. And I know damn well there’s a security camera somewhere in here.”

She reached over and punched a button. “Nope. Besides, I’m the only one who uses this elevator.”

“Marsden—”

“Will figure it out.” The rough desperation in her voice scraped across his nerve endings, and made him realize something for the first time.

“You were really worried.”

“It was so horrible. I guess it was a taste of what my father went through. Honestly, I think I’d rather be the one kidnapped than watch the same thing happen to someone I …” She caught herself. “… care about.”

He wondered what she’d almost said, but the rising drumbeat of arousal kept scattering all his thoughts. Especially because now she was tilting her hips up and down, rubbing her softness against his bursting cock. “Don’t do that,” he managed to grind out. “I won’t last two seconds.”

“Then get naked,” she urged in a shaky voice. “I want to be with you. I want to touch you everywhere and make sure he didn’t hurt you too badly.” Her hands were on his fly. She slid free from his embrace and dropped to her knees.

Oh God. Oh God. What was she about to do? His cock pulsed at the erotic sight of her kneeling on the thick bronze carpet of the elevator. She was wearing her black yoga pants and a thin turquoise T-shirt with a picture of an elephant—and no bra. Her nipples strained at the nearly transparent fabric. He groaned, helpless before this vision.

Her quick, eager fingers pulled down his zipper, she shimmied his pants down his hips, and his erection burst free like a bottle rocket. It was so engorged and sensitive he was afraid he’d come before she even touched him.

To distract himself, he glanced aside, at the elevator’s elegant cherry-paneled wall. He saw a dim reflection of the two of them, Rachel’s head level with his groin, her dark hair a wild halo around her head. The quiet hummed around them; they must be cocooned in soundproofing.

He wanted to say this wasn’t smart, that they should go to her bedroom, that she didn’t need to put her beautiful lips around him, but the words wouldn’t leave his brain. And then it was too late.

The gentle touch of her tongue on the head of his cock made his eyes cross. She seemed to realize that he was so aroused he couldn’t take much more stimulation. Instead she gave him a loving touch, sweet strokes of her tongue and mouth, like wine through velvet.

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