The Hot Line Page 11

  She caught her reflection in the mirror. Outwardly, she looked like a sexy siren, a wanton seductress—a seductress who wouldn’t hesitate to call a firefighter to her rescue.

  If you have any other emergencies, I’m your man.

  Jenna stopped midstride and considered her dilemma a moment longer. Did a too-tight bustier constitute an emergency?

  She bit down on her bottom lip, Dean’s parting words drumming in her head. She wasn’t really considering calling him to her aid, was she? Lack of oxygen had to be clouding her judgment.

  Once again her gaze panned over the numbers. She let her mind drift, remembering the erotic way his seductive strawberry-flavored breath caressed her nape like an intimate kiss. Suddenly, frustration morphed into desire, leaving her warm, wanting, and hungry—for a hard-bodied firefighter.

  As her fingers curled around the card, she drew a fueling breath and mustered all her courage.

  Because heaven help her, she was going to do it!

  Psychology textbooks in hand, Dean made his way into the firehouse kitchen, dropped down into a chair, and planted his elbows on the long oaken table. He felt sexually frustrated and unable to dispel the image of a sexy siren parading around the room in a skimpy red negligee. He buried his face in his palms. Biting back a groan of longing, he angled his body, enabling him to better hear the special phone kept in their sleeping quarters, should it ring.

  Even though Jenna had barely spared him a glance over the past week, there was no denying that tonight she’d made up for her lack of interest. He saw the desire in her gorgeous green eyes and felt the way she’d beckoned him from across the room. When their bodies collided, and skin connected with skin, everything in her reached out to him.

  The sound of Brady Wade’s voice pulled him from his musings. “Coffee?”

  Shaken from his fantasies, Dean glanced up to see Brady hovering over the stove, and at his feet his chocolate Lab, Jag, salivating over the delicious smells. Dean nodded and then inhaled.

  “What’s cooking?” he asked, his own mouth watering.

  Brady wiped his hands on his apron and went to work on the coffeepot. “Your favorite. Chicken cacciatore for dinner, and since strawberries are in season, strawberry pie for dessert.”

  Strawberries…

  Dean groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His gaze went from Brady to their sleeping quarters back to Brady again.

  Never one for subtleties, Brady got right to the point. “Waiting for a call?”

  Dean rolled one shoulder and said in a noncommittal tone of voice, “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Dammit.

  Brady leaned against the counter with a knowing grin on his face. “Well, well, I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Dean narrowed his eyes, digesting Brady’s cryptic words. “What day?” he asked, annoyed that Jenna had reduced him to a hormonal teenager who could barely see straight, let alone hold an adult conversation.

  Brady smirked. “I never thought I’d see the day that sworn bachelor Dean Beckman would fall so hard for someone.”

  Dean scoffed and arched a brow. “You’re out of your frigging mind.”

  Brady rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “I wonder if it could be love at first sight.”

  “Like fuck,” Dean said. “I don’t believe in such a thing.”

  Feeling antsy, Dean hoisted himself from his chair, walked over to the counter, and popped a strawberry in his mouth. Not his brightest move, apparently. The taste immediately brought back memories of Jenna and how he yearned to drip sweet strawberry juice all over that lush body of hers and then lick her clean, every groove, every nook, every hidden valley. A slow burn gravitated south. His cock hardened to the point of pain.

  He purposely stepped behind the island counter in a maneuver that enabled him to hide his raging erection. No need to show off the hard-on he was sporting. Nope, no need of that at all. The truth was, what he really needed was one wild night between the sheets with Jenna. To fuck her out of his system once and for all. Then he’d be able to move on and get back to completing his thesis.

  Redirecting the conversation, he shot Brady a dubious look. “Besides, what do you know about falling hard or love at first sight? I haven’t seen you with a woman in ages. You spend all your free time in this kitchen. Not that we don’t appreciate that, mind you,” he added with a grin, “because we do.”

  Brady drummed his fingers on the counter, waiting for the coffeepot to fill. “Oh, I know all about such things, my friend.”

  Dean angled his head and waved his hand, offering Brady the floor. “Yeah, you want to enlighten me?”

  At the sound of the beep, Brady twisted around and filled two mugs with coffee. “I’m crazy about someone,” he said, handing Dean a cup. “And she’s crazy about me, too. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  With a nod of his head, Dean gestured toward the CPR training doll. “I hate to break it to you, pal, but Blow-up Betty doesn’t count. Besides, I think she’s smitten with Christian.”

  “Speaking of our newest rookie,” Brady said. “I heard he really had your back when you guys were out on a call the other night.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real stand-up guy. Definitely a guy I want on my team.”

  “I guess it’s time to initiate him into the brotherhood.”

  Dean grinned. “Leave that to me.”

  As Dean sipped his coffee, Brady turned the conversation back to him. “So tell me about her.”

  After a long pause, Dean gave a resigned sigh and said, “It’s Jenna Powers.” Jesus, just saying her name out loud fired his blood and rendered him senseless. Rattled by the way she threw him off balance, Dean shook his head. “She’s been getting under my skin all week.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  Dean’s head came up with a start. “What?”

  Brady nodded toward the textbooks strewn across the kitchen table. “And you’re supposed to be the intuitive one.” He threw his arms up in the air. “Come on, Dean. It’s obvious. You’ve been walking around here all week like a lovesick puppy. Everyone knows it but you. I guess in your case love really is blind.”

  “Not love. Lust,” Dean clarified. “The woman’s got a killer body.”

  “And you know this how? She walks around in baggy clothes all the time, downplaying her figure.”

  Dean paused, unable to deny Brady’s observations. As Dean knocked around that thought, Brady lifted a brow and said, “Which raises the point that maybe your attraction to her goes beyond the physical and maybe your interest goes beyond a night of wild sex. Have you ever thought of that?”

  Ignoring Brady’s sudden epiphany, Dean shifted his stance after recalling the sight of Jenna’s hot little body in a barely there negligee. “If you’d have seen her tonight, you’d know what I was talking about.”

  The bell on the stove chimed. Brady shut it off and tossed his words over his shoulder. “Grab a couple of plates. Dinner is ready.”

  Dean reached into the cupboard and grabbed two plates. The sound of the phone ringing in the other room stopped him dead in his tracks. His pulse leapt. He sucked in a tight breath. Heat spread like wildfire through his body. The phone rang a second time, jolting him out of his carnal stupor.

  “You want me to get that?” Brady asked, smirking.

  Dean shoved the plates at Brady. “Fuck off,” he grumbled good-naturedly. He listened to Brady’s laughter as he negotiated his way to their sleeping quarters, double time.

  When he glanced at the caller ID, heat and desire rocketed through him. He whipped the phone from the cradle and shot a look around the room, ensuring his privacy.

  He lowered himself onto his bunk. “Hello.”

  “Dean?” Jenna’s voice sounded low, rough.

  Breathless.

  His body buzzed to life at the sound of her deep, sexy tone. “Yeah.”

  Jenna cleared her throat. “Hi.”

  His heart thudd
ed and he closed his eyes against the flood of heat rushing south. “Hi,” he finally managed in return. After a moment of silence, he pitched his voice low and practically whispered, “I’m glad you called.”

  “Yeah?”

  He heard the surprise, the excitement, and the anticipation in her voice.

  “You told me to call if I had any other emergencies.”

  So he had. Damned smartest thing he’d ever said. Inhaling, he scrubbed his hand over his chin, praying they were on the same page here.

  “What kind of emergency are you having, Jenna?”

  “I’m not sure it’s the type of emergency you handle.”

  “You might be surprised at the types of emergencies I handle.” He heard her breath quaver and then there was a noise, like she was licking those plump red lips of hers.

  “Well, I’ve sort of found myself in a terrible predicament.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what the problem is, what kind of emergency you are having, and how I can be of assistance?” He could think of a million ways to assist her, but he wanted to hear her say it, to ask for it.

  Her chuckle was soft and low. “Well, it’s a bit embarrassing,” she stalled.

  “Tell me, Jenna,” he urged.

  Her hesitation only lasted a second, and then she said, “I’m having a clothing emergency.”

  Dean drew in a deep breath as his mind took him on an erotic adventure. One that involved Jenna, a sexy red negligee, and a bowl full of juicy, ripe strawberries.

  He shifted. Jesus, he was in total fucking agony here. He tried for casual but his voice betrayed him. “What kind of clothing emergency?”

  She gave an edgy laugh and he heard the bedsprings sound in the background. “It seems I’ve gone and knotted the lace on my bustier, and now I can’t get it off.”

  Dean bit back a moan as he visualized Jenna sitting on her bed dressed in a sexy bustier—her beautiful breasts pushed together, her nipples tight, her milky cleavage beckoning his tongue.

  “I see,” he said around a low, throaty groan. “Is the knot too tight to untie?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Hmmm…” he murmured, sorting through his options, every delicious one of them. “You were right to call me, Jenna. This is definitely the type of emergency I handle.”

  “I knew you’d be the right man for the job, Dean.” Her voice was full of need.

  Sexual frustration welled up inside him. Fingers trembling, he balled them into fists. “I believe the only thing we can do is cut you out of it.”

  Once again he could hear her lick her lips. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, too,” she replied, echoing his sentiments.

  “So that’s why you called me, then? To come over there and cut you out of your bustier?” For some unfathomable reason, he needed to hear her say it, needed to know she wanted to fuck him as much as he wanted to fuck her.

  Arousal edged her voice. “Actually…”

  “Yeah?” he rushed out, his cock pounding against his zipper, clamoring for attention.

  She blew out a shaky breath. “Actually, it’s so hot in here, it feels like flames are licking up my thighs. It’s quite possible that I set the house ablaze with all the burning candles. You might want to bring your…hose.”

  His heart skidded to a halt.

  His blood pressure soared. His mind shut down. Sweet Mother of God and all good things holy!

  He bounded off his bunk. “Jenna?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sit tight. I’m on my way.”

  THREE

  Sit tight.

  How the hell was she supposed to sit tight? In a few minutes, the man of her dreams—or rather, her fantasies—would walk through that door and cut her out of a very revealing, very seductive bustier. And after she had acted like a sexy siren on the phone, Dean wouldn’t expect anything less from her in person.

  In all honesty, her boldness surprised even her. Maybe Megan was right, and deep inside her existed a sexy siren, a wanton seductress just waiting to break free.

  Jenna’s flesh broke out in a sweat as she paced around the bedroom with her pussy quivering in heated anticipation. Good Lord, her pussy was actually quivering—in heated anticipation.

  Unbelievable!

  Then again, calling a sexy firefighter to her rescue was right up there in the unbelievable section, too.

  Jenna cracked her bedroom window, listening for sounds of an approaching vehicle. Less than twenty minutes later, she heard gravel crunching beneath rubber tires. She flicked off her lamp and moved to her window.

  Camouflaged by darkness, she glanced at the street below. Her pulse leapt when she spotted Dean climbing from his car. As he shut the driver’s-side door quietly, he angled his head upward. Dark eyes sparkled and a wicked, self-assured grin curled his lips. He had to be the most confident man she’d ever met, and his assuredness made her feel wildly out of control. No man had ever made her feel that way before.

  Without haste, Jenna dropped the curtain and stepped back into the shadows, wondering what the hell she’d gone and gotten herself into.

  Heart racing, she took a moment to remind herself how much she wanted this. How much she wanted to experience the lust, the passion, and the mind-blowing sex other women experienced.

  Just once…

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs gained her attention. Dean inched open her door without knocking. Light from the hallway spilled inside and fell over her scantily clad body.

  Dean took one predatory step forward. His overwhelming presence dominated the small bedroom. The desire reflecting in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Megan was right: Dean wanted this just as much as she did.

  Desire and need moved into Jenna’s stomach. She drew a shaky breath and moistened her lips. Heat pooled between her thighs when her gaze panned the length of him. He was so goddamn hot that her pussy ached to swallow his cock.

  As she took pleasure in the sight of his tall, hard body, her skin moistened. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a knit navy sweater that showed off his toned body. She watched transfixed as he scrubbed his hand over the stubble shadowing his jaw, his lusty eyes seeming to undress her. She could see his pulse beating at the base of his throat, double time, as he continued his slow perusal. It both thrilled and surprised her to know she had this effect on him.

  Restless, edgy for his touch, she shifted from one leg to the other. Like a wild animal, he made a guttural noise low in his throat.

  By God, he looked so feral, so wild, so hungry. He licked his lips, his gaze brushing over her body like he was going to eat her alive.

  And heaven help her, she was going to let him.

  She stood before him, warmth and desire stirring her blood, making her forget everything but this moment and this wild man.

  He pointed at her with his index finger and made a circular motion. His voice was controlled. “Turn around, Jenna,” he demanded, taking charge of the situation as though he knew what she wanted and just how to give it to her.

  Jenna tried to keep her focus. “Have you brought scissors?” she asked, with a desperate edge to her voice as she turned her back to him, and inched her body deeper into the shadows, uncomfortable with the way the bright hallway light exposed her body.

  Without answering he moved farther into the room. Sexual tension hung heavy in the air as he closed the distance between them. He stood only inches from her, crowding her, his body close but never touching hers. His breath was hot on her neck, raising her passion to new heights. She could feel his heat and his lust reaching out to her. Jenna inhaled his warm spicy scent, letting it seep into her bloodstream and wrap around her like a silken cocoon until she thought she’d go mad with desire.

  Dean ran his fingertips along the back of her neck. Jenna shivered in response.

  “It seems we have a problem, Jenna.” His warm breath caressed her skin as he spoke in a hushed tone.

  She angled her head to better see him. Soft rays drifting in fr
om the hallway provided sufficient light to glimpse the lust, passion, and something else—something that looked like mischief burning in his eyes. Jenna swallowed past the knot in her throat and willed her legs to keep her upright.

  “We do?” she asked, striving for some semblance of control as cream moistened her panties. “What kind of problem?”

  Dean’s brow puckered into a frown as his fingers traveled lower to play with the knotted lace as he addressed her concerns. “You see, in my haste to come to your rescue, I forgot to bring scissors.” He pressed against her and she could feel his rock-hard cock indenting her back.

  Jenna gulped and worked to form a coherent sentence. She nodded toward the open door and shifted, pressing harder against his erection. Her telltale actions would let him know just how much she wanted this…wanted him. “Maybe there’s a pair somewhere in the house.”

  Hands trailing over her skin with the utmost care, he brushed aside her suggestion. “No time to search.”

  “No?” she asked, wiggling again.

  A low growl caught in his throat as his groin pounded against her ass. A tremor racked her body. “Afraid not,” he bit out between gritted teeth. “You see, your skin is on fire, and with your air flow so constricted, you could be in real danger of passing out. There is no time to waste.”

  Jenna nibbled her bottom lip and worked to take in air. Her deep, labored breath was emphasizing his point. “I see,” she said. “What will we do?”

  “No worries. All is not lost.”

  “No?”

  His voice turned serious and he sounded professional. “No, I have one other option.”

  “What is it?” she asked over her shoulder, playing along.

  He paused for a second, as though considering the dilemma a moment longer. “Well, it’s a bit drastic, but under the circumstances, I don’t see any other choice.”

  “Drastic?”

  He pressed his lips close to her ear and murmured, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to rip it off you.” With his hands on either side of her bustier, he gave a quick tug, which released the pressure and allowed her to breathe easier. She heard a few metal clasps give way and sprinkle to the floor.