Fire Born (Firehouse 343) (35 page)

“I did indeed,” she replied, grinning wickedly as she slipped her hands under his t-shirt. Martie pushed the gray cotton upward, and as if the feel of her breasts against his bare skin weren’t enough to crumble his resolve, she completely destroyed any resistance he might have had left when she drew her tongue over his right nipple.

Chris
groaned,
his grip on her bottom tightening as she teased first one side of his chest and then the other. He could feel her nipples hardening as they brushed against him, and just thinking of those
rosy buds made him want to suck on them. He bent at the knee to capture one in his mouth and Martie moaned. Her breathing became shallow as he feasted first on the left and then the right. While his mouth worked, his hands were not idle; one remained firmly planted on her ass and the other reached between her legs to massage her already moist folds.

When she began to moan softly, he turned them around, nudging her back to the bed. Martie climbed onto it and scooted backward while he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes widened when he looked at her after discarding it, for she was propped up on one elbow and the other hand was rhythmically massaging her clit
oris
. That she was confident enough to touch herself in his presence made his balls ache to be slapping against her. After shedding the rest of his clothes, he climbed onto the bed and she opened for him eagerly. Chris bent to kiss her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he slipped his throbbing erection into her hot, moist channel.

Martie
moaned into his mouth and raised her hips, taking him deeper. She lowered them as he slid out, and rose again as he pushed back in. He sighed, feeling like he had come home after a very long absence to have her arms around his neck, her legs locked around his waist, and her welcomin
g center wrapped around his manhood
. She met each of his th
rusts with a lifting of her pelvis
, knowing just when to rise and when to fall so as to increase the sen
sation they both felt. They
moved in sync with one another just by feel, without words needing to be spoken.
She moaned as her walls began to tighten
around him. Chris knew her orgasm was coming and so was his, and he increased his pace, pushing faster, harder,
needing
to feel that indescribable euphoria again, reaching a height that only Martie could bring him to.

Her hands fisted in his hair and pulled as she crested the first wave, the jerk of her hips pulling him over the edge with her
, his own hands bunching the pillow beneath her head
.
They cried out in each other’s mouths, their voices becoming one as pleasure
carried them both away.

***

Though he had been reluctant to withdraw from her, Chris knew that inevitably, some doctor or nurse would come by to check on Martie, and finding not only the door locked but the two of them
in flagrante
delicto
would
not
go over well.

At least I know she’s healthy enough for sexual activity
, he thought with amusement as he pulled his clothes back into place and went to unlock the door.

“You know,
mio
caro
, it’s a really good thing the blinds were closed against the sun,” Martie said, and he turned to find her donning clothing Tony must’ve brought her from Billings.

He raised an eyebrow when he noted the absence of a bra. “Going commando are we?” he queried as he returned to her side.

“Tony is thoughtful to an extent,” she replied
as she pulled the shirt into place
. “He brought me my own clothes knowing I’d want and need them, which he’s had to do before on occasion for various reasons. But my brother absolutely refuses to touch my underwear, even though I know for a fact that he has bought similar articles for his girlfriends in the past. I mean, I’ve helped him pick stuff out before. Yet when it comes to my own intimate apparel, he gets all weird about it, like he did when he thought girls had cooties.”

Chris laughed. “I guess it’s a brother-sister thing. I wouldn’t know as I’ve no sisters to speak of, and I could care less about the underwear my brothers wear.”

Martie grinned. “As I was saying, it’s good thing the blinds were closed, or anybody passing by would have gotten quite an eyeful.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he urged her to lie back in the bed once more, turning so that his front was molded to her back. “But what a show it would have been,” he quipped.

“Indeed,” she replied, and he knew she was grinning.

Martie’s hands came to rest over his. “I went to see Ronnie earlier,” she said sadly.

“How is she doing?”

“Physically she’s still weak
, but she’s expected to fully recover
.
You probably already know that they have her up in the ICU for a few days because of the stab wounds,” Martie replied. “The nurse told me that although they’d scar, her burns weren’t that bad—but I think Ronnie’s embarrassed by them because not once did she look directly at me. She might also feel ashamed or even responsible for what happened.”

Chris frowned. “None of this is her fault,” he insisted.

“I know that and you know that,” his lover replied, “but convincing
her
of that might well take time. After all, Graham’s obsession with her started when she refused to have an abortion. He’s hunted for her ever since—he said so himself—so that he could eliminate ‘the problem’. He found her here
after more than a decade,
and his need to control led to his trying to kill her and her daughter. That led to Calvin’s death and it led to the both of us being kidnapped. She…she performed oral sex on him so
that he wouldn’t force himself on me, and she might have gone further if seeing him debase her like that hadn’t made me so sick that I couldn’t watch any more of it.”

He shuddered inwardly at her words. And though it sickened him to think of it, he wanted to ask what it was that Graham had been doing to her that would have prompted Ronnie to
do what she had done. Given that when he found them Martie’s shirt had been hanging open and her bra torn, he had a pretty good idea, and it made him hate Graham Henderson all the more.

Chris did not ask Martie for specifics. Though she had told him of Ronnie’s sacrifice he sensed she was hesitant to speak a
bout what ways Graham had touched her
, so he remained silent as he’d promised her he would.

At least, he did not ask her anything about her ordeal. When he did speak next, it was to tell her about one of his own.

“Martie, do you really want to know why I started that fire twenty years ago?” he asked.

She rolled onto her back and turned her head to look at him.
“Of course I’m curious about it, but it doesn’t matter anymore
, Chris
.
I should never have listened to Graham and Tony and let them make me doubt myself—or you. I should never have gone behind your back like that—it was a stupid mistake, and I’m sorry. You were absolutely right, what you’ve done since then is what matters.”

Tipping his head forward, he kissed the end of her nose. “I’m sorry too. I think the reason I got so angry was because I was already falling in love with you, and it was hard enough to admit to myself that I could care that much about you so soon. The fact that you’d done something that felt like a betrayal made me feel like a fool for allowing my heart to take the lead.”

Martie raised a hand to cup his cheek. “And hearing that just makes me feel worse for allowing my insecurities to get the best of me. Logically I know that if I wanted to know more about you, all I had to do was ask. I’m so sorry that I nearly tore us apart for good—can you ever forgive me?”

This time the kiss he gave her was on the lips, a soft, tender pressure of his lips on hers. “
Wóthe
ȟ
ila
, I already have.”

He watched her sigh contentedly and smile as she turned again, this time to lay on her right side so they were facing each other. “So, um… Why did you start that fire?”

Sighing himself, Chris replied, “For some reason, when I hit pub
erty
I developed a real shitty attitude. To this day I don’t know what the hell caused it, but by the time I was fifteen, I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Montana. My piss-poor excuse for it is ‘middle child
syndrome’: My older brother Aaron
was the first-born son, my little brother Greg was the baby. I was just…in the middle. There was nothing special about me, and it must have bothered the shit out of me because I resented both of my brothers despite how much I loved them. I resented my parents, grandparents, and anyone in a position of authority that tried to tell me what to do.

“When Aaron
left for college, it became my responsibility to look after Greg—or so I led myself to believe. I resented feeling like I had to watch out for him even while I did my best to protect him.”

Martie put a hand on his chest. “Why did Greg need protection?” she asked.

“Because he had a learning disability
—still does, technically. Greg’s dyslexic,
which
as you know makes even simple tasks like reading difficult or impossible. And you know how cruel kids can be when they’re bullying those they perceive as weaker than themselves. Greg started getting into fights because of being picked on, and after the first couple of times I intervened, I was forbidden to do so again because of how violently I reacted. It made no sense to me that I couldn’t defend my little brother, but those dumbass kids could get away with making fun of him.

“So one day, I decided on a different kind of vengeance. I followed this one punk kid home to learn whe
re he lived, and I watched his
house for about a week before I got up the nerve to send a bottle of my dad’s favorite liquor sailing through their front window with a rag stuffed in the neck. He and his brother and mother were home that day, and I guess there was still a part of me—albeit a small one—that had some sense left, because right after I threw it I went to the pay phone down on the corner of the street and made an anonymous call to the fire department. Only reason anyone knew it was me is because one of the neighbors saw me.”

He paused a moment, reflecting back on those old memories and regretting being so impulsive and headstrong.
“Because it was my first offense, the judge denied the prosecution’s request to charge me as an adult. But due to the serious nature of my crime, he said, I needed to be made to understand that there were consequences to my actions, and so I spent the next two years as a guest of the Montana State Youth Authority. Once I’d turned eighteen and received my high school diploma, my juvenile record was sealed. By that time I realized what an idiot I’d been and I grew the fuck up. Got myself an Associate’s degree at Roosevelt County Community College, and then applied to the Montana Fire Academy. I thought what I’d done might bar me from getting in but they overlooked that unfortunate indiscretion
because it was a juvenile offense
, and the rest is history.”

He chuckled lightly. “You know, I never really thought about it before, but my grandfather was right.”

“About what?” she asked.

“Well, after I set fire to the
Kilmers
’ house and I was in the
kiddie
jail, my grandfather came to visit me. I hadn’t quite grown up yet so at the time I didn’t put much stock in what he said, but he told me that fire and I were destined always to dance—that my path in life had been chosen for me before I was born. After all, my last name is the anglicized version of
p
ȟ
éta
, a Lakota word for ‘fire’.
That and the fact that I was born in a fire.”

Martie’s eyes widened.
“Seriously?”

Chris nodded.
“Yeah.
From what I was told, a space heater’s motor burned out, sparked, and the living room rug caught fire. Mom and Aaron were home alone, she was about to pop with me, and the fire just spread too fast for them to get out. They were hiding in Mom and Dad’s room when her water broke, and I must’ve been in a big damn hurry because she swears I started crowning almost immediately. Only had to push twice, and the fire department was busting through the door when I took my first smoke-filled breath.
It’s why my Lakota name is
Born
in the Flames.

“Anyway, I guess even though I wasn’t paying attention at the time, Grandfather’s
words stayed with me. I remember thinking about them when I applied to the fire academy. I met Calvin because they let me in, and I met you because of him. All of it revolving around fire.”

Her
hand came to cup his cheek again, and this time it was she who leaned in to kiss him. “I’m glad you cleaned up your act, because if you hadn’t we might never have met.”

“And we might never have fallen in love,” he added.
“So what do we do now? You pointed out before that we live in different cities—how are we going to make this work?”