Page 47 of Burn

Her smile cracks. “Shush and put your head down.”

“No, I’m curious,” Scarlet interrupts. I almost forgot she’d walked in here, but she likes to just sit in the spa and pretend she’s meditating. Which is her way of avoiding work and slapping a fancy title on it. “How does he not cut you in half?”

We laugh, and Izzy ignores us, which is what she usually does. She never gives us details about her hockey player.

While Scarlet goes on to talk about Shade, my thoughts drift to Caleb, the reason I’m lying here on the massage table in the middle of the day is because I think I did, in fact, pull a muscle in my vagina. I try not to think about him too much because Izzy’s touching me and I don’t want her to get the wrong impression here.

Once Izzy’s finished, and I’m in a jelly state, I stare at Scarlet who’s still looking through a magazine. “Why aren’t you working?”

Scarlet shrugs. “I’m tired. And disgusted.” She peeks over her magazine at me and Izzy. “You wouldn’t believe it but the rich, pretentious assholes who stays here are a bunch of dirty motherfuckers.”

I slide off the table and smooth out my skirt. “Actually, that’s not surprising at all.”

“I found so much hair in a bathroom this morning from a man, I could have made a small dog with it.”

“Speaking of dogs . . .” I smile, and I know she knows where I’m going with this. “What happened with Owen?”

Izzy shakes her head and pulls the sheets off the massage table, wadding them up and then replacing them with fresh white ones. She never dishes dirt on Gigantor.

“Nothing happened. We had sex, and he left,” Scarlet tells us, like it’s no big deal. It probably isn’t to her. I wish I had her self-control. But I don’t. I’m weak and contemplating starting fires to find Caleb.

Fire Ground

The operational are at the scene of a fire area in which incident commander is in control. Also used as a name of radio frequency to be used by units operating in the fire ground, as in “Responding units switch to fire ground.”

I used to love my schedule as a firefighter. Now it’s too much damn time to sit and think.

About Mila.

Mila isallI can think about. And when you have four days off work, that’s a lot of time to think. And a lot of time in the bathroom trying to rid the need she instills in me. Images flash through my mind, constantly. Her blue eyes, olive skin and her tight ass. Brown flowing curls flowing over her shoulders, a woman who doesn’t have to try to be beautiful, it comes naturally for her.

I should have gotten her number, or at the very least, asked her last name. I could have found her if I knew her last name. Goddamn, this is unbearable. You’d think given my track history with women I’d be able to forget her. Ishouldforget her.

Now all I’m left with is a memory of her. The way her dark hair spilled over my pillow and her back arched off the bed as I ate her pussy. The way that hair felt fisted in my hands as her lips slid over my cock.

Fuck. I’m driving to work with a semi and wishing I could take care of it, or I’m going to be frustrated all day at work. I don’t jerk off at work. Sure some guys take care of it at the firehouse. If I had to guess, 50 percent don’t, 40 lie about it and 10 percent are the dirty fucks and tell us about it. Owen is part of the dirty fucks crew.

It’s the day before New Year’s Eve when I’m on duty again, and I’m hoping we have a busy day to keep my mind from drifting to Mila. In fact, I’m hoping for a raging fucking inferno to get my adrenaline pumping and a good chunk of the day gone.

Most people have the assumption firefighters sit around a firehouse playing cards waiting for the next fire to come in. Not exactly.

As firefighters, we’ve evolved into a public service agency with an increasing workload. We’re expected to know and maintain our skills on emergency medical treatments, hazardous materials, computers and technology, public education, fire protection systems . . . apparatus and equipment education . . . the list is endless and oh yeah, firefighting.

Whenever someone asks me what my typical day is like I want to laugh. It’s never typical. Anything can and does happen in a twenty-four-hour shift.

Nonetheless, my day starts around seven when I’m at the firehouse in the morning. Shift changes happen at eight, but most of the guys show up early to get a handle on anything that happened the night before.

Owen smiles when I walk into the apparatus room where the trucks are parked. Surprisingly, I haven’t seen him since that night at the bar. We live together, but he was out of town visiting his parents in Oregon for a few days. “You banged the chick from the club, didn’t you?”

I stand with tense shoulders, coffee in hand. “Shut up.”

“I bet you blew your load too soon.” He nods arrogantly. “Should have given her to me.”

What a fuck face.

Owen’s a player and thinks no one else can handle a woman like he can. He’s got another thing coming, but I also don’t want to talk about it this early in the morning.

He’s the last person I’d tell by since that night, I haven’t stopped thinking about Mila and have jerked off a half a dozen times to the image of her.

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