Page 75 of Tasting Fire
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Emmy was sittingon Cash’s front steps when he pulled his truck into the carport and killed the engine. She appreciated his long-legged stride as he jogged toward her.
“Inside with you,” he directed, taking her hand and urging her to her feet. He unlocked the door and pulled her inside. Before Emmy could get her bearings, he whirled her around and pinned her against the door. His mouth came down on hers with a familiarity and hunger that made her brain circuits short out.
With his tongue and lips, he communicated some complicated message of concern layered with dominance. Damn Emmy’s body for reacting to that dominance with tight nipples and loose thighs. To take back a little of her control, she sank her teeth into his bottom lip just enough to tell him to back off.
Because if he didn’t back off, she’d be stripping him out of his blue uniform and pushing him down on the floor. She didn’t have time for that. She’d already spent enough of what she had giving up a job she loved and now waiting for Cash.
Her breath coming in pants, she said, “If you called someone to work for you so we could have a replay of—”
He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her off the ground so they were eye to eye. A purely feminine shiver went through her at his determined expression.
Hey all you responding body parts. This isn’t the time or the place.
“We will have a replay,” Cash promised. “With a whole lot of extra holding, passes, and first downs. But that’s not why you’re here right now.”
“Why do you need to talk with Jonah?”
“Because something about that swatting call-out is making the back of my neck itch, and if anyone can get us more info on who made that 911 call, it’s my cousin.”
“Maybe you can go see Jonah. I have somewhere else I need to be.”
“Where?” Cash pulled her closer until his nose touched hers. He had a squinty eye thing going on.
She could tell him work, but it would be easy enough for him to find out that she wasn’t in the ER. The downside of small-town living. “The morgue.”
He blinked, let out a long breath, and finally set her back on her feet. “I think you and I need to talk through some things before we hit the morgue.”
We? No. What she was about to do wasn’t exactly illegal, but definitely immoral. She didn’t want Cash anywhere near that. Not when, as the new TMT lead, he needed to impress his sister and Captain Styles.
“Come in here while I change.” Her hand in his, he strode toward the back of the house and into a room with a king-size bed, a mission-style dresser, and a TV the size of Montana. He pointed her to the bed and said, “Stay put.”
“I’m not your minion. In fact, I’m your boss—”
“Not anymore.”
Thanks for the reminder.
“That’s not what I would’ve chosen, but you’re the one who made the decision.” He unbuttoned his uniform shirt to reveal the T-shirt underneath. Next came the belt unbuckling and the pants unzipping.
She’d seen him in all his naked glory, but there was just something so hot about watching a man take off his clothes as if he were on a mission. Cash quickly kicked out of his boots, shrugged off the overshirt, and shucked his pants. That left him in a body-molding tee and black boxer briefs.
Hanes should hire him. This man would look like a sex symbol even in tightie whities, and that was close to impossible.
“You’re eyeing me like I’m a snow cone again,” he said.
“It’s hard not to when you look like that.”
A small grin formed at the corner of his lips. “Like what?”
Ah. So his ego was still there. “Like you could lift five hundred pounds, cook breakfast, and get a woman pregnant with just a smile. All at the same time.”
His laughter was the first wonderful thing Emmy had heard since the phone rang with the news of Jesse’s death.
“Then again,” she mused, “if your smile alone made babies, you’d have kids all over the place.”
Cash leaned down and gave her a hard kiss. “You just let me know when you’re ready for me to turn that smile on you.”
