Never Too Hot (Hot Shots: Men of Fire #3)(14)
Author: Bella Andre

Suddenly, strong hands and arms came around her rib cage, picking her up and throwing her across the sand.

Connor.

She landed hard on her side a split second before he leaped onto her, covering her with his body.

She felt it then, the force of something hitting them hard. Her stomach lurched like she was in an elevator on a free fall, and the back of her arm behind her elbow stung, but even as her brain worked to process the last thirty seconds, she knew it was Connor who had taken the brunt of… whatever had just hit them.

“What just happened?” she rasped against his collarbone.

Connor’s breathing was just as ragged as hers. She could feel every beat of his heart as it thumped hard against hers.

He didn’t answer her question, just ground out a rough, “Are you hurt?”

In the dark, his fingers ran across her face, from her forehead, to her cheekbones, down to her mouth as if he needed to check for himself that everything was still intact.

“No,” she said, shivering at his touch even as she asked again, “What hit us?”

His words rumbled from his chest to hers as he told her, “It was a widow maker. It almost fell right on you.

Almost crushed you.”

“A widow maker?”

He shifted them slightly, but still kept her cradled in his arms. No one had ever held her like that, like he would protect her with his last breath. Not even the man she’d married.

Despite the cold wind, the press of Connor’s hard muscles against her had heat pooling at her br**sts. Between her legs.

She’d known he would be hard, but she didn’t realize just how small she’d feel pressed up against him, that her curves would almost melt into his strength.

Her head, her insides spun and swirled as he pointed up to the large grove of poplar trees. “A widow maker is a dead branch or limb resting on live ones. Every year hundreds of people die beneath them when they fall.”

In the dim moonlight peeking out between the clouds, she saw an enormous limb lying on the beach not more than a foot away from them. At its biggest point it was at least a foot thick. She could only guess how much it weighed, how close she had been to becoming another casualty.

“If you hadn’t seen it, if you hadn’t moved so quickly-” She started shaking at the realization of what might have happened if not for Connor. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“I saw it this afternoon. I should have taken it down right away.” He cursed, drew her closer. “What the hell was I waiting for?”

Wait a minute, was he blaming himself for this?

“It was an accident.”

“You could have been hurt. So badly.”

“I swear, I wasn’t. Just a scratch, that’s all,” she said, showing him her arm, wanting him to know it wasn’t his fault.

She wasn’t prepared for his fingers to move to her elbow, for him to gently stroke her bruised skin.

“Where else does it hurt?”

She found herself saying, “My knee,” even though it was barely throbbing, simply because she wanted him to tend to her again. And when he did, when he gently caressed her leg, she couldn’t repress a low moan of pleasure.

His hand stilled on her knee. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Her arms and legs were fine. It was every other part of her that ached. For more of him.

She said, “Yes, I’m okay,” and then the next thing she knew he was hauling her to her feet and moving away.

The wind rushed between them as he said, “What were you doing out here so late?”

Thrown by his abrupt question, and by the loss of his heat and rock-hard strength against her limbs, her mind went blank for a moment.

“Sometimes I’m wound up after working the dinner shift.” Especially tonight after going several rounds with him across the counter. “And I love the lake on nights like this when a storm is rolling in.”

It hit her, how had he been there to save her at all? “Why were you outside? How did you see me?”

“I was in the kayak, paddling back to shore when I saw you walk out on the beach and stop under the tree. That was when I heard the limb shift.”

“You were kayaking at night? Why?”

He took another step away from her. “I haven’t been back here in twelve years. I wanted to get out on the water.”

“You couldn’t wait until morning?” was her first question and when he didn’t answer she asked another, “Twelve years is a long time to stay away. Did you come to the lake a lot before then? As a kid?”

“Every summer.”

It didn’t add up. “It’s so beautiful here. How could you have stayed away for so long?”

“Fighting fire was more important.”

A puzzle piece clicked into place. “That’s how you got burned, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, then, just backed completely out of the moonlight so that his face went into shadows.

“Good night, Ginger.”

Great. She’d done it again. Let curiosity get the best of her, about his scars. He probably thought they were the only thing she’d noticed about him.

She walked back into the cabin and went upstairs, took a shower to clean the smell of grease from her hair and skin, brushed her teeth and slid into bed. But all the while, she could still feel the heavy beat of his heart against her chest, the way he’d run his fingers so gently over her face and her limbs when he thought she’d been hurt.

After ten years as a hotshot, Connor knew his limits. He’d pushed himself hard today, harder than he usually did and his muscles were screaming for rest, for a few hours to rebuild what he’d broken down.

But it was hell trying to sleep one wall away from Ginger. Especially now that he knew how it felt to hold her.

He couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head. Watching Ginger stop under the trees. Hearing the shifting and cracking of the limb, knowing it was going to crush her. Jumping out of his kayak and running through the water praying he’d get to her in time.

Sweating again at the thought of how close it had been, he kicked off the thin blanket covering his naked body.

Finally, as the wind blew rain hard on the roof, Connor slept.

Ginger was wrapped deep in a dark and swirling dream where she was running through a forest full of falling widow makers when a cross between a scream and a roar woke her. Sitting up in bed, her hand on her heart, it took only a second to realize it was coming from Connor’s room.

Her stomach clenched with fear as she threw on a flimsy robe and shot out of her room. My God, what could possibly be happening to him? She shoved his door open.

From the dim light in the hall she could see that he wasn’t on the bed, but on his feet now, swinging at the air like a tortured beast, his eyes closed, his beautiful face taken over by rage. And deep, deep pain. His fists were closed so tightly the scars on his knuckles stood in out sharp relief and her heart broke into a million pieces as she watched this big, strong man fighting like hell against some demon in his head.