Page 62 of Wild Fire

“No,” I bite as Nate’s angry gaze holds mine. “I’d smack your ass until you begged me to stop, and then I’d keep going. And then just when it hurts, I’d make it all fucking better, until you forget how much it hurts. Until the pain starts to become pleasure…” I breathe, my voice low and gravely, tinged with anger and pain.

So much fucking pain.

“And then just as you brace yourself for the ecstasy you know I can bring you, I’ll stop. You’ll beg me not to. But I won’t listen. I’ll leave you, hands bound behind your back, strung up like a fucking turkey, and then I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to sit down without thinking about what you did to deserve such punishment for a fucking week.”

Nate’s eyes widen, and the fire hits its peak inside me.

My words hang in the air between us, heavier than any I’ve ever spoken.

Tears pool in my eyes because I know I’ve just set fire to the one thing I want more than anything. Maybe JJ’s right.

I am my own worst enemy.

Because there’s no way in hell Nate will ever look at me the same now. But maybe that’s for the best.

The truth is a deadly spark; once it’s spoken, it catches on every brittle branch, every flammable surface in its path, ravaging and burning everything in its wake, until there’s nothing left for it to consume.

The waitress drops our food off, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.

“I have to go,” I say, as I swallow the guilt, the pain, the flickering ember of hope I once had as I toss two fifties on the table, enough to cover the whole bill and then some and head for the door.

Nate doesn’t stop me.

Though I wish he would.

And perhaps that is the punishment I deserve.

Chapter Eighteen

Nate

I don’t know what happened. One minute it seemed like everything was fine, and the next…

The next AJ had turned into someone else. Gone was the playful, flirtatious, hot firefighter with a heart of gold that I’d come to know in the short span of time since I’ve been here, and in its place was someone I didn’t recognize, but that felt strangely familiar in a twisted way.

The mischievous, sexy amber gaze had turned into something sharper. AJ looked like he’d seen a ghost, and his entire body reacted as if he’d stepped on a landmine.

Because I hit a nerve. A deep one.

I realize two things as I sit on the bench outside the firehouse. I’ve been here every day this week, before and after work. I should be working on the house, but it doesn’t feel right to go over there right now, without AJ.

I glance at the truck, remembering the last time I came here and actually saw him. Remembering the way he’d kissed me. The way he touched me.

The way his entire body relaxed beneath me. I get that AJ is a complex man. I can see that plain as day. I don’t know much about love. I’ve never been in love with anyone, but I’ve had a couple relationships. I know that when people usually put up walls, like AJ did, there’s a reason. I just have to find out what that reason is because I don’t think it’s just about his sexual preferences. I should just tell him that. That I feel like an asshole. Because I am. I pushed him, and I didn’t mean to upset him, I just…

I feel like he wants this, but for some reason, he won’t give in and let it happen. He’s fighting it.

And instead of giving him assurance, I gave him an argument. I poured gasoline on the fire, and that’s where I fucked up. Which is why I can’t leave things like this. I need to apologize. I need him to know that I’m not going anywhere. Because I have a feeling that AJ needs more than just an ass to smack or a dick to suck once in a while. I think, and I might be completely off base, that Mister Hot Stuff needs someone to give a shit about him. He needs someone who isn’t going to balk at the first temper tantrum he throws. Someone who isn’t afraid to tame the unbridled fire raging inside of him.

I want to be that person. If he’ll let me. I want to know him better. I want to help him the way he helps me.

But for now, I just want to make things right. I scroll through my phone, through the myriad of links I’ve saved, while I wait. One of the firefighters—who I recognize as the guy from the bar—takes a seat next to me on the bench.

“He’s not here,” he says in a gruff voice.

“Huh?”

“AJ. He’s not here today.”