“I finally have you in my evil clutches,” Aaron mumbled.
Wren held in a sigh and gazed into Aaron’s cinnamon-shaded eyes, surrounded by smudged eyeliner. Currently Aaron curled along the base of the toilet, his black, blue-tipped, four-inch-long hair tangled around his flushed face. Drunk. Aaron was beyond the level of tipsy and had entered the land of trashed.
“Considering I carried you up the flight of stairs to get here and you can barely move, I don’t think I have anything to fear.”
“Oh no, you’re not safe. Let me just…” Aaron tried to push his body off the floor and slipped, smacking his head with a crack on the tar-stained linoleum. Wren winced sympathetically.
“Fuck.” Aaron reached for his head with a limp hand and whacked his face before his arm fell to the floor.
“Yeah, I feel threatened.” Wren hunched next to Aaron, who still wore his club clothes, which consisted of silver boy shorts and knee-high leather boots. As a go-go dancer at the local gay bar, Aaron tended to be more undressed than dressed. The light of the dingy bathroom sparked each piece of glitter on Aaron’s body, making him shimmer like a fallen angel in the dull surroundings. “I need to check your head, and if you’re not going to sleep in here, I’m going to put you to bed.”
A sensual smile curved Aaron’s lips. “Bed is nice. Come to bed with me, my big hot fireman.”
An image of their bodies pressed together, skin slick with sweat, bedsheets tangling around their legs as they moved as one, caused Wren’s cock to swell. He bit back a curse. Now was not the time to entertain perverse thoughts. The poor guy was sick and hurting and not in his right mind, and the last thing he needed was sex. Hell, considering he’d just been puking his guts out, Wren really shouldn’t have been able to find anything sexy about him at all at the moment. But the mussed hair, the way one cheek was smooshed against the toilet rim, the complete ease with which Aaron let himself be vulnerable beneath him… Wren shook the thoughts away. Not the time, you asshole. And be honest. It’s never going to be the time. He reached over to feel behind Aaron’s head. The silky threads of Aaron’s hair flowed across his hand and through his fingers. Why had he let Simon talk him into driving Aaron home?
“I don’t feel a bump. You must have a hard head.”
“I have something that’s hard,” Aaron said in a husky, suggestive voice.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Wren clenched his jaw and swept Aaron up off his feet, keeping his eyes glued to the man’s pixie face, with its full lips and adorable matching dimples.
“You need to sleep,” Wren insisted, walking into the adjoining bedroom. To say the room was a mess was putting it mildly. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The drawers on the dresser along one wall were almost all open, with shirts and pants hanging half out. The bed was centrally located against the wall and unmade. A cheap metal lamp with no shade was covered by a sheer cloth and sat on a nightstand littered with pictures of Aaron with friends. Wren recognized a few of the guys from the fire station he worked at.
“You know something that would help me sleep? Sex. Yes, that always works.”
The warm brush of Aaron’s lips on the side of his neck nearly had him dropping Aaron as a shaft of desire tore into him. Wren couldn’t control the shudder that resulted.
“No,” Wren rasped, then cleared his throat. “No,” he said more firmly, setting Aaron on the bed.
Aaron propped himself on his elbows, giving Wren a lazy grin. “Aww…come on. I’m very flexible.” He waggled his eyebrows.
A wave of heat crashed through Wren that centered at his groin. Swallowing past his suddenly parched throat, he tried to put on his sternest expression. “You’re too drunk to be propositioning anyone.”
Aaron dropped back on the pillow with an exaggerated groan. “Oh, whatever. I didn’t drink anything. Scout’s honor.”
“You were a Boy Scout?” Wren bit the inside of his cheek, pain to distract him from the task at hand of unzipping and removing Aaron’s boots. The lean lines of the man’s legs brought the visual of those limbs wrapping around Wren’s waist as he fucked Aaron against the wall. The taste of copper filled Wren’s mouth, and he jerked away, tossing the boots on the floor. With trembling hands he tugged the dark blue comforter over Aaron’s delicious, toned body. There was no way he’d undress Aaron completely. Aaron would have to sleep in the rest of his club gear, because at the moment Wren didn’t trust himself.
“Sure was.” Aaron rubbed his face, smearing more of the eyeliner and doing a great job of emulating a raccoon. “Can’t say I was very good at it. Kept lighting things on fire I wasn’t supposed to and couldn’t construct a tent to save my life. I think if there had been a real survival situation, being used as a food source would be the best use of my skills.”
Wren shook his head. That was Aaron. Rambling, even when shitfaced. “I’d have to see photo proof.”
“Not even for you,” Aaron muttered. “Now take off your clothes.” With a wicked twinkle in his sexy-as-sin eyes, he kicked off his blanket. “Come on.”
Wren took a deep breath, grasping for strength. He walked around the bed, jerking the blanket higher and tucking it around Aaron’s shoulders. “Persistent little thing,” Wren grumbled, struggling with his horny-as-fuck side. It’d been forever since he’d had sex, and Aaron, even in his current state, was too gorgeous for words.
“One of these days, Wren Tucker…” Aaron turned to his side, pillowing his head with his bent arm. His eyes slid closed, and he murmured, “I’m going to get to you.”
You already do. ~ Wren
Lost in the Fire, (Firehouse Six, Book Five) will be released September 22nd!!!