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  "Sorry." She grinned at him, sounding anything but, and rolled her eyes. "I guess that's not a very macho word. How about such an amazing winter green? Is that better?"

  Oh, yeah, much. As was the way she looked at him again. Amazing, huh? Yep, no doubt about them snowflakes, she wanted him. "Better. Thanks."

  "I suppose warm, summery green applies, too." She stopped, somehow knowing he would stop with her. They stood under a streetlight, mere feet from the steps to the building and he realized she'd stopped there on purpose.

  "It does," she decided, gazing into his eyes with such intensity, his toes actually tingled. Christ! When was the last time a woman made his toes tingle? The air between them snapped. He could've sworn he heard the pop. No, that wasn't the air after all. It was Sunshine's leash. The dog had walked away just far enough, at a pace just quick enough, to zing herself when the leash snapped back.

  Rayne started walking again. "I had this idea that the easiest way to pair you guys was with the months of the year, you know, for the calendar. I thought we could use your birthdays, maybe even put a fire helmet with a candle or the Maltese cross on the specific day of the month kind of like an added special feature."

  "Another selling gimmick." He nodded. "It could work, but you'll likely run into a problem with a couple of the guys. I think February and August have two and there may be others."

  "It was worth a shot." She shrugged it off. Not concerned or even disappointed that her idea might not work, but more in a way that simply said she would come up with something else.

  She'd gone from bashful to sultry, easy-going one minute and sizzling hot the next. Damn, the woman fascinated him! "A possible solution would be to get as close to the right month as you can for each guy," he suggested, pausing when they reached the door to the building to open it for her. He let her go through first, holding tight to Sunshine's leash when the dog tried to bolt inside before Rayne. "Kyle Shannon and Zack Houston both have birthdays in February, but Kyle's is around Valentine’s Day where as Zack's falls closer to the end. Push Zack to March since he's nearly there, anyway. That is if no one else has it covered."

  Rayne was already walking up the stairs, but she shot him a look over her shoulder. "That could work." She stopped at the top and waited for him to catch up. She stood with a hand resting on the guardrail, her head cocked to the side, one foot extended farther than the other. She looked like she was posing for her own calendar spread. Exchange the loose fitting clothes for an itsy bitsy, teenie weenie bikini—no need for it to be polka dot—and he'd have to buy stock in the calendar company. "What did Max tell you?"

  Goodbye bashful and hello direct. Cory played dumb. "About what?"

  "Before we left, he whispered something in your ear. What did he say?"

  Cory topped the stairs and reached for her. It was a bold move, very forward and revealing. Her body stiffened in surprise. "He gave me permission to flirt with you."

  Actually, what Max had said had been more along the lines of, Dude, my sister thinks you're hot. She's single. You're single. Can it get much clearer than this? Go for it. Sister of his lieutenant or not, Cory was going for it and damn the consequences.

  Rayne laughed and the sound quivered with a touch of nervousness. She looked at him, gazing into his eyes in that way she had that made his knees weak even as his dick throbbed. "I should be angry with him for that. I mean, God, giving you permission! As if he has any control over me. I'm going to kill him."

  "If it's all the same to you, I would rather you left him alive. B shift has already lost one lieutenant. We'd really hate to have to break in another one." Lucky for them, Max Jasper had slid quite easily into the lieutenant's spot after Tripp Barrett took the promotion to Battalion Chief a couple of months back.

  As the HAZMAT engineer for B shift, Max was already familiar with the shift, the department. He had the respect of the men, too. "Actually, I think it was more because of the control he has over me. He's my boss, in a manner of speaking. My hitting on his sister could make things around the station pretty awkward. He was letting me know he's okay with it. To be honest, I can't say it didn't help."

  They took only a few steps down the short hall between the apartments before she stopped again and turned to him. His arm was still around her waist. Rather than letting it drop because, now that he had his hand on her, he didn't want to let her go, he slid his grip to her hip.

  "This is flirting?" She shot a glance at Sunshine who'd plopped down on her butt in front of the door to Max's apartment, patiently waiting for someone to let her inside. When Rayne looked back at him, there was an amused twinkle in her expression. "Walking the dog?"

  Cory grinned. "It's a start." She licked her lips and his gaze was instantly there. The sight of that moist, pink tongue grazing very softly over her lips made his cock dance in hopes for equal attention. "Although, if you want to pretend to be out of breath, maybe in desperate need of mouth-to-mouth…" He let the rest trail off as he pulled her in against him.

  Oh, man, she was all soft curves and heated flesh and any ideas he might have had of stopping before this little game went too far flew out the nearby hallway window.

  "Do I really have to pretend?"

  * * * *

  Rayne knew it was the wrong question to ask. She could not allow herself to become wrapped up in this man. He was too perfect. So what if Max had given him permission to, Heaven help her, flirt with her. She hadn't given herself permission to forget all her inhibitions. Cory Nox would spell danger to her with a capital D. Yet, here she stood in the man's arms, asking questions that left no doubt in his mind exactly what was on hers.

  She'd slipped, once again, out of work mode and into, well, she supposed it would be called Cory mode. His grip on her hip tightened as he stepped to her, closing the distance between them. This was such a big mistake. Huge! Still, she couldn't stop herself from tipping her head back to look at him anymore than she'd been able to prevent that forward question from spewing out of her mouth.

  She saw it coming. It wasn't as though he went from light hearted teasing to animalistic devouring in zero point two seconds. His gaze flicked to her lips and he eased in, his mouth stopping a mere fraction from hers. He hesitated there, drawing out the moment as if they were characters in a movie set going for the final big screen kiss.

  "Should I do this?" His breath moved hot and seductive over her lips, seeping through her skin to touch every erogenous spot in her body. It was such an unexpected question, she might have laughed if she'd been able to find her brain through all the sexual fog filling her head.

  "Probably not." She sounded breathless even to her own ears, at least what she could hear over the loud thump, thump, thump of her heart. "But do it anyway." Oh, yeah, that's resisting. "I am starting to feel a bit faint. That whole CPR thing might be necessary in another minute or two."

  He laughed, a soft and equally breathless sound, and then, oh yum, he was kissing her. His lips brushed hers in a caress so light, she thought she might have imagined it, except he'd barely pulled back before he did it again. His hand moved to splay on the small of her back and he yanked her hard against him, holding her firmly in place.

  Her lips parted on a gasp of surprise and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. He tasted sweet and oddly cool, a lot like the green apple Jolly Rancher she'd immediately associated him with but minus the sourness. She melted against him, her body slinking and molding to the hard planes of his chest, his abs, lower. Her hands found his biceps, skimmed up to his shoulders, and wound around his neck as he changed the angle of the kiss, taking it deeper.

  She buried her fingers in the hair at his nape and it was as if she pushed his detonate button. She could've sworn she heard the explosion. She definitely felt it as he kissed her harder, his tongue dancing with hers in a brisk pace of control and heady need.

  "Ah, God," she moaned as his mouth left hers to nibble her cheek, her jaw.

  "Yeah." He breathed into
her ear and then sucked her lobe between his teeth, gently biting as he backed her against the wall. He licked his way down her neck, his hand framing her hip and then climbing her side in a sensual rise that made her writhe against him. His lower body pressed into her and she felt his cock, impossibly hard and deliciously ready, through the material of his jeans, of hers.

  Her hands burned to touch him, her mouth watering to taste. But it was his mouth that explored, his hand that roamed her body. He pushed his leg between hers, his knee at the perfect height to touch her aching core. She fisted her fingers in his hair as her body instinctively kicked into a bump and grind with his thigh.

  The sound he made was a half moan and half growl as he lifted his leg higher, pressing into her sex as she gyrated against it. Both of his hands were on her now, grazing up and down her sides, sliding over her hips. One moved between her body and the wall to cup her ass while the other climbed back up and between their bodies to cover her breast.

  "Damn." He buried his face in her hair. His warm breaths were ragged against her neck, precisely matching the uneven beat of hers. "I knew this would happen."

  Rayne rested her head against the wall behind her and opened her eyes, but she saw only the blurry ceiling above. It shouldn’t have been blurry because she wasn't wearing her glasses, but hazed as her vision was with unsatisfied sexual demands, she considered herself lucky to see it well enough to even know it was a ceiling.

  Though his hands remained on her body, they stilled in their exploration. Even his knee lowered. The absence of that lovely pressure to her core struck her in a violent instant. She wanted it back, wanted it to finish what it started. Lord of Orgasms, she'd been just about to reach one from a dry hump in a freaking hallway!

  "You knew what would happen?"

  "I knew once I got my hands on you, it wouldn't be enough." He lifted his head and the heat in his eyes burned her to the soles of her feet. "I don't usually do this, move this quickly."

  "Yeah, me neither." She usually had far better control of her body at least, if not her heart. It had been too long. That was the excuse she gave herself. It had been far longer than she wanted to think about since she'd had a man inside her. She enjoyed sex, loved it! If only she could manage to have it without her emotions becoming involved.

  His hand on her breast squeezed, caressed, and her eyes rolled in her head. "I don't want to stop."

  "Yeah, me neither," she said again. She met his gaze, saw him glance at the door to his apartment, saw the idea register in the depths of his eyes. She knew what he was thinking. It would be easy to go into his apartment rather than Max's, his very empty apartment.

  "You want to…" he began, but then a door opened downstairs, Sunshine barked and bolted, jerking the leash, and yanking Cory along with her.

  Chapter Three

  Michael Cosmos slipped into one of his favorite dreams and felt more at peace than he had in months. Two months to be exact. Ever since he met the blond vision that, in the dream, stepped through the doorway of his office in the building of the Silver Springs DEA headquarters.

  And she was a vision. Blond hair that hung in natural spirally waves all the way to her perfect heart-shaped ass with short bangs cut ruler straight over large sapphire blue eyes and killer model high cheekbones.

  She wore green today. That actually changed from night to night. It was the color green the U.S. Army often used in camouflage print for the troops. But the figure fitting skirt that stopped at mid-thigh and the blouse that hugged truly delicious curves with a neckline that dipped way down camouflaged absolutely nothing.

  Michael said a quick thank you to the patron saint of women's clothing as she closed the door, locking it behind her. This was where sometimes in his dream realm, she would strike up a conversation about a phone call she'd just taken at her desk outside because, in this particular fantasy, she was his administrative assistant.

  Not so tonight, though. In tonight's lovely, scrumptious, hard-on springing wet dream, she turned from that newly locked door, gave him a smile that was pure wicked temptation and began taking off her clothes right there in his office.

  Michael pushed away from his desk, but he didn't get up. He wouldn't have to because, when she reached him now wearing nothing more than that devil-woman smile and a pair of green stilettos, she moved in front of him and perched on the edge of his desk, exactly where he wanted her.

  "Touch me." Her whispered request moved over him like warm velvet.

  Ah, yes, that too was exactly what he wanted. He reached up, splaying his hands on her bare shoulders and skimming them down. Her skin was a true delicacy of lightly tanned perfection. He watched her as his hands found her breasts, loving the way her eyes drifted closed, the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and let her head fall back on a dick-humming moan.

  "Mmm, yes, more. God, Michael, I love the feel of your hands on me."

  He smiled. "Just my hands?" He leaned forward, caught one generous breast in his mouth and suckled. He traced the outline of her already beaded nipple until it became a taut and swollen ball he could roll between his lips and gently latch onto with his teeth.

  The sounds she made were like whips smacking his balls, each moan of pure erotic pleasure a lash at his sensitized sac. His cock stiffened to the point of intense agony, the need to be touched, to sink inside her sweet heat almost too vicious to ignore. He managed anyway because it was her pleasure that concerned him most.

  He left one hand on her breast to squeeze and caress while his other hand resumed its slow gentle slide. His mouth followed the delicious trail down her toned abdomen, her flat stomach. He paused at her belly button, tracing the outer rim with the tip of his tongue before quickly delving inside. She made a sound that was part laughter, part purr, and he chuckled before moving on.

  Her thighs were firm and smooth and utterly delectable. His hand reached them first, dipping between them to find her sweet heat. She was slick and hot and, damn, she smelled good. Her legs spread as his mouth followed his hand and he buried his face in her pussy. Both hands moved to cup her ass, to pull her closer as he slipped his tongue between her sodden folds and then inside her tight channel.

  She tasted sweet and thick, a delicious mix of cream and juice. Her scent, an exotic combination of female and flowers, drove him beyond hunger and sanity. He took her gently at first, slowly delving inside her core as deeply as his tongue could reach, licking the walls of her opening and all but drowning in her erotic essence.

  It was only when she fisted her hands in his hair, when she whimpered, "Please, fuck me, Michael, please," that he sped up the pace. Then he gave her exactly what she begged for. He fucked her, his tongue working her saturated core with a briskness that had her gyrating against his face. He pulled out, easing away only enough to find her clit, to capture the swollen bud between his lips and suck.

  "Oh, God, Michael, I'm going to…"

  Come. She didn't have to finish the sentence because her body's reaction said it all. Her legs tightened around his shoulders, squeezing as her muscles tensed. Her breath caught, her hands in his hair fisted tighter, and he was certain if he turned to look, to remove the stilettos, he would see her toes curling.

  He didn't. Something about a naked woman in heels just flat did it for him. Instead, he plunged three fingers inside her opening even as he licked, sucked, and nipped her clit. She shook around him, her body quaking as the orgasm ripped out of her, as she screamed his name in total sexual bliss, as the alarm went off loudly in his ear.

  Alarm? What the fuck?

  Michael bolted upright and let out a string of painful curses when the movement had him jamming his rock hard cock with enough force to damn near send it inside his body. Next to him on the bedside table, the old fashioned alarm clock with the super shrill bell danced its rip-him-out-of-a-wet-dream tune.

  He slapped it hard enough to send it flying off the nightstand to the pile of socks and sweat pants he'd left on the floor. The chiming sto
pped and all was silent, except for his rapidly pounding heart and the quick accompanying breaths. Should he contribute those to the almost ejaculation of mere moments ago or the heart failure the alarm had nearly given him? He decided both were equally responsible.

  He sighed, raked a hand through his hair, and got out of bed. He'd been waking this way, or in some variation thereof, ever since he met the very amazing, mouth-watering, sinfully sexy Rhonda Ramsey in the cereal aisle of the Wal-Mart Supercenter. The very unattainable, out of his reach, very married Rhonda Ramsey.

  Fuck! Not only had he fallen for her on sight, but to add insult to injury, the woman was a writer. Not just any writer, either. No, she was an erotic romance author. One very easily found by a simple web search. Combine the sultry blond beauty with her incredible talent for painting crystal clear, highly erotic images with words, and his nights had quickly become fantasy dream-driven, favorite parts of his life.

  Maybe if he stopped reading her books, he would be able to eventually forget about this incredible woman he couldn’t have, this woman who managed to monopolize his every thought even though he'd only spoken to her twice.

  Yes, he was a man who read romance novels. If anyone ever found out, his reputation would be in shreds! He'd somehow kept the guilty indulgence a secret ever since discovering her stories online while waiting for both his computer battery to die and Hurricane Emilio to pass some two months ago.

  Although, maybe he wouldn't be hung up on her stories if his mind didn't insist on playing the switch-a-roo game with each sex scene, surreptitiously imposing her in the role of the female character and him as the male just like tonight's dream had done. And okay, there was dialogue, explanations, a whole plot that led to the character getting it on in the office, or whatever the setting might be. He just couldn't remember exactly what because he tended to skip straight to the intimate scenes. Hey, he was a man after all.