Vivian Arend - High Risk

“Like you should have loved him more? If only you had . . . Oh, girl, don’t do that to yourself. And more importantly, don’t go thinking what you had means you can’t ever have again.”

Becki paused. “What does that mean?”

Erin sat forward, fully focused. She lifted a finger at Becki. “What if you had been in love with Dane? Head over heels, rings on fingers, bells on toes, all of it. And he died. Don’t think how, just think—he’s gone. Would you really put on sackcloth and sit in the ashes for the rest of your life?”

“Of course not.”

“Would you ever think about getting involved with another person?”

“You’re making this sound simple.”

“It is simple.” Erin shook her head. “If you’re not ready to fool around, then you’re not ready. Get a fresh set of batteries, or invest in a movable showerhead, whatever turns your crank. But if you are interested and you’ve got a guy who’s pawing at your door, don’t go tacking some self-imposed timeline to the grieving process. You can miss the hell out of one guy while you’re boning the hell out of another.”

Becki lost it. She laughed so hard she ended up gasping for air. Erin sat and silently observed, one brow raised high, a smirk on her face. “Glad to be of service. I’ll be here all week, try the veal.”

Something had changed. Marcus eyed Becki closely, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

She’d run the team through the most creative exercise that morning that required them to climb the peaks beside the hoodoos and lower the “bodies” they’d found. The light layer of snow that remained from last night’s fall had turned everything to sheer mud by the time the sun had come out to bake them for a couple of hours.

Still, even grubby the squad had worked together amazingly, and the dirt and grime seemed to pull them together even more than a good clean session in the gym.

Becki clapped loudly. “Great job, guys. Amazing.”

Tripp took a bow. “Nice exercise. Where did you get the bodies?”

Devon stepped closer, a mud-coated mannequin under each arm. “And do we have to return them?”

“Why, you looking for a date?” Alisha taunted. A unified chorus of ooohs rose as she curtsied. “Thank you, thank you. Although yes, totally wicked exercise, Becki. Thanks for training us today.”

“Brownnoser,” Devon whispered.

Becki laughed. “Drop the bodies in the back of Marcus’s truck, then you’re free to go. Enjoy your Monday off.”

“But don’t even think of being late on Tuesday. You start at oh five hundred with flash first-aid scenarios.” Marcus accepted their groans with a nod. “Go on. I’ll make it oh six hundred if you’re all out of here in under five minutes.”

Their screeches of joy were deafening, people scattering in a rush.

Becki leaned on the side of the truck bed, her arms crossed in front of her, a smile on her face. “Softie.”

“What? Can’t let you be the only good guy around here.”

She laughed. “Right, like you’re worried about competing with me. They totally look up to you. I can see why Lifeline’s done so well over the years.”

Okay, there it was again. “Compliments now. I’d think you were looking for something from me, but I’m not ordering you to get out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn.”

“Just calling it like I see it.”

He leaned over and adjusted one of the mannequins the crew had tossed haphazardly in the back of his truck. “What do you want to do with the girls? And the team was right, inspired training session, by the way.”

Becki jumped up on the edge of the truck box, twisting to sit beside where he rested his elbows. “Thanks. It’s always more fun to have to rescue a real body, but breathing, flesh-and-blood types tend to complain when you bury them in the mud for too long.”

Her arms were bare, and streaks of dirt coated her, not as badly as the rest of the fake bodies beside her, but still. He touched her arm delicately, smearing a blob down her bicep. “You need a shower nearly as bad as they do.”

“Hmm.”

Marcus looked up, and the heat in her eyes made him twitch. He’d been dreaming about her looking at him like that, seeing yes written all over her face—he wasn’t sure if maybe he was imagining it. “You want to help me clean them?”

“I don’t suppose we can lash them down and run through the automatic car wash?” Her voice had gone silky. Stroking him and flipping every damn one of his switches past on, all the way to high.

“Someone would call the RCMP and suggest we’d done mass murder. What about the shower room at the school?” Where we both can get naked after the props are clean, and get dirty all over again?

Becki licked her lips slowly, her gaze trailing over him like she was one second away from consuming something delicious. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.”

Hot. Fucking. Damn.

He stepped to the side, between her legs, and leaned against her.

She lifted her hands into the air. “Marcus, I’m covered in mud.”

“You think I care?”

He reached for her, but she caught hold of his wrist in midair, blocking his left forearm against hers. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying I don’t want to coat the inside as well as the outside of your precious truck with mud.”

“I don’t give a shit about the mud.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “But since you’re not saying no, I’ll be patient and wait. Only, kiss me first.”

“Just a kiss?”

“Down payment. Appetizer. Something to hold me off from ravishing you right here against the side of my truck.”

Becki swallowed hard. Interesting reaction. Marcus filed that idea under future places to fuck Becki mindless.

Then he wasn’t thinking anything because she lifted her chin and touched their mouths together. Lips open, breaths mingling. Her tongue reaching out to tease his.

He wanted to eat her alive. He was going to at some point. But now? He soaked her into his system and learned her all over again. The softness as she moved her lips over his. The sharp snap along his spine as she closed her teeth over his lip and nipped. The gentle caress as she broke contact, then stroked their cheeks together.

“How fast can you get to the school?” The words whispered past his ear.

He lifted her off the box, down his body, groaning at the pressure as she rubbed against his full cock. They scrambled in different directions, settling into the cab. She was still buckling up as he put the truck into gear and spun out the tires.

“Do you have to return the girls?” he asked again. Never had discovered whether the mannequins she’d had the team doing cliff rescue with were loaners.

“No, they now belong to the school. Is this another exercise-in-patience thing? Talking about the muddy plastic models instead of ravishment?”

“Yes.” Marcus snapped his teeth together to stop from wanting to dirt-talk a little more. He was so close to exploding at the thought of being with Becki, it was stupid.

Going slow would be impossible.

He pulled up beside the access doors and was out of the vehicle and headed to meet her in seconds flat.

Becki had already dragged one mannequin free from the truck bed.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

She tossed the bald, life-sized form at him. “Cleaning up the girls. Easier to do it now than after they completely dry.”

Had he totally misunderstood? He was sure the plan was to fuck each other senseless as soon as possible. Frustration and confusion warred in his brain. Becki propped the door open and carried in two more, following him into the men’s shower area.

She laid the mannequins in a row on the floor and turned on three taps, adjusting the showerheads to the proper angles. “I’ll grab the rest, you start washing.”

Marcus eyed the mud-caked plastic bodies with less and less enthusiasm. “I’ll trade you. You wash, I’ll carry.”

Becki laughed. “What, you have issues rubbing your hands all over naked women?”

He stopped and stared her in the eye. Deliberately let his gaze drop over her body, pausing on her breasts, the V between her legs. “Get naked, and I’ll show you how few issues I have.”

Becki moved in closer. Her fingers explored his waist, trickled up his torso. Tantalizing, addictive. “Getting naked with you is one of my favourite memories.”

Her palms pressed flat to his chest. His mind filled with the image of her pressed against the wall in that decadent suite, him fucking her from behind as the water poured over them in the enormous shower enclosure—his control was on the edge and he hadn’t so much as touched her.

“Start washing before I change the plan.” His voice edgy, uneven. He was going to flash off into spontaneous combustion.

“Patience, remember?” She turned it into more than a question. Her whole body softened, the invitation there in her eyes. Everything about her screamed come and get me.

His body vibrated with need. He stripped his shirt off over his head and threw it to the side of the room.

Her eyes lit up as she took a leisurely trip down his chest. “I guess I should get scrubbing the girls. Once they’re out of the way, we can move to other things.”

Their bodies were only inches from each other, the heat from her skin coiling around him like a spider’s web. “Maybe we should consider other things first.”

Something clicked. As if she could no longer resist, Becki crowded against him and tilted her head back. “Fine. I knew you were bossy. If you’re volunteering to wash me, go for it. I’m feeling a little . . . filthy.”

She skimmed her hands over his hips, using her nails to trace the waistline of his running pants. The only thing stopping her from being able to grasp his cock was how tightly their bodies were pressed together.

He growled and pinned her in place, dragging their mouths together. He’d seen her time and time again over the years, the images from their nights together flashing through his brain as his hands jerked a response from his dick.

Those experiences had been black and white—pale, blurry images on a faraway screen. This was high-def, high-resolution—real scents, real tastes. He took her mouth, the scent of their skin rising raw and passionate around them.

Becki offered and he took, a nearly violent kiss, borderline in control. Their noses bumped, tongues dueled. He slid his fingers around her torso and down to cup her ass. She was tall enough that he didn’t need to lift her far to bring everything into perfect alignment, the hard and ready line of his cock behind the thin fabric of his cotton pants meeting the soft warmth of her sex. The fine-weave material of her climbing gear offered a scant barrier between them as he ground them together.

She hooked her right leg over his hip and squeezed. He gasped into her mouth, a growl following hard after as he twisted to bring her against the nearest wall, the firm surface giving him something to support them as he worked his cock over her clit. The coals that had flickered ever since he’d laid eyes on her roared to full-fledged flames covering him inside and out.

“Oh God, Marcus.” She bit his shoulder and jerked a shout from his lips.

Fighting his need to rut on her like some kind of wild animal, Marcus chose the only solution he could think of. He had to get her off quick before sating himself because it was going to take all of three seconds to come, he was so fucking primed.

He tugged at her shirt and she helped him, slipping out of both T-shirt and bra in a flash, pivoting slowly as she peeled down her khakis to present her naked ass to him.

Stripping off his pants and briefs one-handed had never been more frustrating. He might have ripped something in his hurry to hit the next stage.

Marcus turned on another shower, catching Becki against him and tugging her under the spray.

He rested her body against his chest, capturing one breast. Something hard brushed his palm and he glanced over her shoulder. “Sweet mother of God, you did pierce them. I thought I felt a ring.”

“First summer break. I told you I was going to.”

She had, and wondering if she’d ever done it had played a part in his memories during the time he’d been stuck in no-man’s-land. At least until he had decided that torturing himself that way wasn’t healthy.

He fondled the ring in her nipple, tugging the tiny circle, and Becki dropped her head back and moaned her assent. He slid his hand down her body, over her belly to part her curls, and he swore again. “A clit bar? Jesus, Becki, I’m going to fucking explode.”