Then he leaned back in, kissing her softly on lips now plump and tender from the punishing demands of his kisses, before resting his forehead against hers with a sigh. “God, I needed that.”
She half laughed, remembering the desperate note of his voice calling her name and hoping that need was all it was. Needing it to be all it was. Defined. Contained. Manageable. “Apparently I needed it too.”
He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Are you all right?” he said, his voice still choppy. “I didn’t give you much of a chance.”
She shook her head, looking beyond his shoulder into the now inky night, wondering if she’d only imagined the note of caring in his voice and in his touch? Or was she looking for reasons to find fault now that she’d planted a seed of doubt in her mind?
“I did fine,” she said. “Have you eaten?”
“I came straight from my shift.”
“Then come inside,” she said, ducking under his arm to gather up her scattered clothes, needing space and distance and a cool head to reason. She couldn’t think straight when he was naked and this close and he’d just blown her world apart when she’d thought she was the one in control. “I’m sure I can find us something.”
His hand caught her upper arm. “Ava? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“It’s just you seem – on edge.”
“Do I?” She clutched her crumpled shirt to her chest and forced a smile to her face. She was probably imagining things. Probably just feeling frustrated because her painting wouldn’t behave. “Maybe just a bit tired. I’m going to have a shower. Help yourself to a drink.”
He picked up her empty wine glass. “Top yours up?”
“Thanks,” she said with a nod, and disappeared inside.
Caleb fished himself a beer from the fridge in Ava’s self-described “French Provincial meets Rustic” kitchen. He leant against the timber benchtop that had been carved from a fallen tree and definitely had more to do with the latter than the former, even if she’d painted the cupboard doors below it in an antique white, and snapped off the lid, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat. Nothing beat a cold beer after hot sex.
He heard the water turn off in the bathroom and poured a slug of wine into Ava’s glass, already anticipating her return. Nothing beat a cold beer after hot sex, that was, unless it was more sex. He’d been right to come. If he’d gone home to his one-bedroom flat, he wouldn’t have switched off. He’d probably be on his sixth beer by now, trying to blot out the events of today playing in his head in an endless loop.
But Ava – Ava didn’t ask him why or press him for details. Ava didn’t complain about his job or pry into his life and his thoughts, searching for details she could turn around and use against him.
She appeared then, wearing her blue robe lashed at her slender waist, shrugging her long hair over her shoulders with her hands in a way that accentuated the golden slice of skin exposed at her chest in the process and, damn, if he didn’t feel his cock twitch in appreciation.
“What?” she said, her almond eyes narrowing as her bare feet slapped softly on the terracotta tiled floor as she came towards him.
“You,” he said, handing her the glass of wine. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
She took the glass, taking a sip, her eyes above the rim, giving him and his bare chest a quick once over. He’d put on his jeans, even if he hadn’t bothered with the button, but that was it.
“You don’t look so bad—”
And then she saw it. She came closer, her eyes focusing in on his left shoulder, her fingers lightly tracing over the fancy cursive script across his upper arm.
“Brothers forged in fire,” she read. She looked up at him. “When did you get this?”
“The night of my grandfather’s memorial service. We all got one.”
Her eyes flicked up again. “All?”
“Well, there were a few of us, including Dylan and two of our firey cousins, Logan and Dare.”
He was pretty sure he’d told her he had a twin brother at some point, probably when he’d told her about going to Brisbane for Leonard’s memorial service, but other than that, he couldn’t ever remember talking about his wider family. And, other than knowing her father was from Singapore and her mother an Australian, he didn’t know anything about her family, but that was the kind of relationship they had. When they got together, they didn’t waste time talking about family.
“We went drinking after the service, and”—he sucked in a breath—“and, the old man was a real hero. Old school firey with the nous to take firefighting into the current age, without losing the core of what we do.” Even if the powers that be were so eager to find a scapegoat for last year’s devastating Victorian bushfires, they were willing to crucify him. shook his head at an investigation that seemed to have no good purpose and no end. “So we wanted to honour him somehow, something we could all be part of. A tattoo seemed like a good idea at the time.” And it was, although he’d woken up the next day with thunder in his head and a tongue that felt like he’d licked the bottom of a cocky cage and he’d wondered why the hell his arm stung so much. Three weeks on and it was mostly healed. Which meant more than three weeks since he’d seen Ava. Bloody night shift interfering with his sex life. No wonder he’d gone off like a volcano.
She nodded approvingly as she put down her glass and turned towards the fridge door. “Something so permanent should be meaningful.”
“Like yours?” he said, placing his hand on the back of her
