Let It Burn (A BBW Paranormal Erotic Romance) Read online

  Jo backed away from the temptation of his arms, wrapping her own arms around herself in a vain search for comfort. “I’m a package deal, Kevin. I can’t turn off my gift, even if I wanted to. When you decide you’re ready to be with me, with all of me, you know where I am.”

  ****

  Kevin watched as Joanna turned on her heel and walked away from him and wondered what the Hell had just happened. He wanted to believe her, there was even a part of him that did believe her, but he just couldn’t take that leap of faith. Not until the arson investigators made a determination about both the fire at the Community Center and this fire, too. Frankly, Kevin hoped like Hell that Joanna was wrong, because if she was right it meant they had a serial arsonist running around town.

  Chief Caldwell approached him. “Good fight tonight, Kev.”

  “Thanks, Chief.” Kevin muttered wondering ironically if the Chief meant the fire or the scene with Joanna. Dammit, he’d hurt her, though he hadn’t meant to. It was hard to suspend belief and accept that she saw and felt things. He was a practical man and psychic phenomena didn’t fit into the practical category.

  “I thought I told you to make up with that little gal,” the Chief ribbed him.

  “I had…I did. She’s just… She’s upset.”

  “Well, I imagine she’s pretty devastated. She’ll probably have to let the whole fire mural thing go now. I don’t guess she can afford to start it over again.”

  Kevin shook his head. “It was her older work that was destroyed here, not the mural. I think it’s at her home studio. That’s not why she’s so pissed.” He felt foolish even repeating her words. “She insists that this fire was deliberate, and that the firebug is here somewhere.”

  The Chief’s brows drew together in concern. “What else did she say? Did she have any details?”

  “No, boss, nothing but that he’s around here somewhere.” The Chief looked troubled, and Kevin asked in surprise, “You don’t believe in all that shit do you?”

  The Chief shrugged. “Does anyone? But this is two fires in one week. You sure she didn’t say anything else?”

  “Yeah, she did. She said whoever did this was pissed as hell, and he wasn’t done.”

  ****

  “So what’s the deal with you and Joanna Spooky?” Travis wiggled his eyebrows at him as Kevin bit back a growl at the nick name.

  “Nothing you need to worry about.” He dried off and threw his towel toward the hamper. “And don’t call her that.” Grabbing a fresh pair of boxers, he jerked them up and headed toward the bunks.

  “You sure as Hell are touchy all of a sudden.” Travis followed him into the room.

  “You know she thinks she can see things.” Kevin exaggerated the words by moving his fingers.

  “Maybe she can. Strange shit happens all the time.” Travis’ statement surprised Kevin. His best friend was even more a skeptic than Kevin was.

  “What, you believe her?”

  Travis folded his arms over his chest and shrugged.

  “Bullshit. How many times have I heard you refer to her as the town kook?” Now that Kevin thought about it, his best buddy deserved a punch in the gut for making those kinds of remarks about his Joanna.

  Whoa, wait. His Joanna? When had he started thinking of her as his? He shook his head at himself, because he knew the exact moment. When she’d come all over him in her bed, all the while drawing the most intense, soul destroying orgasm of his life straight from his soul through his dick.

  “Okay, man, I never ever told anyone this ‘cause of how everyone around here thinks about her but…”

  Kevin felt his face get red, and he tried to ready himself for what his friend was about to reveal. Fuck, he was actually jealous, jealous that Travis might have been with her first, known her as intimately as he did.

  “Last summer I was riding the trails back behind the house. I miscalculated a jump and hit a tree that had fallen over. I flipped over and the bike caught on a branch bringing part of the tree over on me. I was fucking pinned, no cell, no radio. I thought for sure I was screwed. But about an hour later, this woman came bursting through the woods, screaming her lungs out. She kept yelling ‘where are you? Are you okay?’” Travis threw his own towel on the foot of his bed and sat down. “It was your artist. She helped me get free. I wasn’t really hurt except for the burn from the exhaust, so I gave her a ride back to her place. It was weird. When she got off the bike I asked her how she knew where to find me and she just shook her head and laughed. She told me my cussing and swearing woke her out of a sound sleep.”

  Kevin knew that was entirely impossible since Travis’ place was twenty minutes from town.

  “She knew something, how I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t dismiss her so easily.”

  “It’s not that easy, Trav.” Kevin rubbed his eyes. “Some of the things she sees… things she might see… they’re not so pretty.”

  Travis gave him a sympathetic smile. “So it’s not that you don’t believe her, it’s that you’re scared of what she might see.” His friend reached over and cuffed Kevin on the back of the head. “Dude, you take responsibility for things that you have no control over.”

  Kevin started to shake his head, to tell Travis he didn’t know what he was talking about, but the other man spoke over him. “Every fire that kicks our asses, from the one at your house to the one we fought this morning, you’ve blamed yourself, buddy. I’ve known you way too long for you to deny it.”

  Kevin wanted to deny Travis’ words, but he couldn’t.

  Travis shook his head. “Dude, she’s a little strange, but she’s a nice girl. If you can’t deal with what she sees,” he mimicked Kevin’s earlier woo-woo hand motions, “then you need to walk away.”

  “I don’t think I can,” he muttered, reaching for his jeans.

  Chapter SixJo stood back and surveyed the storyboard she’d finally finished for her mural of Ludington’s Great Fire. The first step for Jo in creating one of her murals was to plot out the entire image on large sheets of graph paper. She would then create a grid on the sheet of tin that would serve as her canvas. Finally she would chalk in the outline of her images before adding the detail that would bring the images to life in vivid oil paints.

  Now, staring at the storyboard clipped to a bulletin board along the wall of her studio, Jo frowned at what she saw. As she’d mentioned to Chief Caldwell, it was an amazing story. During the summer of 1960, a fire had started behind the local five and dime. It had been a dry summer, and the usually lush landscaping that wound through the town had been brittle and dry, perfect fuel for the blaze.

  By the time the fire department, at that time a volunteer force, had been called into the station and had rallied to fight the thing, the blaze had swept through the entire downtown area, devastating homes and businesses alike.

  It had been a rallying point for the citizens of Ludington. They’d pulled together to care for those who’d lost their homes and livelihoods and, in some cases loved ones, in the way that only a small town can.

  Now, forty years later, there was still an entire generation of town folk who told stories of the fire and following several years in hushed and horrified voices. There had been a lively debate over whether the event should even be memorialized. It was finally old Amos Whitlock who’d made the deciding argument. He’d lost his seventeen year old son to the fire when the boy had joined the volunteer firefighters in trying to defeat the blaze. Amos argued that he’d be perfectly content to have future generations see exactly what his son had fought and died for. And, he added sadly, it wasn’t like he didn’t see that fire every night when he closed his eyes.

  Jo frowned at the image before her. Crouched behind the five and dime she’d sketched a boy of about ten. His overlong hair, ragged jeans and striped shirt lent an air of childish innocence that was belied by the cigarette he was dropping behind him, clearly trying to hide it from the man approaching him from around the corner. She hadn’t added details, but Jo knew
that when she did there would be an expression of angry disappointment on the man’s face, and embarrassed defiance on the boy’s. It was a normal enough scene; it wasn’t the situation that had Joanna frowning. It was the fact that the boy was dropping the cigarette right against the wooden wall of the dime store. With a sudden flash of insight, Jo knew exactly what had started the mysterious, devastating fire.

  She was so caught up in her musings that the pounding on the door caught her by surprise. The minute her concentration wavered, however, she felt Kevin as if he were already in the room with her. His anxiety, guilt and general confusion created a dull roar, and Jo was amazed that it had taken her so long to sense it.

  She moved slowly to the door that faced the back parking lot and shot the locks. Standing in the opening she faced Kevin, taking in the golden beauty of his face and hair, the stormy, troubled blue eyes. Vaguely she thought that she’d so rarely seen those eyes clear and sparkling. Like the Great Lake whose color they mimicked, they were almost always turbulent.

  She didn’t think she could handle another apology, another scene, so she spoke before he could, hoping to avoid more and worse heartbreak.

  “Apology accepted, no harm no foul, you stay on your side of town and I’ll stay on mine.” He frowned, and she forced a smile. “Does that about cover it?”

  “No,” he muttered. “It does not fucking cover it.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and shoved his hair out of his eyes. He needed a trim, she noticed inanely. “Look, can I come in? We need to talk.”

  He looked tired, which made sense, she supposed. He’d fought two major fires in three days’ time, and certainly hadn’t had much time for sleep in between what with all the arguments, apologies and sex.

  “Kevin, I tried to talk to you. You don’t want to hear what I have to say.” She could tell he didn’t. His unease was as clear as a neon sign.

  “Fine, I need to talk,” he insisted. “Joanna,” he lifted his eyes to hers and, dammit, she was caught. “There’s a lot you understand, but there’s just as much that you don’t. Hell, that I don’t. I’m trying here. Will you work with me?”

  “Shit,” she muttered in disgust and turned to walk back to the storyboard, leaving the door open for him to follow her or leave as he chose.

  He moved up behind her, and she shivered as his heat wrapped around her. He was a physical man, affectionate, and after only a couple of days she found she missed the absent touches and caresses.

  “That’s so cool,” he commented, reaching out a finger to trace one of the buildings she’d sketched. “What’s this?” He’d noticed the boy and his father, the only people she’d featured in the mural, save the firefighters who battled the blaze.

  “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no truths,” she quipped. The idea of another discussion about the validity of her gift made her head hurt and her heart ache.

  “I want you to tell me the truth.” He sounded sincere. Hell, he felt sincere. But he’d felt sincere before.

  “Okay.” She decided to go for broke. The worst that could happen was he wouldn’t believe her, and since they’d already walked that path, she really didn’t have any compelling reason to refuse to answer. “That boy started the fire. His dad,” she indicated the man rapidly approaching the boy, “was about to catch him smoking, and he dropped the evidence up against the store. The cigarette was still burning, and it ignited the wood siding.” She sighed at the sad and unnecessary tragedy. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “That explains so much,” he commented, causing her to lift her head in surprise. She’d truly expected him to shut down again, refusing to believe in her gift. Instead, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “They never conclusively proved it was arson. In fact,” he frowned as thought lost in thought, “the story goes that the old Chief was pretty sure it was an accidental fire. Some random spark that hit the wrong place at the wrong time.” He nodded at the sketch. “This makes a lot more sense.”

  He looked down into her eyes, utterly sincere, and Jo waited for the other shoe to drop.

  *

  For a moment there, Kevin had been sure Joanna wouldn’t let him in; sure he’d damaged their budding relationship beyond all repair. Now, looking down into her wary brown eyes, he realized that he was going to have to risk everything, bare his fucking soul, if he wanted to keep her.

  Keep her? Hell, if he wanted to get her in the first place. One mind-blowing, life altering afternoon of sex didn’t mean he had her. But, dammit, he wanted it to.

  “I’m no good at protecting the people I love,” he blurted out. She stared at him in wide-eyed amazement, and he gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. Kevin Kryszenski, high-school football champion, magna cum laude college graduate and super firefighter. But, Jo, when it comes to the things that really matter, the people that really matter, I’ve fucked it up every time.”

  She shook her head and laid her hand over his heart. “You’re talking crazy, Kevin. You’re a care-taker down to your core.”

  He laid his hand over hers, savoring the warmth of her touch. “You know about the fire that killed my dad and my sister.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

  “Kimmy,” she agreed.

  “Kimberly Lynne.” He smiled in bittersweet memory. “Her bedroom was right by mine. I should have got her out. I could have got her out if I hadn’t spent so much time hiding in my bedroom.” He dropped his hand and turned back to her work, staring blindly at the storyboard. “If I’d gotten her like I should have, my dad would still be alive today. Hell,” he laughed bitterly, “my mom would probably still be here, too.”

  “You don’t really believe this.” She ducked around him, staring up into his face and forcing him to meet her eyes. “Kevin, that’s insane. You were twelve years old! If you hadn’t gotten out when you did, you would have died in that fire, too!”

  “Jo, you don’t understand.” He speared his hand through his hair, mussing it into golden spikes. “I was right there. I was there before my dad, before anyone. I could hear her crying.” His own voice was rough, he realized, ravaged by the tears he didn’t deserve to shed. “If I’d gone to her first, before worrying about myself, I could have got us both out. My dad wouldn’t have had to go after her.” He closed his eyes, shutting out the liquid compassion he saw in hers. “My mom would have been happy, whole. Her body may have lived another ten years, but her spirit died that night, too.” He squeezed his lids tight against the unthinkable sting of tears and remembered smoke. “I let my entire family die that night, Joanna. I didn’t want you to see that. And I’m terrified I’ll let you down, too.”

  *

  Jo felt her heart break a little more with each of Kevin’s words. She bled inside for the boy who’d tried so hard to save his family, only to lose everything. She wanted to weep for the young man faced with a mother’s unspoken resentment. She couldn’t read minds, but she could feel as clear as crystal that his mother had blamed Kevin for his father’s and sister’s deaths, and that blame had only deepened Kevin’s guilt and shame. Finally, her soul ached for the man standing before her, so alone, so convinced that he had to be alone, that no one he loved was safe in his care.

  “Kevin.” She reached up, cupping his face, tracing her thumbs over his strong cheekbones, savoring the light rap of his afternoon beard on her palms. “If you responded to a fire like the one at your house, and there was another boy who couldn’t get to his sister or dad, would you blame him for their deaths?” He shook his head trying to pull away from her, but she wouldn’t let him go.

  “It’s not the same thing,” he rasped.

  “It’s exactly the same thing,” she argued. “It was a terrible tragedy. But Kevin, you were a child. You aren’t responsible for it.”

  He finally opened his eyes. They pierced her, wet and storm swept. She could feel him struggling, wanting to believe her. Aching for a surcease of the guilt and pain. The very fact that he wanted to believe was a
huge stride in the right direction.

  Going with impulse Jo stepped into him, pressing against his tense, vibrating body; letting her softness melt into his strained hardness. She believed, she had to believe, that in time Kevin would forgive himself. That he’d learn to trust himself. She had to believe this because she was very much afraid she’d fallen in love with him, and she desperately needed him to be whole and happy.

  “Oh, Kevin,” she breathed, cupping his face in her hands. He blew out a rough breath and dropped his head, resting his forehead against hers. She moved slowly, softly, pressing kisses to his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids. With each gentle caress she felt his tension melt a little, until he angled his head just so and caught her mouth with his own.

  *

  Ambrosia. She tasted like honey and cinnamon and sweet, sweet woman, and Kevin didn’t think he’d ever get enough. Somehow she’d seen to the dark, frozen core of his soul and it hadn’t disgusted her. And in the light of her acceptance, it disgusted him a little less, too.

  He let himself imagine for a moment a future with Joanna. Days unnumbered, basking in the warmth of her smile. Children with his eyes and her hair. The family he’d never believed he deserved.

  Maybe, just maybe, with this woman he could have it all.

  She made a low, humming sound against his lips, and he took the kiss deeper, drowning in her taste, her scent. He plundered her mouth and moaned when her wicked little tongue licked at his before drawing it in to suckle. Each light tug of her lips on his tongue reverberated in his balls, maddening him.

  Never freeing her lips, he bent his knees and wrapped his arm around her thighs, just under the mouthwatering curve of her ass. Straightening, he lifted her, holding her level with him, making it easier still to devour those honeyed lips.

  She moaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in even closer. He boosted one hand under her generous ass, kneading the firm globes. She moaned again, wrapping her leg around his thigh and pressing tighter, grinding the soft cushion of her pussy into the aching length of his cock.