Page 22 of Fire Me Up (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #2)

Dylan

I parked across from the station—a two-story brick building with massive bay doors currently open, revealing one fire engine gleaming under the lights.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I stepped out of the truck.

This was a mistake. This was insane. I should just turn around, drive back to Denver, and stop torturing myself.

Instead, I crossed the street, walked through the open bay, and found myself standing awkwardly in what appeared to be the main living area of the station. Three firefighters sat around a kitchen table playing cards. A fourth was stretched out on a couch watching TV.

“Can we help you?” One of the guys at the table looked up—tall, buzz cut, biceps like small mountains.

I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for Gael Sanchez.”

The effect was immediate. All four heads swiveled toward me, card game forgotten, TV ignored. The guy on the couch sat up so fast he nearly fell off.

“And you are…?” Buzz Cut asked, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“A friend. My name is Dylan.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying not to fidget under their collective stare.

“Holy shit!” The guy on the couch jumped to his feet. “You’re Dylan? THE Dylan?”

Another firefighter—this one with a sleeve of tattoos and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once—let out a low whistle. “No fucking way. Sanchez’s Dylan?”

“The guy who broke his heart?” Buzz Cut crossed his arms, his expression shifting to something more evaluating. “I guess I could see that. You’re kinda hot.”

I blinked, unprepared for this reception. “I... what?”

“You’d better be here to fix that shit,” Broken Nose said, tossing down his cards. “Dude’s been moping around like someone kicked his puppy. Or his cat, I guess. I don’t think he’s a dog person.”

“You know about Bacon?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

All four men burst into laughter.

“Know about him?” The fourth guy, who hadn’t spoken yet, snorted. “Who the fuck could know Gael and not know his cat? That orange menace comes to work with him half the time. Has his own little bed in the corner of the captain’s office.”

“Is he here? I need to I started, then stopped. What was the point of denying it? “I just want to see him.”

The four exchanged glances, some unspoken communication passing between them.

“He’s upstairs,” Broken Nose finally said, jerking his thumb toward a staircase at the back of the room. “Locker room. We just got back from a call.”

Buzz Cut stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Ask him to be your boyfriend, okay? I can’t take another day of him sighing over his phone like a thirteen-year-old girl.”

“And for fuck’s sake, reply to his text messages,” Couch Guy added.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and headed for the stairs. With each step, my heart rate kicked up another notch until I could feel my pulse in my fucking eyeballs. What was I going to say? What if he told me to fuck off? What if he didn’t?

The locker room wasn’t hard to find—just follow the sound of running water. I pushed open the door, stepping into a cloud of steam. The shower area was just visible through the mist, and there he was, back to me, water streaming down his body.

I froze, struck dumb by the sight of him. Water cascaded over the broad planes of his shoulders, down the curve of his spine, over the perfect globes of his ass. He was even more beautiful than I remembered, all golden skin and hard muscle. I wanted to touch him so badly my fingertips ached.

He turned, sensing my presence, and for a long, suspended moment, we just stared at each other. His eyes widened, lips parting in surprise, droplets clinging to his eyelashes.

“Dylan?” His voice was rough, disbelieving. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Words failed me. All the excuses I’d rehearsed evaporated in the steam.

Gael reached for a towel, wrapping it around his waist, and I caught a glimpse of something on his right ass cheek—dark ink I hadn’t seen before. A tattoo. New.

“You got a tattoo,” I said stupidly.

Gael’s cheeks flushed, and he adjusted the towel higher. “Yeah. I kind of… um. Yeah.”

I remembered his words when I was tracing my fingers over his body, examining the ink, remembering what he’d said about his tattoos. They’re for people who have a piece of my heart. “Can I see it?”

He hesitated, then turned, dropping the towel just enough to reveal the ink on his right cheek. My breath caught in my throat. It was a small, perfect sketch of my motorcycle, and the sidecar. Underneath, in flowing script, were words I couldn’t quite read from this distance.

“What does it I started to ask, but never finished.

“Why are you here, Dylan?”

I looked away, then shrugged. “I got your text. And I miss you, too.”

He tilted his head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“When you’re not there… I don’t know. It hurts too much, and I’m so fucking scared of what that means.”

Gael stared at me for a long moment, then crossed the space between us in two quick strides, grabbed me by the front of my shirt, and slammed me against the tile wall.

His mouth crashed into mine, hot and desperate and tasting of mint.

I gasped against his lips, my hands instinctively finding his hips, pulling him closer.

“You fucking asshole,” he growled between kisses, his hands gripping my face. “Two weeks of nothing. Not a word. I can’t fucking live without talking to you.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, then kissed him again, deeper, trying to pour everything I couldn’t say into the press of my lips against his. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

His hands were everywhere—shoving up my shirt, yanking at my belt, desperate for skin. I matched his urgency, spinning us so he was the one pinned against the wall, my thigh pressing between his legs. He was already hard, his cock hot against my denim-covered leg.

“Need you,” he panted, nipping at my bottom lip. “Need to feel you inside me. Need to know you’re really here.”

Those words sent a bolt of pure want through my body. I fumbled with my zipper, my hands shaking so badly I could barely manage it. Gael helped, his strong fingers making quick work of my jeans, shoving them down my thighs.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I murmured against his neck, breathing in the clean scent of his soap, the underlying musk that was purely Gael.

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Definitely mine.”

He stared at me for a long moment, holding eye contact. “Okay, well fuck me all better.”

“Is that really the right

“You ran away. I’m the injured party here, if I ask you to fuck the pain away, you’d better damn well do it.”

I couldn’t really argue with that, so I pulled out my wallet, sorting through it, sighing with relief when my fingers closed around a packet of lube.

Gael’s jaw went tight. “Why do you have that? Have you…” He swallowed. “Have you fucked someone else.”

“I haven’t been inside anyone since you. Couldn’t. You ruined me for every other man, baby.”

His mouth quirked up a little. “Did I?”

“Turn around,” I whispered, and Gael complied immediately, bracing his hands against the tile wall, legs spread Enough to make up for our height difference, back arched.

The sight of him—wet and willing and absolutely perfect—made my throat close up. I tore open the lube packet with my teeth, slicked my fingers, and reached between his cheeks. He was already loose, already ready.

“Did you...?” I couldn’t finish the question, because if he was fucking other guys, I was going to lose my goddamn mind. And I didn’t have any right to be angry with him for it, so that probably wouldn’t end well.

Gael looked over his shoulder, his eyes dark with want. He laughed a little when he saw my expression. “No need to hunt some guy down and murder him. It was just a dildo, jackass. Nothing like having you inside me.” He swallowed, eyes darting down. “Nothing would ever be like having you inside me.”

Something broke open in my chest, raw and vulnerable. I slicked myself up, positioned the head of my cock at his entrance, and pushed in slowly, watching him for any sign of discomfort. There was none—only a look of blissed-out relief that probably mirrored my own.

I gasped as I bottomed out, the tight heat of him nearly overwhelming. “You feel so good. So perfect.”

Gael reached back, gripping my hip, pulling me closer, deeper. “Fuck, just… fuck. How can you not know this is where you belong? You’re supposed to be inside me. I can’t survive without it.” His voice broke as he pressed back, letting out a quiet sob.

I dropped my forehead against his shoulder, breathing him in, letting my hands slide around his waist, clinging to him with everything I never wanted to admit.

“Move, Dylan. Please.”

I did, establishing a rhythm that had us both panting, the shower room filling with the sounds of wet skin slapping against skin, of broken moans and whispered curses.

I reached around, wrapping my hand around his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts, determined to watch him come apart around my cock.

“Not gonna last,” Gael warned, his voice strained. “Been too long since I’ve hard you.”

“Me neither,” I admitted, feeling the pressure building at the base of my spine. “Come for me, Gael. Want to feel you.”

He did, his body clenching around me as he came with a muffled shout, spilling over my fist and against the tile wall. The sight of him coming undone pushed me over the edge, and I buried my face against his shoulder as I emptied myself inside him, my entire body shuddering with the force of it.

For a long moment, we just stood there, breathing hard, my chest pressed against his back, my softening cock still inside him. Reality slowly seeped back in—we were in his workplace, where anyone could walk in. I’d just fucked him bare against a shower wall.

Gael seemed to realize it at the same moment. He shifted, and I backed off, easing gently out of him. He turned and met my eyes, and I surged forward slamming my mouth against his, and he returned the kiss for a long moment, holding me close.

“We need to talk. You need to tell me what the fuck is going on,” he said softly, stroking my face with a tenderness that made my chest ache. “But not here. Somewhere private.”

We cleaned up quickly, Gael tossing me a towel and pulling on a fresh uniform while I fixed my clothes. As we stepped out of the locker room, I remembered the tattoo.

“What does it say?” I asked. “Under the motorcycle.”

Gael’s smile was soft, almost shy. “The ride of my life.”

Something large and unnamed expanded in my chest, threatening to overflow. I reached for his hand, not caring who saw, needing the connection.

As we descended the stairs, all four firefighters from earlier were waiting, arms crossed, expressions expectant.

“This your last day?”

“Nah, I have a few more shifts.”

Buzz Cut asked, eyes flicking between us. “You sure you wanna leave us for this idiot?”

Gael laughed, his cheeks turning pink. “I told you, I’m moving closer to my sisters.”

The guy with the nose eyed me. “Yeah, yeah, sisters. Believable. Definitely not anything to do with the hot Asian guy who’s staring at you like he owns you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Gael said, grinning to take the sting out of the words. “I’m out of here, guys.”

I stood there bewildered as Gael grabbed a duffel bag from near the door.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we stepped outside into the cooling evening air.

Gael looked at me, a mix of determination and vulnerability in his eyes. “I requested a transfer to Denver before I left town. And it went through.”

“For me?” I asked.

“I mean… not like in a creepy way?” He combed a hand through his hair. “My sisters are there, and before underwear night in the club, I kind of started to feel like you might

My heart stopped, then restarted at double speed. “What?”

“It’s stupid. And probably creepy. Just pretend it’s only because my sisters live in Denver and I realized how important family is.”

“But you’re moving to Denver?”

“In a few weeks. Gotta find a place to live and stuff.”

“So you were going to show up and, what? Woo me?”

He laughed, his cheeks bright red. “I don’t know!

I thought maybe we could… I don’t know, work things out.

Convince you to go dancing every night until you realize the way we fit on the dance floor means something.

Honestly, I hadn’t fully come up with a plan.

” He ducked his chin, cheeks turning even more pink as he bit his bottom lip.

“I mean, my sisters are in Denver, too, so I’m not like… chasing you. That much.”

I looked at his sheepish expression and smiled. He was so chasing me. And that I didn’t mind it one bit.