From Air (Wildfire, #1)

by Jewel E. Ann

that kiss. “You’re generous. Distractingly mesmerizing. Quirky in a brilliant way. And ineffably beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I murmur before scraping my teeth along my lower lip and averting my gaze. “Anything for my person.”

“You kissed me, Fitz. Twice. Why did you kiss me?” “Because not kissing you became too exhausting.”

with the dinky blanket. My face hovers over his. “You just like my breasts pressed to your chest.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” I rest my cheek high on his chest. “I’m going to listen to your heart until you feel the need to make me think you don’t have one.”

It’s not that I’ve lost something. It’s that I can never have anything or anyone. Grief isn’t an anchor to the past; it’s a thief of the future.

across her face through the porthole on our right. “So what?” Her hands remain limp at her sides. “You’re not mine. But I’m yours, so the question is, What will you do with me?” I cup the side of her face and kiss her neck. “Mine,” I whisper.

“Your heart’s too big for one night. It’s the Pisces in you.” She hugs me. “It’s an unfortunate flaw you have.”

want to tell her, so she can fix the broken pieces of my life. That’s what she does; she makes everything better. But not this. She won’t understand my grief, my fears, my need to control what’s left of my life. When she reaches for the door handle, I hug her back to my chest, pinning her arms to her side. With my lips at her ear, I whisper, “I don’t pretend they’re dead. They are dead. They’re all dead.”

Enough? When she moves to California, it won’t be enough. If she moves back to Florida, it won’t be enough. As long as she’s on this earth, the distance between us will never be enough for me not to feel her, not to want her.

Jamie’s? “We’re friends. Close friends.” “Did you sleep with your close friend?” She doesn’t blink, but I’m sure all the previous suspicious incidents (close calls) are replaying in her mind. She’s known the answer without really knowing the answer. “Yes,” I whisper. “Do you love her?” “Yes.”

I don’t know if my long tail, pink nose, and whiskers do it for her, but I’ve never wanted to fuck a pussy so bad in my life. This woman looks more like a dominatrix than a cat.

“You look . . .” He whistles and shakes his head. “Don’t look at her,” I warn just as she spins in a circle. “And don’t spin around.” I grab her shoulders and lead her down the stairs.

“You’re right. I deserve everything,” she seethes. “So do the right fucking thing, and give it to me.”

more than I’m ready to hear. “It’s an awful way to die. The smoke. The heat. The panic.” He rests his head in his hands. “All because a crazy man started a fire to kill a fucking bear.” My. Heart. Stops. What is he doing? Why is he saying this?

I hear a noise while I stir my chili. “Is your hand back down your pants again?” “Fuck yeah.” I laugh. “I love you, Calvin Fitzgerald.” He tips his head back, eyes closed. “I know you do.”

Nathan glances up at me. “After Samantha married, a judge also granted her request to change Barbara’s name.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Barbara Keane is now Jaymes Lanette Andrews.”

She’s the fire I will never control. If I let her burn, she can bring new life.

from everything else. I must remind myself to breathe. She’s the breathtaking horizon. The canopy that slows my fall. The perfect place to land. She’s the quietude after the last flame dies.

She holds out a flat hand and shakes her head. “It’s a trip to the urologist to reverse your vasectomy.”

She sniffles, lower lip still trembling. “I’ve grown to love him in a complicated way, but Fitz . . . I love you more. So. Much. More.”

“Be my wife, Jaymes Barbara Keane Lanette Andrews.”