How Do Firemen Make Love (Flame On) by Dréa Riley Page A

over her. She sat her laptop and briefcase on the credenza by the door and scanned the ground floor for signs of life. The open floor plan down here let her quickly check all the common areas of the house. The house smelled of lemon and pine, so she knew her bosses were out. As fun as it was living here with the two when they were in Las Vegas, after the day she’d had covering their collective backsides, all she wanted to do was be alone and sleep.
    Making her way into the kitchen, Karri kicked off her Stuart Weitzman sandals and pulled the band from her thick raven hair. Sighing as the tension from having her locks bound so tightly to her scalp escaped her, she padded to the fridge and grabbed a juice box.   Smiling, she made a mental note to pick up some more when she went out for groceries. She didn’t know when the two divas would be home, but she didn’t want to have a grumpy Dréa on her hands because the stash of kid-style snacks was depleted.   She also noted they were nearly out of corn tortillas and limes, so she’d need to make sure to snag some of those as well. Though Laura wasn’t as eccentric as Dréa, she was very picky about what she would eat, and she accompanied every meal with a tortilla and lime.
    Shrugging her shoulder, Karri snagged a banana from the fruit bowl and made her way upstairs to her room, unbuttoning her shirt as she went.   She’d spent hours wishing she could just come home and get out of the expensive torture device that was her bra. Hell, if Dréa offered to cut her boobs off again, she might just take her up on the offer.
    Topping the stairs, she stood for a moment and undressed, dropping the nondescript white shirt and khaki-colored skirt on to the landing, near where the washer was hidden behind closed double doors. Karrington had no clue of the picture she made standing with her arms over her head, working out the kinks. She had no clue how her long ebony locks looked touching the top of her high, round butt as she braced her hands on her lower back and arched to relieve the tension that had been pooling there and in her neck. With the twin globes of her breasts pressing upwards, the satin of her bra did nothing to hide their turgid peaks. Peaks that challenged a man to risk life and limb to conquer their slopes. Karrington had absolutely no clue of the invitation she was sending—and that only a mere hundred yards of air separated her from a man who was ready and willing to fan the flames of her desire and then slake his thirst on her nectar.
     
    *****
     
    Matthew Harveston was turned on. Screw that; turned on is what happens to sixteen-year-olds when flat-chested, non-related females walked by. Matt was beyond turned on—there were no words to describe the way he was feeling. Complicate that with the fact he was standing outside the home of some of the craziest females on earth in broad daylight, staring at a half-naked goddess with his entire manhood straining against the button fly of his jeans. Matt shook his head and looked around, hoping no one had seen him staring into the window and praying that if someone had seen him, the person hadn’t followed his gaze and watched the same striptease he’d seen.
    He’d been on his way to check on his two new favorite divas.   Despite the fact that in the scant few days since meeting them, he’d realized they were more of a danger to society than he’d been led to believe, Matt loved hanging out with Laura and Dréa. Life was never boring. The two lived like overgrown kids, playing video games and riding the go-carts around their expansive backyard. He’d had to pull a couple of long shifts down at the station, so he hadn’t seen them since they’d been cleared of any wrongdoing in the recent hotel fire.   Not seeing the dynamic duo was trouble. Like children, when you couldn’t hear them and couldn’t see them, they were probably up to no good.
    Matthew had no clue that when he’d set out down the block from his