Kiss My Resolution

  Kiss My Resolution

  Hot Firemen, Book 2

  Beth Beaumont

  Copyright © 2020 by Beth Beaumont

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Chug

  Josie

  Also by Beth Beaumont

  Josie

  “No, I don’t want to go to a New Year’s Eve party with you and Colt,” I tell my bff, Holly.

  She met this incredibly hot fire fighter right before Christmas, and the two of them have been inseparable ever since. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t just the tiniest bit jealous, and the thought of being their third wheel at his fire fighter New Year’s party makes me shudder. Odd girl out? No thank you.

  “Oh, come on,” Holly wheedles. “I went to that silly Christmas gala with you and met the love of my life. You never know what might happen,” she waggles her eyebrows at me while blowing on her latte to cool it down.

  We’re having our first sanity break after Christmas, in a local coffee shop that has the most amazing croissants. I’m eating all the tasty stuff that I can before the New Year, because I keep telling myself that I’m going to eat better and exercise in 2020. I’ve told myself that pretty much every year since I was thirteen, but I’m determined to mean it this time. Epic eyeroll.

  I have goals, it’s just that I enjoy both food and being curvy, so I walk a fine line with my eating and exercise habits. I’m also going to finally let my hairdresser cut my curly red hair so that it’s shoulder length, in a futile attempt to tame the ginger beast that lives on top of my head.

  “Figure the odds that there are two hot fire fighters in the same unit, who happen to love thick chicks,” I raise an eyebrow at her, and spread strawberry jam on a torn off piece of fluffy croissant.

  “Thick chicks have more to love, babe,” Holly shoots back, wearing the satisfied look of a woman who just got thoroughly ravished by a perfect guy this morning.

  She and I are the same size – we share wardrobes sometimes – but she has curvier hips than I do. All of my sand is in the top of my hourglass, and I love to wear the tops that show off my…assets. Holly prefers snug jeans that display dat ass. Bitch. I don’t actually hate her for that – we both have our strengths, and no one can come between us. We’ve been besties since grade school, and I don’t see that changing. Which is why, against my better judgment, I sigh and give in finally.

  “Fine, but I’m wearing your low-cut, baby-blue angora sweater,” I huff, popping the bite of croissant into my mouth.

  The explosion of sweet, buttery flavor is glorious.

  “Oh, your tits will look exquisite in that,” Holly nods, excited that I gave in.

  “Damn right,” I laugh.

  “Perfect, so it’s a date!” she claps her hands, takes a big swig of latte and winces when she burns her tongue. “I’ll drop the sweater off later tonight, and we’ll pick you up around seven tomorrow,” Holly thinks aloud, grabbing for her water glass to chill out the effects of molten lava latte in her mouth.

  “Seven?” I give her a look. “That means I have to be there for at least five hours to ring in the New Year,” I sigh. “My socializing capabilities have limits, ya know.”

  “Oh, stop. There’s going to be a ton of food, so we can eat when we get there, and by the time we’re done, it’ll be at least after eight. You’ll be fine,” Holly assures me. “You can just sip at a lovely cocktail and check out all the firefighters. How can that not be awesome?” she grins.

  “Could be worse,” I agree. “Don’t worry about picking me up though, I’ll drive myself and just take a cab home if I need to.”

  Once I had a cocktail or two, I’d pretty much talk to anyone who had a pulse, so I’d have a good time. Besides, free food on my last day of debauchery. Nuff said.

  I found the perfect pair of jeans to wear with Holly’s ice-blue sweater. They’re a dark wash, and they lift and support in all the right places, without making a muffin top at the waist. I feel like a million bucks. I’m putting my hair up, because it’s so thick that it might make me overheat in a room crowded with hot guys. I want to look hot, but not hot enough to sweat. Eww. Besides, with my hair up, everyone will be able to see the amazing sparkly snowflake earrings that Holly got me for Christmas.

  I found a new auburn-colored mascara that looks great on my lashes, and that, plus a dab of pink tinted lip gloss gets me out the door most days. Tonight though, since I’ll need a little confidence boost, I take my time and do a full makeup, even slicking a thin coat of sparkly light blue eye shadow across my lids, which makes my eyes sparkle even more.

  Yikes, it’s time to go, and as usual, the doubts start creeping in. I’m a social person, but literally, Holly is the only person I’ll know at this party, and that makes me a little bit shakier than I normally would be. Oh well, I committed to it, so, with one last glance in the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door, I grab my jaunty jean jacket and head out. Watch out fit and fabulous fire fighters, here I come.

  I spot Holly, standing next to her boyfriend Colt, his arm draped over her shoulders, the instant I walk into the pub. I’m good at that, I can scan and find my friends in a crowd in two seconds flat. Holly waves and beckons me over.

  “You made it!” she squeaks, hugging me hard.

  She smells amazing, like vanilla and cinnamon – it’s the new perfume that Colt gave her for Christmas. Apparently he wants her to smell edible.

  “Of course I did,” I grin. “Now, where’s the buffet?” I tease.

  “I’ve got a smorgasbord standing right here next to me,” Holly growls and playfully pokes Colt in the abs.

  He just shakes his head and smiles. He thinks everything that she does is adorable. Why can’t I find a guy like that?

  “Hey Josie,” he says, chuckling. “Good to see you.”

  “You too,” I smile.

  You can’t not smile when a dude who looks like the cover of a magazine smiles at you.

  “Seriously though,” Holly pipes up. “Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  I’m not nervous enough to let it keep me from eating. That takes a lot, particularly on my last naughty eating day of the decade.

  “Me three,” Colt nods and leads us toward the hors d’oeuvres buffet.

  The spread is glorious, and I get so caught up in all of the choices that I don’t notice when Colt and Holly slip away to a table, their plates full. I’m standing, deciding between cheesecake bites and mini-brownies, for my little dessert plate, when I hear this sexy voice from behind my left shoulder.

  “I’d go with both,” the voice says, sounding amused.

  I turn around and look into the most hypnotic grey eyes I’ve ever seen. I nearly drop my plate. This guy is so damn gorgeous. Grey eyes that look like they should be in the face of a wolf or something, and medium brown hair, tapered on the sides and wavy on the top, with a body that was made for the bedroom. I kind of gawk at him, at a loss for words, looking like a fish out of water, with my mouth opening and closing.

  “Don’t you think?” he continues, grinning at me.

  Perfect teeth.

  “Right
??” I finally recover and answer breathlessly.

  “I mean, I’m a sucker for both cheesecake and brownies,” he says, acting like I’m not standing in front of him undressing him in my mind.

  I giggle.

  “Me too,” I say, turning back to the table to take two of each. “Want some?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I definitely do,” he licks his lips and I nearly faint.

  I take the tongs and snag some cheesecake and brownies for him, managing to put them on his plate without dumping anything down the front of either one of us, despite my trembling hands. It seems as though parts of my body, that have nothing to do with eating, have suddenly come to life in the presence of the hunk in front of me, and they’re demanding attention.

  “Here you go,” I say, my voice so faint that it’s nearly a whisper.

  I turn to find Holly and Colt, and the guy doesn’t leave.

  “Wanna find a table and sit down to dig in?” he asks, lifting his heaping plate.

  Mine is full, but looks sparse by comparison.

  “Definitely. I’ll be much more able to have a good time once I mow through this,” I confess, thrilled that he seems to be willing to keep me company.

  “Good,” he nods, seeming to approve. “I think watching a woman enjoy her food is so sexy,” he catches his lower lip between his teeth, making him look adorably shy.

  I’m sooooo your girl.

  “Well then, you’re in luck,” I say lightly, even though my heart is beating so fast and loud that he’s gotta be able to see the vein in my neck jumping up and down. “Because I am about to do some work on these hors d’oeuvres. Look, there’s a free table,” I nod to a spot over his right shoulder.

  “Let’s snag it,” he says, taking off.

  I love Holly, but I’m quite sure that she’d completely understand me not coming over to eat with her and Colt under the circumstances.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?” he asks, waving down a server.

  “Josie,” I say, right before the server gets to the table to take our drink order.

  “Hi,” he greets the long-haired guy, who’s covered in super-cool tattoos. “I’d like a chocolate stout, and the lady will have…” he looks over at me.

  “The same,” I say, not really knowing what a stout is, but entirely willing to try something new.

  It has chocolate in the name, how bad can it be?

  When the server leaves, the hot guy focuses back on me.

  “Nice to meet you, Josie, I’m Chug,” he reaches across the table to take my hand.

  I think he’s going to shake it, but he leans forward and brushes his lips across the back of it, sending shivers through me. My nipples harden and I squirm in my seat, suddenly conscious of the warmth behind the crotch of my jeans.

  “Chug?” I choke out, mentally wiping drool from my lips.

  “Yeah, it’s a nickname that the guys gave me years ago. I had quite the capacity for taking in certain carbonated beverages, as it turns out,” he chuckles, looking delightfully embarrassed.

  “So, you’re a fire fighter,” I say, picking up a black olive and popping it into my mouth.

  I barely notice the delicious saltiness, because I’m so powerfully aware of the muscled male in front of me.

  “Yep, for just over a decade now,” he nods. “What about you? What do you do?” he asks, looking like he’s actually interested.

  “Oh, nothing exciting,” I wave a hand at him and search my plate for another bite. “I’m a receptionist at an insurance company. It’s boring, but it pays the bills and I get to dress up every day,” I shrug, spearing a shrimp with a plastic toothpick.

  “I’d love to see that,” his eyes seem to become more intense, and I stop with the shrimp halfway to my mouth.

  Before I can even think about a sexy comeback, the server arrives with our drinks. They’re in beer glasses, but they look like colas with a head of creamy foam on them. When the server leaves, Chug picks up his glass and holds it up, so that we can toast.

  “To the new year,” he says, clinking his glass against mine.

  His eyes are locked on mine and I feel breathless, but I put the drink to my lips and take a sip.

  “Wow,” I gasp. “What is this?” I ask, staring into the drink, which isn’t even remotely transparent. It’s thick and the color of espresso.

  “Chocolate stout is a kind of beer that has some pretty cool flavors in it,” he smiles, letting his gaze travel down to my cleavage and back up again. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I say, goosebumps rippling up and down my arms as I feel his eyes on me. “It tastes so good.”

  “It’s my favorite in the winter,” he says, his eyes communicating things that our very innocent conversation doesn’t even reference.

  We talk for hours, sitting at that same table and drinking a few rounds of stouts. I’m lightly buzzed, but nothing dangerous or sloppy. Holly waves at me from across the room, and I wink at her.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” a voice announces from behind the bar. “It’s nearly midnight. Everyone on your feet! Raise your glasses and count it down with me…”

  Chug and I leap to our feet, laughing, and he pulls me against him, one arm over my shoulder, our eyes on the disco ball that’s dropping from the ceiling. His body is thickly muscled, and I press my hip against what feels like a raging hard-on behind his zipper. He catches my eye, knowing that I know what I’m feeling against my hip, and he looks…hungry. Like he wants to devour me. My panties get damp pretty damn quickly, but we turn our eyes back to the disco ball.

  “Okay everybody, here we go…5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!!! Kiss ‘em like you miss ‘em!” the voice shouted out, as confetti crackers popped around us and noisemakers rang out.

  Without hesitation, Chug turns me toward him and presses against me, his soft, full lips claiming mine, in a kiss that starts out gently, but then gets more intense and urgent by the second. My knees feel weak and I lean into him. When his tongue flicks lightly against mine, I feel like my body may just explode. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a man, and I want to take this one out back and climb him like a tree.

  He makes a great effort and tears his mouth from mine, gazing down at me with a look that doesn’t need interpretation.

  “Wanna get outta here?” he husks, running his thumb across my lower lip, which aches to be kissing him again.

  “Oh hell yes,” I whisper, nodding.

  He reaches down to covertly adjust himself, and I can’t wait to put my hands where his has just been. I want him so badly that I’m trembling. In public, no less.

  “Lemme go say goodbye to the guys, and I’ll meet you out front in five minutes, okay?” he says, brushing a soft kiss against my lips, so fleeting that I immediately want more.

  “Okay,” I agree, breathless.

  That’ll give me time to go to the bathroom before we leave. I wonder if he wants to go to his place, or if I’ll be taking him to mine. I’m acutely aware of my thighs brushing against each other, creating heat and friction as I head to the Ladies Room. It’s on. I’m going to ring in the New Year with a bang…literally.

  Chug

  Red hair is my kryptonite. I can’t resist women with red hair, and this one is a particular beauty. Those eyes, that body, her sense of humor…and she has freckles. She’s gotta be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, hands down, and all I can think about, after that New Year’s kiss, is taking her home and showing her how much I appreciate a smart, beautiful woman.

  I haven’t dated much since my ex and I broke up, almost two years ago – what a crazy train that was - and I’m definitely not thinking about a relationship for the new year, but this chick is clearly something special, and I can’t resist her. So we’ll spend some hot time together, and see what happens. We’re both adults, and there’s nothing wrong with…consensual situations between adults. She makes me horny as hell, but there’s more than that. She’s special, and I
have to find out why she has me so instantly fascinated.

  I say goodbye to Colt and the other guys, and I’m almost to the door, when someone slams into me, hard. I whip around, ready to do battle, and I see this drunk blonde, who can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, soaking wet, staggering around like she’s going to pass out.

  “Hey, you okay?” I ask, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady her.

  The alcohol fumes are coming off of her in waves, and she isn’t terribly responsive. My training kicks in and I start immediately evaluating her.

  “I don’t feel so good,” she moans, and I can smell the telltale scent of impending barf.

  “Let’s get you outside,” I say, steering her toward a side door.

  I feel her little body start to convulse, and I know we don’t have much time. I shoulder the side door open and propel her outside. I wonder how much she’s had to drink and realize that there’s a good possibility that she may need to go to the hospital for alcohol poisoning, based on her symptoms.

  With a wet grunt, she leans against the side of the building and spews a couple of cosmos, several shots, and at least one beer out onto the asphalt. The sounds of her retching are horrific, and unfortunately, she doesn’t stop, even when nothing is left in her stomach.

  “Can you tell me your name?” I ask, beginning my standard eval.

  She’s trembling from head to toe. Her eyes are half open, but there’s no awareness in them, and she seems incapable of forming a coherent thought or sentence.

  “You’re gonna need to go to the hospital, miss,” I say, and she starts retching again.

  I call 911 and explain the situation. Of course the dispatcher needs me to stay with the patient to keep them updated on her condition. This poor girl is so sick that she starts to fall. I catch her while I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder. She starts to lose consciousness and I snap my fingers in front of her face, trying to keep her alert. I’m watching her vitals, and things don’t look good for her. They’re going to need to treat her like an overdose. I’ve seen this so many times. Women who are this tiny can’t consume a ton of alcohol, so big celebrations can be dangerous.