Page 101 of Dream Weaver

I chuckled. Definitely not.

“So let’s operate on that principle, shall we?” she’d continued. “Because I will die if you don’t screw me right now.”

So, really, I was just doing as I was told. And doing it to her (very) deep satisfaction, judging by the happy sounds she made.

Cowgirl was great, and missionary always worked. But nothing beat the sheer power of this position. And since Abbyliked it too — no surprise, since blacksmiths were all about hard banging…

I closed my eyes and gave it everything I had. Abby had lit a bunch of candles, and although they had burned low by then, they all started flaring again. I just hoped she didn’t inadvertently burn the place down.

Then again, I was a firefighter.

The first time I’d noticed the candles, I’d been thrown for a loop. She was a witch, right?

Now, I decided I preferredwoman with unique abilities. A woman who made me feel complete.

After all, I was a bear shifter, but I was a regular guy too. And hopefully, I madeherfeel complete.

In any case, the special effects were a sign of her approval — and kind of a turn-on. What guy wouldn’t love knowing he was responsible for creating a few fireworks?

Every time I thrust, she squeaked, and the candles pulsed. Every time I pulled back, the candles hesitated, in the same way that Abby held her breath. Then when I slammed in again, the fireworks exploded. Over and over until—

Abby let out a sharp cry, and fire blazed through my veins. Real fire, it felt like. I gritted my teeth, extending the sensation as long as I could. Then I went limp over Abby, and the candles dimmed to tiny, glowing dots.

Abby recovered before I did, patting my thigh softly while I panted over her shoulder. Eventually, I got myself together long enough to clean up, then spoon together. I held Abby close, nuzzling her shoulder. Marking her as mine, even though I wasn’t aware of it at first.

“Okay, I have a new favorite,” Abby murmured.

My mind was still a little hazy. “Favorite what?”

“New favorite position, dummy. What’s that called anyway?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You plan on discussing this with someone else?”

She snorted. “Yes. My sisters, their fathers, and all the secret lovers I’ve been keeping you in the dark about.”

I chuckled and fessed up to my limited sex vocabulary. “Lazy dog? Jockey, maybe?”

She stuck a finger at my chest. “Aha. Someonehasbeen discussing it.”

My cheeks heated. “Just overhearing. You know, locker-room talk — a co-ed locker room,” I added quickly. “Female firefighters can be worse than guys sometimes.”

“We are not!”

I grinned. Spoken like a true firefighter — you could leave the job, but the job didn’t leave you.

“You absolutely are,” I insisted.

“Are not, and I’ll prove it.”

I waited.

“What starts with the letter F and ends withuck?” Her eyes danced.

I laughed, sliding a hand over her hip. “Not obvious?”

“It’sfire truck.”

I rolled my eyes.

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