Page 33 of Embers in the Outfield

Before I get to wipe myself off, he grabs my chin and gives me another punishing kiss.

“That was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had, Kennedy. Fuck baby, I can’t wait to do that again, but next time, we’re starting with you on your knees,” he says, and a cocky smile paints his features again.

I try to hold back a smile, but I know I’m already counting the minutes until I get to see him succumbing to me as I take him in my mouth.

CHAPTER 13

River

The light is shiningin as a new day warms the room. I blink my eyes open and realize I’m not in my bed. It’s in that moment memories flood my mind of all the things I did with Kennedy. Hours I devoured every inch of her body.

I look over, not seeing her anywhere in her room. I get myself up, taking a few extra seconds to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I had mentally told myself I wasn’t going to spend the night, keeping what we’re doing as casual as possible. But I must have passed out after round four of our sexual escapades.

Once I’m done getting myself semi-presentable, I make my way out of her room and into the kitchen. The moment I get close enough to hear her, her voice carries. She’s singing again, still the worst fucking voice I’ve ever heard, along with the sound of something frying in a pan.

I stand at the entrance to the kitchen and watch her move around, shaking her ass, that fucking hair curler contraption taking over her head, and moving the food along the pan. From what Ashton has told me, Kennedy can’t cook worth shit. It’s cute to see her try though.

“Morning, sunshine,” I say, causing her to yelp at my surprise intrusion.

“Fuck, River. I didn’t hear you!” She scowls as she points the spatula in my direction. From the little pieces of egg flying around, I assume she’s making them scrambled.

I make my way over to her and wrap her up in a hug, pulling her lips to mine. It’s going to take some getting used to that I can show some affection to the person who’s been so prickly since the second I met her.

A soft smile grazes her face as she hums in satisfaction once I pull away.

“Good morning, Riv. How did you sleep?” She gives a cheeky smile in my direction and winks.

“Barely at all, yet I have absolutely zero complaints,” I say as I smack her ass and turn toward the fridge.

It’s then I see a cutout of the newspaper taped on the refrigerator door, with my face plastered on it.

“Fucking hell, no!” I snatch the photo of me in my fire gear, holding a little girl in my arms. This was taken in the middle of the night during my last shift, and I’m beyond irritated to see myself in black and white.

“I never thought a uniform could look so sexy on a man before. Maybe you should wear that one day when you come over,” she says as she turns toward the stove, mixing the eggs a bit more.

“I appreciate the compliment, but I hate having my picture in the paper. Actually, all of us do. Damn it!” Annoyance oozes out of my tone.

“What’s the big deal? I mean, you’re doing something heroic. It’s hot,” she says as she looks my way, grabbing her lower lip. As much as I would love to grab that lip and carry her over my shoulder and have my way with her, I bring my attention back to the picture that’s now in my hand.

“What’s that look for? I mean, it’s just a picture, River.” If she only knew what a hassle it is to be photographed.

“Easy for you to say. Not only will the guys give me shit, I now have to make a batch of brownies before my next shift,” I explain, rubbing the area between my eyes.

The last time my picture was in the paper, multiple copies were put up along the house, that one a lot more incriminating because I was holding a little kid’s doll. The most comical part of it, I was holding it like an actual baby when they snapped the picture. I still find random copies throughout the firehouse just to fuck with me.

“They make you do it? Can’t you get some from the market?”

“No, the guys take food very seriously. Nothing can be store bought. The rule is that if you end up with a picture in the paper or you appear on the news during a shift, you’re in charge of bringing brownies on the next shift you work.

“When I was a probie, I went to the market and picked it up, ready-made, hoping to catch a few more hours of sleep before the shift, and they figured it out. The rule is it’s homemade, or you’re making brownies for a month straight. It’s a nightmare.” I roll my eyes as I ball up the photo, toss it into the trash, and open the fridge for a water bottle.

I grab what I need and make my way toward Kennedy, nuzzling her neck and breathing her in. She’s intoxicating, even more so now that I know how my name sounds coming off her lips when she climaxes.

“Hold your horses, big guy. We need sustenance, then we can do what you’ve got in mind.” She giggles as I move my scruff along the sensitive part of her neck.

“Yeah, not sure I can focus if you’ve got those things in your hair. Why does it look different this time? And how long have you been up?” I take a soft bite of her shoulder and move to open a cabinet in search of plates and mugs for coffee.

“Second one to the right,” she juts her chin in that direction, “and I tried something new. It’s a unicorn method. I got up early and had time to put the curler in so it would set before I have to head out. I worked out and showered already,” she continues, as I stare at her in astonishment.

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