Page 85 of Burn

The mask hisses in my ear as he breaths. “I’m fucking trying! This shit is heavy and hard to move in,” he tells me, and I think he’s kind of getting pissed because it’s probably really difficult. Like trying to fuck someone with a forty-pound weight on your back. Wouldn’t be so bad but we’re standing, or he’s standing, and I’m half on the counter, mostly off it.

His undershirt is soaked with sweat, and the mask is now fogging up, but Caleb doesn’t stop and moves faster, determination in his every move, the breathing ridiculously labored.

Before I know it, he grunts—which inside of that mask sounds like Batman—and pushes inside me once more and then stops, his body shuddering with heavy breaths, hunching over me as he comes. He pulls out, just a little, then slams into me once more, groaning as he releases, again and again.

With his head forward, the mask near my face, not only is it sexy as hell, but he says something I can’t quite make out.

The tank on his back is buzzing, there’s something on his chest, a red button flashing and beeping as he rips the mask in one fluid motion, gasping for air and steps back, leaning into the wall for support. “Goddamn . . .” he gasps, shaking his head. He’s soaked in sweat. It’s beading down his face like he’s crying, his hair soaked as he fights for breath.

My eyes widen. What if he passes out? I can’t go out there and get the other firefighters. They’ll think I’m some kind of freak.

“Are you okay?” My eyes drop to his cock. It’s still hard, and the sight before me makes me laugh. Here’s a firefighter in full gear with his pants unzipped, cock out, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. And he’s covered in sweat.

It’s hot as hell, but I laugh.

Caleb’s head snaps up. “What are you laughing at?”

“I don’t even know.” I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand. “You’re sweating like crazy.”

I think it pisses him off because he steps toward me, grabs the back of my head and clamps his mouth down on mine and kisses me. Forget the fact that he’s sweating all over me, because I do. This kiss, it’s meant to show me I have absolutely nothing to laugh at right now. It’s the kind of kiss that stops fucking time is what it is.

He kisses me with such ferocity I don’t have time to respond. His tongue invades my mouth, groaning as he deepens the kiss. Being that he’s still out of breath, the kiss doesn’t last long before he pulls away attempting to draw in air.

His chest heaves with his rapid breathing, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at me as he rips the condom off and tosses it in the garbage can near the paper towel dispenser. He begins righting his gear and adjusting himself without another word.

Did I piss him off? I can never tell with this guy.

It takes me a moment, the blood rushing back to my legs when I peel myself from the counter and reach for a paper towel to wipe myself and my face off.

Bending over, Caleb retrieves my panties and his helmet from the floor.

I hold my hand out. “Can I have my panties?”

He replaces his helmet on his head and pockets my panties in one of the many compartments in his coat. “Nope. Mine now.”

Damn it.

He doesn’t zip the coat and then stands before me, his jaw clenching as he backs me against the tile wall near the door, one hand beside my head, the other slowly making its way from my hip to the side of my breast. “Next time I see you wearing this dress, I’m ripping it off you,” he whispers into my ear, close enough for me to feel his breath and then moves past me out the door.

With a deep breath, I smooth out the dress, and I’m actually impressed I didn’t rip it. I’m getting pretty good at this dirty sex.

I wait five minutes before I come out of the bathroom, trying not to appear too obvious.

Making my way back through the lobby and to the hall, I can see Caleb getting into the fire truck and the other guys patting his back, like they’re proud of him. No doubt he told them what just went down.

Nixon’s not pleased when I return. He’s standing in the back and pacing the marble floor by the door. “Where were you?”

I shrug and reach inside my purse for my lipstick. “Bathroom.”

His gaze holds mine. “Your hair and makeup are a mess.”

Shit. But you know what? I don’t care. What happened in there was totally worth it.

“Were you in the bathroom with that firefighter? The one I saw at the hotel? Because I just saw him walking from the same bathroom.”

I flinch, shocked he’s acting this way. He has no fucking right to accuse me of anything, regardless of the truth. “Nixon, I’m tired. I’m just going to head home.”

But he doesn’t let me and grabs me by the elbow. “Tell me you weren’t in there with him.”

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