Page 2 of Let it Ignite
I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching as I force my attention back to the chaos around us, ignoring the way my body is reacting, the way my blood pounds in my ears, the way my pulse roars like the fire around us.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” I growl, tightening my grip on her as I kick through a pile of smoldering debris, my muscles straining as I push us through the crumbling doorway. “I’ve got you.”
She whimpers, her face turning into my neck, her breath hot against my skin, and I feel a shiver run through her body, her bare thighs squeezing against my side as I duck under a falling beam, my grip tightening instinctively. My heart is a wild, reckless drumbeat in my chest, every nerve ending sparking with adrenaline and something darker, something hotter, something I shouldn’t be feeling right now.
But God help me, I feel it. I feel every curve, every tremble, every hitch of her breath, and it’s driving me out of my mind.
We hit the stairwell, and I catch a glimpse of Zeke’s flashlight cutting through the smoke below, his boots thundering against the cracked, splintering steps as he clears the lower floors.
“Got one!” I shout down to him, my voice rough and strained, my arms trembling under the combined weight of her body and my gear, the muscles in my forearms burning as I clutch her tighter, my pulse roaring in my ears.
By the time we burst out into the cool night air, my lungs heaving, my body drenched in sweat, my arms shaking with the effort of carrying her, I’m half-crazed with the need to put her down and take a breath.
I set her down on the edge of the ambulance, my arms still half around her as she sways, her knees threatening to giveout. She’s shaking, her wide, terrified eyes darting around like a cornered animal. Her breaths come in short, frantic gasps, each one tearing at her throat.
I can feel the heat still radiating off her, her skin flushed beneath the soot and streaked mascara. Her hair clings to her damp cheeks, wild and tangled, and the faint, unexpected scent of roses clings to her like a ghost, cutting through the sharp tang of smoke and burnt plastic.
She looks up at me, and for a second, our eyes lock. Something primal stirs in my chest, a protective, possessive urge I have no right to feel. I shove it down, forcing myself to focus.
“I need to check you over,” I say, my voice rough, still tinged with the adrenaline pounding through my veins. “Make sure you’re not hurt.”
She flinches, her eyes skittering away. “I’m fine,” she whispers, but her shaking hands tell a different story.
I gently cup her jaw, turning her face back to me. “Hey, breathe,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over her soot-streaked cheek, the soft, flushed skin warm beneath my calloused fingers. “You’re safe now.”
Her eyes snap back to mine, a flicker of something other than fear sparking in their depths, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. She’s beautiful. Even now, drenched in sweat, eyes wild and panicked, she’s got that kind of raw, untamed beauty that makes a man forget he should keep his distance.
I drop my hand, my pulse still racing. “I’m a medic. Let me check you over. Sometimes people don’t realize they’re hurt until it’s too late. The adrenaline blocks the pain. It’ll just take a minute.”
She hesitates, her throat working as she swallows back another sob. Finally, she gives a shaky nod, her breath catching as I reach for her wrist, my fingers sliding over her delicate pulse point. Her skin is soft, her pulse a frantic staccato beneath my touch.
I run my hands down her arms, checking for burns or cuts, my fingers skimming over her soft, trembling flesh. Her breath hitches as I press gently against her ribs, my hand splaying against her side, feeling the frantic rise and fall of her chest. My eyes can’t help but drop to the deep, heaving line of her cleavage, the tops of her breasts rising and falling with each desperate breath, the thin leather of her dress doing little to hide the curves pressing against my hand.
Damn it. Not now.
I grit my teeth, dragging my eyes back up to her flushed, tear-streaked face, my jaw clenching as I force my hands to move lower, skimming over her hips, my fingers brushing against the smooth, exposed skin of her bare thigh. I feel the shiver that races through her body, the way her breath catches, the way her pulse flutters wildly beneath my touch, and I have to fight the sudden, overwhelming urge to pull her closer, to press my mouth to the soft, trembling line of her throat, to feel her body arch against mine.
“Nothing broken,” I manage to grit out, my voice rough, my throat tight. “You’re going to be okay.”
She lets out a shaky, broken breath, her eyes squeezing shut for a second before she looks back up at me, her lips parting, her chest still heaving, her breath coming in quick, desperate gasps.
“Do you have someone I can call for you?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intend. “Family? Friends?”
Her eyes shimmer with fresh tears, her lips parting as if the words themselves might break her. “No,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t have anyone.”
Her gaze drifts to the burning building behind them, the flames swallowing what little she had left, the twisted metal and shattered glass a cruel reflection of her shattered life. She draws a trembling breath, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the loss.
“And there goes my whole life.”
That hits me harder than it should. I clench my jaw, the possessive, protective urge flaring hot and insistent. She’s alone. Alone in a city that’s just tried to swallow her whole. Alone with nothing but the clothes on her back and the fear in her eyes.
And a crazy idea hits me.
“Alright,” I say, my grip on her wrist tightening. “Then come home with me. Just for tonight.”
She flinches, her eyes widening, a flicker of fear sparking behind the tears. “What? No, I—I can’t just go with a stranger. I don’t even know you.”
I feel a dark, unwanted satisfaction at the defiance in her voice. That tiny spark of fight, even now, even after everything.
