Page 23 of Let it Sizzle
I lift a brow, feeling way braver than I actually am. "Please. You’re the fire chief. Who’s gonna fire you?"
He grins, slow and lazy, like he’s already undressing me with his eyes. "You, if you asked nicely enough."
Heat rushes up my throat, but I find myself smiling back instead of hiding.
It’s dangerous, how easy he makes it to forget to be afraid.
"Good to know," I tease, holding the tube against my chest. "But tonight, I’m here for business, not pleasure."
Levi’s eyes darken instantly, that crooked smirk spreading across his face. "You sure about that? 'Cause you’re looking real good for a business meeting, baby."
I laugh—actually laugh—because only Levi could make me feel both flustered and powerful at the same time. "Flattery won’t get you out of filling out those overtime reports you’re ignoring," I say, nodding toward the messy pile on his desk.
He chuckles low, the sound rough and wicked, his gaze raking over me like he’s trying to memorize every curve. "I can think of better things to fill out tonight, sweetheart."
I roll my eyes, but my cheeks are on fire, my chest tight with wanting. "You’re shameless," I mutter, stepping closer.
He rises from his chair, slow and steady, like a man stalking prey. Every flex of his muscles under that soft T-shirt makes my mouth go dry.
I uncap the poster tube, fingers trembling slightly, and slide the rolled-up paper onto his desk. I smooth it out carefully, my palms skimming over the page, my heart lodged somewhere between my throat and stomach.
Levi steps in behind me, so close the heat from his body seeps into my skin.
The poster is simple but powerful. A firefighter carrying a small girl out of a burning building, his body a solid shield between her and the flames. Her arms clutch his neck, her small fingers tangled in his shirt over his heart.
It’s us.
The night he saved me.
For a moment, there’s no sound except the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Then I hear it—a low, broken soundripped straight from Levi’s chest. Like the air’s been punched out of him.
"Jesus, Serena," he murmurs, his hand curling around my hip like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. His palm brands me through my thin dress, anchoring me to him.
I turn my head to look up at him.
What I see there—raw pride and something wild and deep that he doesn’t bother hiding—punches the breath right out of my lungs.
"I wasn’t sure you’d like it," I whisper, my voice small and shaky.
He moves so fast it makes me gasp, spinning me around to face him fully. His hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks with such aching tenderness I could sob.
"I don’t just like it," he says, voice thick and low and rough. "I fucking love it. You hear me? I love it."
Before I can say a word, his mouth crushes down on mine.
There’s nothing tentative about this kiss. It’s heat and desperation and something far deeper threading between our bodies, something that feels terrifyingly permanent. I whimper against his lips, and he groans deep in his chest, dragging me flush against him.
He lifts me onto the desk in one smooth move, stepping between my thighs like he belongs there. His hands skim down my sides, over my hips, making me tremble.
"I’ve missed you all goddamn day," he growls against my mouth, kissing me harder, deeper, until I’m dizzy from it. "Thinking about you. Wondering if you were thinking about me too."
"I was," I breathe, fisting the front of his shirt to pull him closer.
He nips my lower lip, then soothes it with his tongue. His hands slip under my dress, skimming up my bare thighs, making me shiver.
"You drive me crazy, baby," he mutters, voice wrecked. "You’ve always driven me crazy."
I moan into his mouth, letting my legs wrap loosely around his waist, grinding against the thick ridge pressing against his pants.
