Page 13 of Let it Crackle
I shatter around him, crying out his name, trembling under the weight of it. And seconds later, he groans loud and low, driving into me with one last, brutal thrust before he comes—hot and thick, pulsing deep inside.
The silence afterward is only broken by our ragged breathing.
He brushes his mouth over mine. Gentle now. Sweet. “You still think I’m out of your league?” he whispers.
I don’t answer. I just pull him down and kiss him like maybe—just maybe—I’ve written my own happy ending.
Chapter 6
Maddox
She’s stretched out on my couch in nothing but my fire station T-shirt, glasses slipping down her nose, one bare leg hooked over the armrest like she owns the place. Hell, maybe she does. Most nights lately, she ends up here after our shift at the library. Wearing my shirt. In my space. Smelling like home.
And I’m completely wrecked by it.
I don’t even hesitate. I scoop her up like she weighs nothing, and she lets out a squeal that hits me square in the chest.
“Maddox!”
“That’s me,” I mutter, grinning against the side of her neck as I carry her toward the kitchen wall. “You said something about a wall scene earlier. I’m just being a good boyfriend and doing my research.”
She gasps, pretending to protest, but she’s gripping my shoulders like sheneedsthis. Like she needsme. Her thighs tighten around my waist, and her nails dig into my shoulders through the thin cotton of my T-shirt.
I cage her in against the wall, one forearm braced beside her head, the other hand gripping her ass, anchoring her to me. Our bodies press together — hot, needy, perfect — and I swear, if my shift didn’t start in less than an hour, I’d take her right here, let her feel exactly what she does to me.
“Still think I’d throw my back out?” I ask, my voice low, teasing.
She licks her lips. “Still think I’m trying to turn you into my fantasy?”
I lower my head and kiss her. Hard.
There’s nothing tentative about it. Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I take full advantage — tongue sweeping in, tasting her, owning her. She moans into the kiss, one hand tangling in my hair, the other pulling me closer, like she wants to climb inside my skin. The heat between us spikes, sharp and all-consuming, like we’ve been waitingyearsto cross this line.
I rock my hips against her just enough to feel the friction, and she gasps into my mouth, breathless and wrecked.
“Jesus, Maya,” I groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Just then, my alarm crackles to life across the room. I need to get done and get to my shift.
Fuck. Not now.
I groan and press one last, lingering kiss to her lips before slowly setting her down.
She straightens her shirt, cheeks flushed, glasses askew, and somehow even hotter than before. “Duty calls?”
“Yeah. But I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I toss my jacket on and grab my station bag from beside the couch, but I keep stealing glances at her.
Maya. In my shirt. Hair mussed. Lips swollen from kissing me like she wanted to eat me alive.
She’s leaning against the counter, trying to look casual, but I know better. Her fingers are still clutching the hem of my T-shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. And I’m supposed to walk away from that?
Hell.
I walk over, press a kiss to her temple, and let my hand trail down her back, slow and possessive. “I was thinking,” I murmur, voice low against her skin, “maybe it’s time you came by the station.”
