Page 8 of The Firefighter's Claim
The air between us thickens, charged with possibility. I've been half-hard since she stepped out of the bathroom in my shirt, but now my cock throbs painfully, demanding attention.
She swallows, her throat working in a delicate movement I want to trace with my tongue. "I don't want to put you out of your bed."
"You won't be." I step closer, invading her personal space. "I'll be in it with you."
Her breath catches. "Dagger, I?—"
"Tell me you don't feel it," I challenge, voice dropping to a growl. "This thing between us."
She doesn't pretend not to understand. "I feel it," she whispers. "But it's crazy. We just met. I don't do this."
"Do what?" I press, needing to hear her say it.
Her cheeks flame. "Sleep with men I barely know."
I cup her face in my hand, marveling at how delicate she feels despite her lush curves. "You know me, Connie. Maybe better than anyone ever has."
And it's true, though I can't explain why. From the moment our eyes met in that burning room, something locked into place. Recognition. Belonging.
"I want you," I tell her, done with pretense. "Have since I first saw you."
Her lips part on an inhale. "No one's ever looked at me the way you do."
"How's that?"
"Like I'm..." She trails off, suddenly shy.
"Perfect," I finish for her. "Because you are."
I brush my thumb across her lower lip, feeling its plush softness. "I'm going to kiss you now," I warn her. "And once I start, I don't think I'll be able to stop."
She has a chance to back away, to say no. She doesn't take it.
Instead, she rises on tiptoes, closing the last bit of distance between us. "Then don't stop."
The consent ignites something feral in me. I crush my mouth to hers, one hand tangling in her damp hair, the other dropping to her waist to pull her flush against me. She gasps into the kiss, giving me access to deepen it, to taste her more thoroughly.
She tastes like mint toothpaste and something uniquely her—something I'm already addicted to. My tongue explores her mouth, claiming every inch. Her arms wind around my neck, her soft body molding against my harder one.
I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed, then follow her down as she falls onto the mattress. Supporting my weight onmy forearms, I hover over her, breaking the kiss to look at her flushed face.
"Last chance to tell me to stop," I say, the words nearly killing me.
Her response is to pull my shirt over her head, leaving her completely naked beneath me.
"Fuck," I breathe, taking in the sight of her. She's all lush curves and soft skin, full breasts tipped with dusky pink nipples, a gentle slope of stomach leading to the thatch of dark curls between her thighs. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.
She tries to cover herself, suddenly self-conscious under my heated gaze. I catch her wrists, pinning them gently beside her head.
"Don't," I command softly. "Let me look at you. You're gorgeous."
"I'm not?—"
"You are," I cut her off, brooking no argument. "Every inch of you is exactly how a woman should be."
I release her wrists to strip off my own shirt, then my sweats and boxers in one efficient movement. Her eyes widen as she takes in my body, lingering on my erection standing proudly from its nest of dark blond hair.
"You're huge," she whispers, and I can't tell if it's appreciation or apprehension in her voice.
