Page 26 of Falling for the Firefighter
His mouth finds the back of my neck, breath hot against sweat-damp skin.
Neither of us moves for a long moment. Thunder rolls outside, but it’s a distant thing now—muted by the sound of our shared silence.
Hours blur together.
At one point, he pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me. His lips trail reverent kisses across my shoulder. He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I shiver—not from cold, but from the gentleness threading through the aftermath.
Later—much later—we lie tangled on our discarded clothes, my head on his chest, my leg thrown over his, skin slick with sweat, marked by teeth and bruising grip.
The fire has dimmed to embers, but he hasn’t let me go—not for a second.
His fingers drag slow patterns across my shoulder, like he’s tracing something only he can see.
“So,” he murmurs, voice rough, lips brushing my temple. “About those evacuation routes…”
A breathless laugh escapes me—unexpected, too light after the storm we just unleashed. “Are you seriously thinking about maps right now?”
“No.” His arm tightens around me. “I’m thinking about all the places I haven’t fucked you yet.”
Heat curls in my stomach. I shift against him, pulse quickening as his hand trails lower, skimming my waist.
“We’ll need to explore,” he adds, voice darker now. “Thoroughly. Every trail. Every overlook. Maybe somewhere quiet and secluded. Somewhere I can make you come loud enough, it echoes through the mountains.”
My breath hitches. He notices—of course he does.
“Something just lit up behind your eyes.” His voice is darker now, amused. “What was that thought, Josephine?”
“Nothing,” I murmur.
“That wasn’tnothing.” His mouth hovers at my jaw, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You got quiet. Your thighs tightened. What did you imagine just now?”
I bite my lip.
He doesn’t let it go. One hand slides between my legs, not stroking, just there—heat and threat and promise.
My throat tightens. I swallow, but it doesn’t go away.
“You’re going to tell me.”
He shifts, rolling us so I’m beneath him again, his body all heat and weight and restraint. One hand cradles the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek like a benediction. His gaze doesn’t waver.
"Tell me." His tone is silk and steel. “Or I’ll make you come and then make you confess. Your choice.”
My voice breaks on the first word. “It’s stupid.”
“I like stupid,” he growls. “Especially when it ends with you on your knees.”
I shiver. His fingers flex.
“There it is,” he whispers. “That little tremble. Shame and hunger, wrapped up tight. You on your knees? Is that what it is?”
I close my eyes. “That first day. The sidewalk.”
He stills.
“You grabbed my arm. Got in my face. And I couldn’t stop imagining you?—”
“Say it.”
