Page 24 of Falling for the Firefighter
For a moment, we're still, pressed together, panting, and ruined. Then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
And all I can think is—God help me, I’d let him do it all over again.
“I’ve thought about this since the second you ran into me,” he breathes, voice thick and gravel-laced. “I wanted to fuck you then. All that attitude. All that bite. You don’t know what you do to me, Josephine.”
The name punches straight through my fog.
“My name is Jo,” I mutter, breath still shaky.
His hand drags slowly along my ribs, thumb brushing under my breast with quiet ownership.
“Not for me. I’ve been inside of you,Josephine, and I’ll call you what I damn well please,” he growls, rough and close. “WhatI’ve earned. When you hear your name on my lips, you’re going to remember this moment. The moment I claimed you.”
His mouth finds the curve of my neck again, open and hot. “You fight like you want to be tamed. You come like you want to be wrecked. I’m going to do all of that and more, and Josephine…."
"Yes?"
"I’m just getting started.”
Reality seeps back slowly. I become aware of Scout watching us with canine confusion, the dying fire in the stove, the fact that my pants are around my ankles, and Mac is still inside me, his breathing gradually returning to normal against my neck.
Carefully, reluctantly, we disentangle. I pull my pants up with trembling fingers, tug my shirt down with hands that won’t stop shaking. The air feels colder without him.
Too quiet. Too real.
And I can’t meet his eyes.
"We should check the weather." The words scrape from my throat, brittle and false.
His laughter catches me off guard—low, rough, almost amused. But there’s nothing soft about it.
"You think we're going to check the fucking weather?" He reaches for my hand, his fingers warm as they intertwine with mine. "After sex like that?"
He tugs me toward him—gently, but there’s no mistaking the intent. He spins me, makes me face him. And God, his eyes… all the fury and fire is still there, but now it’s laced with something worse. Something better. Something dangerous.
"Mac—"
“Yes, Josephine.” My name leaves his lips like a vow. His hands cradle my face, tender but unyielding, thumbs grazing my cheekbones like I’m something holy and breakable. Like I’m his.
I try to laugh, try to brush it off, back away—but the walls press close, the storm howls outside, and I’ve got nowhere left to run.
“That was a mistake. Just heat and adrenaline. It didn’t mean?—”
“Don’t." His voice is a snarl, low and vibrating with control he’s barely holding. "You don’t get to dismiss this.” His eyes darken. His grip tightens. Not enough to hurt—just enough to hold.
“Don’t pretend what happened was accidental. Don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to yourself just because you came so hard you forgot your own damn name.” His grip tightens. Just enough to anchor. Not to hurt.
My stomach flips. My knees go soft.
“You came apart around me like you’d been waiting your whole fucking life for it. If you want to talk about mistakes? That wasn’t one. You’re not above needing what I gave you? I know the truth. I felt it in the way your pussy clenched around my cock. Heard it in the way you begged under your breath.”
He leans in, lips brushing mine without kissing.
“You don’t get to run from this.” His fingers tighten just enough to halt me, thumb brushing across my cheekbone like a promise. “I don’t regret a goddamn thing,” he says, voice low and steady. “And I don’t regret taking you hard, the way you need it."
He leans in, lips brushing the corner of mine, not quite a kiss—more like a claim. His voice is low, steady. Dangerously calm.
I try to step back, but there’s nowhere to go. Just walls. Just him. Just us.
