Page 45 of Falling for the Firefighter
"What?"
"I liked it.” His pupils dilate. Hunger. Heat. A flash of something primal beneath the surface.
“Liked what? That I understand?”
“No.” His gaze hooks mine. Dark. Blazing. Molten and locked in. Possession threaded through every syllable. “The way you said‘Yes, sir.’”
My stomach plummets. I swallow hard. The air thickens until it sticks in my lungs.
“You have no idea what that does to me.” He steps in again, close enough to smother thought, close enough that I feel theshape of his restraint—and how little holds it back. His eyes drop to my mouth like he’s imagining exactly how he’ll take it.
I can’t breathe.
“You say that again,” he growls, low and lethal, “and I swear…” His hand slides up, fingertips grazing the side of my throat—just a hint of pressure, a phantom claim. “You’ll find out exactly what kind of man you called sir.”
My whole body coils, breath catching. My thighs clench, heat blooming low and wicked. I sway toward him, needing contact, needing friction.
He leans in, his breath hot at the shell of my ear.
“Now go.” His voice is pure sin. “Before I fuck you up against this tree with your pack still on.”
Scout waits a few feet away, her intelligent eyes tracking between Mac and me. She shifts her weight from paw to paw, the canine equivalent of checking her watch—urgent business to attend to, humans being ridiculous.
When I finally step back from Mac, she immediately moves to my side, ready to work.
My knees buckle a little. I back away, legs shaky, the fire in my blood a live thing. Pulse pounding in my throat—and between my thighs.
I don’t look back.
Because if I do, I won’t leave.
I’ll let him take me apart right here in the middle of a goddamn emergency.
I stumble once, catching myself with a curse.
Behind me, he laughs. Low. Dark. The kind of laugh that coils around your spine and stays there.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he says softly. Almost smug. "The fire burning between us…"
"Yes, sir," I tease, then spin around before he can react. Did he intimate what I think? He liked me calling himSir?
What else does Mac enjoy? I’m eager to find out.
I descend through loose shale and scattered pine needles, each step carefully calculated to avoid triggering a rockslide that would create a different emergency.
The family is still visible on the main trail, moving too slowly, the children's energy flagging as smoke thickens the air.
Scout ranges ahead of me, following scent trails only she can detect, automatically choosing the most stable footing through the treacherous terrain. When we reach the family, she immediately approaches the children—no sudden movements, just a gentle canine presence that makes their eyes light up despite their fear.
"Is that your dog?" the little girl asks, reaching out tentatively.
"This is Scout," I tell her as Scout sits patiently for small hands to pet her head. "She's going to help us find the best way out."
The boy's tears stop as Scout nuzzles his palm. Nothing calms frightened children like a confident dog who knows what she's doing.
The father, mid-thirties, soft around the middle, clearly not an experienced hiker, keeps looking over his shoulder at the advancing fire. Fear radiates from his movements, the kind of barely controlled panic that leads to poor decisions. The mother carries the family pack, too heavy for her frame, while trying to encourage two kids who've reached their physical limits.
I intercept them at the trail junction, emerging from the tree line.
