Page 44 of Falling for the Firefighter
Donovan’s voice crackles over the comms. “Requesting additional support. Four hikers stranded near the upper switchbacks. Visibility dropping fast.”
“Twenty minutes.” Mac turns to me, voice all business. “Get them to the service road and hold position until the all-clear.”
“Yes, sir.” The words leave me automatically—efficient, clipped.
But something shifts. His eyes flick to mine with a sudden, sharp heat.
I’m already cinching my pack tighter, fingers moving fast through practiced motions. Knife. Gloves. Flare. Emergency beacon clipped front and center. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.
Then Mac steps closer, looming behind me like a storm wall. Heat radiates from him. His hand catches my wrist before I can go. Not restraining—just anchoring.
“Be careful out there.”
“Always am.”
His grip tightens just enough to make me gasp—and then I’m yanked flush against his chest. The impact steals my breath.
“I mean it, Josephine.” His voice is low, rough gravel laced with steel. “No heroics. No unnecessary risks.” Hard. Demanding. Possessive.
I open my mouth to argue—of course I do.
He doesn’t let me.
His mouth crashes down on mine, a brutal collision of heat and command. It tastes like smoke and need, and the sharp tang of warning. His tongue claims, unapologetic. One hand knots in my hair, the other clamps over my hip like he owns it.
Owns me.
Like he’s staking a claim before we walk into hell.
The storm howls around us, wind screaming through the treetops. I barely hear it. He kisses me like punishment.
Like promise.
Like this is the only moment we’ll ever have, and he refuses to waste it.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathless. His fingers still wrap tight around my wrist.
“Consider it an order,” he growls. "Get in. Get out. No heroics. Just… just come back to me."
My breath hitches. I don’t look away.
He doesn’t let go.
“And if you disobey me out there…" His mouth brushes my ear, velvet and dark. "We’ll have words. Real ones. The kind you’ll feel.”
A beat. My spine lights up with heat. My breath falters.
“You understand me?”
God, I do. I nod. The smallest motion.
“Say it.”
“I understand.” My voice cracks.
He stills. Something shifts in him—like a fault line snapping under pressure.
“There’s something you need to know,” he murmurs, voice a shade lower. Rougher.
