Page 48 of Falling for the Firefighter
"Someone weaponized my work against these mountains. But they made one mistake."
"What's that?"
"They picked the wrong fight." My voice hardens with resolve. "These are my mountains. My maps. My responsibility to protect them."
“Then let’s hunt this bastard down.” Mac’s voice is low and certain, but his eyes aren’t on the fireline. They’re on me. Pinning me with the kind of look that strips away my layers until I’m bare beneath it.
He steps closer. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But I feel it.
The shift. The pull.
“You were thinking something just now,” he murmurs, voice pitched for my ears alone. “Back when you said those were your mountains. Your maps.”
I straighten, trying to be professional. “I was just?—”
“Don’t lie.” His head tilts, the edge of a smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re too honest in your eyes. Try again.”
Heat crawls up my throat. I glance past him, anywhere but those knowing eyes.
“I was thinking about what you said,” I admit finally. “Back at the ridge.”
His smile turns lethal. “Be more specific.”
“I was thinking about…” I swallow. “What it would feel like…"
"Beveryspecific." His gaze turns molten hot, and his fingers graze the back of my neck—just a whisper of touch.
Still, I tremble.
Not from fear. From want.
I open my mouth, but the words don’t come. They catch somewhere in my throat, heavy and hot, too tangled to speak aloud.
He notices. Of course he does.
“Can’t answer?” A slow smirk curves his mouth, all heat and dark promise.
I shake my head, barely.
His voice drops to a growl. “Tell me, Josephine. Are you thinking about calling meSir… or about being punished for the way your voice shakes when you do?”
My breath leaves me in a rush, knees suddenly weaker than I want to admit.
He leans in, brushing his lips along my jaw like he’s tasting the answer. “Because either way, sweetheart… I will find out.”
His palm splays low on my back, anchoring me there. And I can’t move. Don’t want to.
“When this fire’s out, you’re mine." He leans in, mouth brushing just beside my ear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I plan to discover every one of your fantasies. And then I’ll make damn sure you feel them. All of them.” His fingers graze the back of my neck—just a whisper of contact, and yet I tremble.
“Soon.” He pulls back before I can speak, his expression unreadable, voice sharp again as he turns to Parker. “Send a recon drone to the north flank. I want eyes on the old forest service road.”
And just like that, Captain Mac is back.
But I’m still standing in the wreckage of his words, my body lit up like a lightning strike…
Aching to obey.
Around us, the controlled chaos of incident command continues—radios crackling, personnel moving with urgent purpose, the machinery of crisis response grinding into action. But between Mac and me, something solidifies.
