Page 52 of Falling for the Firefighter
“I’m sure the tunnels exist. Like I said, I mapped them with my dad before the mine shut down. Can’t promise they’re stable.”
"That's not exactly confidence-inspiring."
"It's the truth." I hold his gaze steadily. "Sometimes, truth is all we have to work with. Besides, it’s my fault this is happening."
The second I say it, something shifts. His posture. His breathing.
He doesn’t respond. Just stares at me—too long, too hard.
My knowledge, my maps, my expertise—all of it weaponized against the mountains I love. The violation burns deeper than any physical wound.
Scout moves to my side, pressing her warm body against my legs as my voice breaks. She can read my emotional state better than any human and knows when the weight of responsibility threatens to crush me. Her steady presence grounds me, reminds me that I'm not carrying this burden alone.
She's been with me through every mountain crisis, every rescue, every moment of doubt. Her faith in me is absolute, unshakeable. If Scout believes I can handle this, maybe I can.
"Hey." Mac steps closer, reading the shame in my expression. "This isn't your fault."
"My maps?—"
"Were used by someone else for purposes you never intended." His voice carries absolute conviction. "You didn't cause this."
"But my work made it possible."
“Your work is also going to stop it.” His voice is low. Steady. Dangerous. He steps in, closer, until my back bumps the edge of the map table, and I have nowhere left to go. “Your knowledge. Your expertise. Everything they tried to steal and corrupt—you’re taking it back.”
His hands rise, framing my face, rough fingers surprisingly gentle as his thumbs brush my cheekbones. The reverence in his touch clashes with the fire in his gaze.
“You’re fucking brilliant.”
It’s a growl. A confession. A claim.
“The way your mind works… the way you see through chaos.” His voice roughens to a rasp, barely more than a breath against my skin. “Watching you piece this together—fuck, Josephine. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you right now.”
His hands flex against my hips. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
I still. Heat coils low in my belly.
“But I have to.” His forehead drops to mine. “I have to ease this ache. I need to feel you. Then maybe I can think straight again.”
“Mac…”
“I need to fuck you.”
He grabs my hips and yanks me into him—hard—until my thighs hit the map table with a dull thump. Paper crumples beneath me. Topographic lines wrinkle under my ass. Elevation grids scatter at our feet like confetti at a warzone wedding.
Chapter 11
The Fire Inside Us
“I’ve beenhard for you all morning.” His confession scrapes the air between us, low and raw. “Watching you work, seeing your intelligence in action. The way you command respect. The way you own every damn inch of your expertise.”
Scout shifts restlessly near the fire tower entrance, her ears flattening against the sexual tension crackling between Mac and me. She's learned to give us space during these moments, but her brown eyes track our every movement with the patient resignation of a dog whose humans have terrible timing. A low whine escapes her throat—not distress, but the canine equivalent of"seriously, now?"
His hands slidefrom my face to my shoulders, then down—wrapping around my wrists. Not holding. Testing. Daring me to pull away.
I don’t.
My breath hitches. My thighs part.
