Page 87 of Falling for the Firefighter
“Bedroom,” I gasp, tugging at his belt with shaking hands.
He doesn’t hesitate. Lifts me like I weigh nothing, my legs locking around his waist as he carries me through the cabin. His mouth stays fused to mine, the kiss deepening with every step. It’s not gentle—it’s claiming. Every inch of me branded by the heat of him.
He kicks the bedroom door open and lays me out across the bed with a reverence that’s rough and raw all at once. His shirtis half open, jeans barely hanging on. I’m spread beneath him in nothing but skin and need.
Mac braces over me, breathing hard, his body tight with control he’s about to lose.
“When I was sitting in that damn hole,” he says, voice thick with memory, “with fire closing in from every direction… all I could think about was you.”
I reach for him, but he captures my wrists and pins them to the bed.
“I couldn’t see a future without you in it. I didn’t want one. Idon’twant one.” His grip tightens just enough to make me gasp. “I want my life. I want you. I want every goddamn inch of you in my bed and in my world. And I love?—”
He breaks off, jaw tight.
“I love the way you surrender to me.”
My breath catches. That word—love—lands like a thunderclap in my chest. I arch beneath him, mouth open, but no sound comes.
“I love the fire in you. The way you fight me and melt for me in the same breath. The way you need control until you don’t. I love the way you let go and give me your surrender.”
I tremble beneath him, everything inside me unraveling.
“You’re mine,” he says, lowering his mouth to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
He lets go of my wrists only to grab my thighs, dragging me down the bed and spreading me open for him. He doesn’t undress slowly. Doesn’t tease. He claims—stripping away every barrier between us until we’re nothing but skin and sweat and the taste of forever.
The world narrows to his hands, his mouth, the low growl of his name on my lips. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered order drives me higher. Takes me apart. And when he wraps hishand around my throat again, his body moves over mine with lethal control. I break apart beneath him, crying out as heat crashes through me.
He follows with a groan that sounds like worship, collapsing against me, breath hot against my ear.
When the world stills, when my body stops shaking, I feel his arms wrap around me, tight, certain.
"I love you. I need you in my life. I want you as my wife."
What follows is unlike anything we've shared before—not the desperate coupling against my desk or the adrenaline-fueled claiming after the tunnel rescue. This is exploration, discovery, the careful mapping of bodies with the same attention we've given to mountains and fire lines.
Mac takes his time, learning what makes me gasp, what draws out the moans he seems to crave. His hands are both gentle and commanding, guiding without forcing, suggesting without demanding. When he finally enters me, the connection feels like coming home.
Afterward, we lie tangled in sheets damp with exertion, my head on his chest where I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, touch gentle now that the urgency has been satisfied.
"When did you know?" I ask, the question emerging from comfortable silence.
"Know what?" His voice rumbles beneath my ear.
"That this was more than just..." I search for the right word, "physical attraction."
His hand stills momentarily, then resumes its gentle exploration. "The tunnel rescue. Watching you lead those people out, seeing your absolute confidence in your knowledge despite the risks." His arms tighten around me. "I've worked with the best firefighters in the country, people who run toward dangerwithout hesitation, but you faced your deepest fear and still didn't falter."
The admission warms something deep inside me. "And after? In the fire tower, when you pinned me against that map table? That was about admiration?"
His laugh vibrates through his chest. "That was about wanting to claim every inch of you. Mind, body, soul." His voice drops lower. "Still do."
I rise on one elbow to look at him properly, finding his eyes dark with renewed hunger. "Your team's on rest rotation for how long?"
“Twenty-four hours.” His hand slides into my hair, guiding me down for a kiss that promises much more to come. “And I intend to make the most of every minute.”
