Page 10 of Christmas with the Firefighter
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, thumb stroking across my cheekbone. "Good. Because I'm nowhere near done with you yet."
The promise in his voice sends a fresh wave of heat through me. "No?"
"Not even close." He presses a soft kiss to my lips, then my jaw, then the sensitive spot below my ear. "We have all night, remember?"
"All night," I repeat, like a vow.
And when he starts to move inside me again, already hardening despite having just come, I realize he might be serious about that.
The second time is slower, more exploratory. He takes his time mapping my body with his hands and mouth, finding every spot that makes me gasp or arch beneath him.
We move together with increasing urgency, and when I hook my leg over his hip to change the angle, he makes a sound of pure appreciation.
"Like that," I breathe, and he responds by gripping my thigh, holding me open for him as he drives deeper.
This time when I come, it builds slowly, starting as a warm glow in my belly and spreading outward until every nerve ending is singing. I whisper his name like a mantra, and when he follows me over the edge, I swear I can feel it in my soul.
We lie there afterward, tangled in sheets and each other, breathing slowly returning to normal. His arm is around me, my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"I should probably go," he murmurs eventually, though he makes no move to actually leave.
"Should you?"
He's quiet for a long moment. "Probably not. But I should want to."
"Why?"
"Because this is supposed to be temporary. One night. You're leaving tomorrow."
I trace patterns on his chest, following the trail of dark hair with my fingertip. "I am."
"So this is—"
"Just tonight," I finish, even though something in my chest rebels against the words.
"Just tonight," he agrees, but his arm tightens around me as he says it.
Outside, snow continues to fall, and somewhere in the distance a clock chimes the hour. Christmas Eve is well underway now, and I'm lying here naked with a man I met hours ago, pretending this doesn't feel like the beginning of something instead of the end.
But temporary can be perfect too, can't it? This moment, this warmth, this feeling of being exactly where I'm supposed to be. Even if it can't last.
Chapter 4 – Corey
I wake to the sound of her breathing.
Not the sharp intake of someone startled awake, but the soft, steady rhythm of deep sleep, quiet enough that I might have missed it if I weren't lying so close, close enough to feel the gentle rise and fall of her ribs against my side.
Miranda is curled into me, one arm draped across my chest, her face pressed against my shoulder. Her hair spills across my pillow in waves that catch the pale morning light filtering through the curtains, and when I shift slightly to look at her, she makes a small sound in her sleep and burrows deeper against me.
This is dangerous territory. Lying here watching her sleep, cataloging the way her eyelashes rest against her cheeks, the small freckle just below her left ear, the soft curve of her mouth that I can still taste on my lips. Dangerous because it feels too much like contentment, like belonging, like all those things I learned not to want.
But I can't seem to make myself move.
The digital clock on the bedside table reads 6:45, which means I've been lying here for at least twenty minutes, just watching her breathe.
Twenty minutes of trying to reconcile what happened between us last night with what I know about myself, about the distance I maintain, about the rules I've built to keep situations exactly like this from happening.
I don't do this. Don't wake up next to women I barely know, don't feel this pull toward someone who's checking out in a fewhours, don't lie here memorizing the texture of someone's skin like I might need to recall it later.
