Page 27 of Burn Protocol

21:10 Maya Carter –

Nah, I think one firefighter at a time is enough for me.

21:14 E. Gonzales –

Trouble keeping up?

21:15 Maya Carter –

Only because I am not as fit as you… yet!

21:16 E. Gonzales –

Is that a challenge?

21:16 Maya Carter –

Maybe… would you like it to be?

21:19 E. Gonzales –

I don’t say no to challenges. Let’s get you fit. Got some ideas.

I stare at my screen until it dims and goes black, my mind still spinning. Is Elena flirting? Or is she actually taking me up on getting me fit? You and your big mouth. I groan again. If I don’t answer her text, it will get weird. If she was flirting it’ll feel like a rejection. If she wasn’t flirting, she might think I thought she was. My brain can’t keep up.

21:21 Maya Carter –

I don’t know if I should be scared or excited…

21:26 E. Gonzales –

Both, but neither… Not until Monday.

I stare at my screen again, chuckling as my cheeks grow crimson. Yeah, this feeling in my stomach is definitely the result of a chemical cocktail in my brain. Nothing more, nothing less. Uh-huh.

My hand twitches at my side. I look down as it spasms again and realize it feels clammy. Odd. Are you nervous? Should I be? I shrug off the thought and enter the small apartment building.

The stairs are to my right and I climb them two steps at a time. There is a faint smell of cigarette smoke mixed with old wine, and the paint peels off the walls. It’s not what I imagined for Maya. I expected something fancy and sophisticated to match her brain. Not this kindling-box of a building.

My mind goes over all the things that are just wrong. These buildings are old. They come with highly flammable insulation for starters and there isn’t a single fire extinguisher in sight. The stairs are already questionable without any flames, and the windows are small, leaving no room for escape. The carpet on the floor comes loose here and there, making it easy to trip over.

In other words, Maya is living in a death trap. And I don’t like it one bit. Because you want to be her savior. Shut it!

I shake off my thoughts and rap my knuckles against her door three brief times. I hear some shuffling and then the door swings open. My breath catches immediately. Maya looks as radiant as the sun. Her blonde hair is pinned up with just a few wavy strands to frame her face, drawing my eyes to her neck. Her bare neck. I bite my lip and gaze over the deep green dress that dips just low enough to make my knees go weak. Gonzales, keep it clean! I blink rapidly before I start to mutter.

“Hi, hey. You look…” I trail off.

I whip my head down to look over my own outfit quickly. At least I wore my crisp black slacks and a black shirt. I even let my hair down for once. Simple and acceptable, but not quite as elegant as Maya’s attire.

“I fear I underdressed.”

Maya’s eyes flick up to mine, her pupils wide. She shakes her head once, her cheeks turning a soft pink. Is she blushing?

“You look perfect,” she whispers with a hoarse voice.

At the sound of it, an electric jolt surges through my body. It comes on so powerfully that I almost moan. Especially when her lips part slightly and she runs her tongue over them. How I want to taste that tongue—taste her, have her in my mouth. Do it! I shudder and inhale a shaky breath. I am so fucked. Maya isn’t just some annoying reporter. She is everything all at once, and I crave her. All of her.

Part of me wants to step forward and press her against the wall. To pin her there and let my hands roam over her sides as I press my lips against hers and open her mouth with my tongue. To feel her tongue slide against mine and have her moan against my lips.