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He was good at taking care of her. It was a not-unpleasant feeling, but she made a valiant attempt to get it together. “I’m good. You can finish your workout. Sorry I interrupted.”
“No apologies needed. Drink the ginger ale.” But he did back off, giving her the space to collect herself. As he resumed his reps, she sipped at the fizzy drink.
She dutifully made herself do the cardio and strength regimens recommended during first-year orientation. Those who did them had more energy for their studies, which gave her the reason to prioritize the time.
She expected Brick maintained his physique for his job, too. But their levels were drastically different. Lifting her had been nothing for him, and she could see why. The barbell he was lifting in steady reps over his head held plates well over her own body weight.
“Do arson investigators have to stay in this kind of shape?”
He grunted. “It doesn’t hurt. Sifting through debris, crawling into tight spaces. Because of the toxins that can linger after a fire, I still have to wear a lot of protective gear, even though it’s not as heavy as turnouts. Plus, like I said, I still occasionally join an engine house on their calls.”
“To help them know what to look for on your investigations.”
“You remembered.” He gave her a half-smile. Though his voice held some strain, he wasn’t abbreviating his responses. It was impressive, though she expected he consciously exercised his lungs as much as his muscles. Firefighting, even with breathing gear, would test that capacity.
He hung up the bar with a clang. “Yeah. Firefighters might see evidence before it burns up, or fire patterns while they’re happening. They can also remember key info offered by neighbors when they first arrive on site, like the Whitfield fire. So increasing that awareness helps me with my job, while I pitch in and help with theirs.”
“Plus you get to fight a fire or two.”
A quick flash of teeth. “There’s that. The firefighting bug is hard to lose.”
He adjusted the plates, adding more weight before he moved to squats. The muscles in his thighs and ass flexed against the stretched fabric of his shorts. From what she could see, if he needed to dead lift an adult human and carry them out of the fire, he was more than up to the task.
A smart man with the body of a god. She was surprised women weren’t camped outside his door, throwing their panties on the hood of his truck as he left for work.
What she was feeling wasn’t merely lust. It was tangled with a deeper need. Something that would help with the emotions she couldn’t seem to control. Her eyes lingered on his grip on the bar, the focus of his eyes and set of his mouth.
She wanted to believe him about Tish. All of this was new to her, yet the things he talked to her about touched her deep cravings, part of who she was. So familiar. But she kept getting snagged on the reality, a world where he could do those things with other women he didn’t consider…his.
“So,” he said. Down, up. Down up. Like her emotions and thoughts about…everything. “Sounds like you’re good to be here for a few days.”
“Yes. My advisor said I could use the time to study for my ER rotation exam.”
Apparently killing a patient wasn’t considered an automatic fail. The thought scalded her insides.
“Our worst mistakes can make us the best at what we do, doc.” He was too good at reading her face. Brick put the bar back into the rack, then sat down on the bench and picked up a dumbbell to start bicep curls.
She wanted to fire off an acidic comment about platitudes, but it was a nonstarter with him. He did know what their mistakes could cost the people they were trained to help. But that knowledge didn’t help her solve anything, so she shifted to a different problem.
“If I wanted to be your submissive…would I be one of them?”
He came to a full halt. “Pardon?”
“Sorry.” She bit her lip. “I should have waited until you were done to ask a question like that.”
He put the weight down. “You mean would you be one of my submissives? What if I said yes? What would your response be?”
“I’d say go to hell.”
The vehemence of her answer came up without warning, just like her breakfast. But truthfully, she didn’t like to be played with like that. She would have gotten up then and there, but his answer stopped her.
“Good. In a negotiated scene, a submissive is under my care. But that’s different from considering her mine. I don’t have a sub like that. The moment you tell me you want that, you will have my total and exclusive attention, Les. Got it?”
He held her gaze an extra beat. She returned her attention to the ginger ale and crackers, fingers playing nervously over them.
After a silent moment, he picked up a towel and rose. “I’ll grab a shower and we’ll go.”
Not entirely sure what she was doing or why, she got up and stepped forward. She extended her hand, a mute request for the towel.
