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“Look, don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of brats with attitude, otherwise I’d never have asked you on a date. In addition, I asked around town about you.”
“Hold on, Sherlock. Just exactly what did your gossip spree tell you about little ole me?” I demanded to know, lifting my chin and meeting his gaze straight on.
He began listing his discoveries, counting them out on his long fingers, “Love ’em and leave ’em, that’s your motto. You’re all about living in the now. And above all, monogamy’s not your thing.” He reached out with a hand and twirled then tugged a strand of my hair that had fallen from where I’d shoved it behind my ear. “But from here on out, angel, you’re my one and only. And I’m yours. No other men. Not while you’re with me.” Without hesitation, he picked up my spoon and scraped the rest of my mousse out of its bowl, and slid the delicious dessert past my lips. “Do I make myself clear?”
It was the chocolate coma, or the sex spell he cast over me… no argument came.
I didn’t resist this man who wanted to claim me as his alone.
All I could do was nod silently as a new and unexpected warmth surged through me, pooling, of course, at my pussy.
“That’s my girl. Now let me take you home.”
Great, just great.
I was twenty-seven years old, knocked up, and about to bob on the knob of the very same stud who got me that way in the first place.
CHAPTER4
RILEY
After our date, Faith let me into her duplex and once inside, I kept my hand on her shoulder in a possessive gesture. “Don’t believe everything you hear about firefighters,” I enlightened, wanting her to know more of the real me than I’d shown any other woman before. I felt compelled to share more than what she saw on the surface.
She’d let me into her modest duplex, which was decorated in what she told me was “Bohemian” style. Her sister helped. It looked like a scene out of Morocco instead of Briarville. It wasn’t the first time I admired the easy connection the two young women shared. Against all odds, they were even succeeding at mixing blood and business, no straightforward task.
“How do you mean?” I realized she was talking to me and had to remind myself to focus. “I can’t say I know a lot about your profession. You must have a hero complex. Thank goodness, otherwise no one would get rescued.” Her nose wrinkled up when she teased me and I found it adorable.
An eruption of pink suffused her cheeks when I ate her up with my eyes, and it took all my strength not to shove her onto the carpet and snarl, “Wrap those pretty lips around my dick and pull like you’re sucking thick milkshake through a straw.”
My inner-dom wanted to cross the line as per usual.
And with Faith, it was even harder to reel it in.
I imagined her lightly scraping my balls with her short fingernails, which were painted lime green to match her eye shadow.
My fingers squeezed into fists—a bad sign. A man didn’t get to be fire chief without learning to resist temptation. Overcoming the urge to run every time he heard glass shattering and the crackling of flames engulfing a building. Holding out against hiding in a corner instead of running toward the smell of burning flesh in a collapsed structure with people trapped inside.
Faith was a weakness I couldn’t keep at arm’s length. A memory that would never leave me.
At night I was haunted by her cries when I sent her over the edge. Her fingers firmly around me, tugging as she sucked.
I needed her closer.
Close as I could get.
Inside her.
The only way to ease this yearning was by being inside her.
Not just physically.
Though it was impossible to ignore how hard she made me, I longed for something beyond our surface-level interactions.
What were we discussing?
I replied after the uneasy quiet, “We’re no different from anyone else. Like Emerson said, ‘A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.’”
Her questioning gaze searched mine, then she remarked, “You sell yourself short, too. I thought I was the only one!”
