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“Your turn.”
Straddling his lap, she rocked against him, steady and strong. His blood went instantly hot, his pulse pounding even faster at the sight of her full, round tits moving in time with her body. Sam’s hands slipped up to shape her waist, and Lucy let him use them to dictate the rhythm of her hips. Angling herself forward, she placed one hand on the bed by his shoulder, her opposite hand coming up to cradle his face.
“I wantyou,Sam.”
The words were simple, but they ignited something inside of him that he couldn’t explain. Reaching out to cup the back of her neck, he pulled her close, letting her forehead rest on his as they moved together. Her mouth hovered over his, her breath coming in short bursts and needful sighs, daring him to push into her even harder. Faster. Deeper. Over and over, their bodies joined so fully he was sure she must be a part of him now.
Release curled through the white-hot need at the base of his spine, and he had no hope of holding back. Anchoring Lucy in place, Sam thrust wildly, his body shuddering, then going bowstring tight as he came, hard and hot, inside of her.
For some length of time that his brain couldn’t measure, they lay together in a tangled heap. His awareness returned in degrees—the slowing of breath, the flutter of Lucy’s heart beating against his sweat-damp skin, her curls framing both of their faces in a soft riot, her forehead still pressed to his.
She moved first, disengaging herself from his lap so he could slip to the bathroom to deal with the condom. He had no idea what to do next—it wasn’t as if he had otherworldly sex with friends-slash-co-workers every day (or, fine…ever). Lucy had asked him to stay, but maybe that had been code for “please fuck me senseless then go home to sleep in your own damn bed” rather than actuallystaying.Sam knew he could ask her. She wouldn’t be shy about asking him to stick around, or about booting him if she wanted space. He straightened his shoulders, heading back into her bedroom to do exactly that.
But then he took one look at Lucy and acted on instinct, pulling back the covers and drawing her into his arms so he could hold her as they fell asleep without saying a word.
19
Lucy was in deep trouble. Not only had she let her emotions—tricky bitches—get the better of her as she’d watched her car go up in flames, but she’d set all common sense aside and let her gut lead her right into bed with Sam. She’d meant to chalk it up to endorphins. After all, someone had set fire to her car, leaving her feeling shockingly vulnerable. She could’ve even pinned it on their brewing mutual attraction, the close proximity, the need to blow off steam.
But it had been so much more than that. Lucy hadn’t just needed the release of sex (fine. Great sex. Mind-bending, toe-curling sex. The best sex she’d ever had). She hadn’t realized it, but she’d needed Sam to hold her. To fall asleep beside her and make her feel safe. Cared for.
Even worse, the sun had come up an hour ago, and he wasstillholding her.
And she didn’t want him to stop.
“I can feel you overthinking this,” he rumbled, his voice laced with sleep.
Lucy’s heart smacked into her breastbone. He’d given no indication of being awake, but of course, her brain had been whirring too hard for her to really notice. “Oh. You’re up.”
Sam nodded, his lips brushing the top of her head and his arms steady around her rib cage. “And you’re overthinking.”
“I am not,” she said automatically, but yeah, that wasn’t going to stick. “Okay. I’mthinking,”she clarified, “but I have good reasons.”
Shit. Shit! This was exactly why she followed the rules instead of her gut. Her mouth had a mind of its own.
But, to her surprise, Sam didn’t push. “I figured you might.”
They lay there for a minute that became two, then three, and Lucy knew he’d let her drop the subject if she wanted to. But something about the warmth of the covers, the safety of his arms around her, made her realize that if she could trust him with her body, she could trust him with the truth of why she was so careful with it. Even if it made her vulnerable.
“I’ve always known I wanted to be a firefighter,” she said, the words shaky and soft. Sam’s heartbeat thumped steadily against her hand, and it grounded her enough to continue, “and I knew the training wouldn’t be easy. But until I got to the academy, I didn’t quite realize it would take more than my own hard work. No matter how much I studied or did drills—and I’m sure you’re not shocked that I did both alot—I had to learn how to rely on other people in my class if I wanted to really succeed.”
“Good firefighting is about teamwork,” Sam agreed. “I mean, we all have to be good, but no one’s an island. We rely on each other to get the job done.”
Lucy nodded, knowing now how true that was. “But it was hard for me to make friends at the academy. Even though my father, the department, and I all made sure we did everything by the book, I was still a battalion chief’s daughter, and a Black woman, on top of it. No one said anything outwardly. But there were enough micro-aggressions and cold shoulders that I knew some people thought I’d either gotten special treatment or just didn’t belong in the RFD, for one or all of those reasons.”
“That’s fucking disgusting,” Sam said, his heart beating faster against Lucy’s palm. “And also so not true. Your merit speaks for itself.”
“I know, but the truth doesn’t always matter.” She’d learnedthatfar earlier than her arrival at the academy. “Anyway, when one of the other cadets started being nice to me after about a month, I was relieved. He was ambitious and smart. Close to the top of our class, but still liked by the other cadets. Brandon was exactly the kind of person I wanted to associate with.” At least, she’d thought so at the time. God, hindsight was a cruel bitch.
“Wait,” Sam said. “Brandon Barlow? He’s at Forty-Six—blond guy? Kind of a douchebag?”
Ugh, Lucy should have known Sam would connect the dots. The rivalry between Seventeen and Forty-Six at the annual charity softball tournament had grown over the past few years, with Brandon’s trash talking mouth leading the way. Which was why she made a donation but skipped participating every year.
“Yeah, that’s him,” she murmured, her stomach pinching. “He offered to be my partner when we did first aid training. I was surprised, but not about to say no. Then he asked if I wanted to study together. We both wanted the top spot at the academy—I mean, who doesn’t, really—but by then, we were friends. I never thought anything of it. My father always talked about how his fellow firefighters weren’t just co-workers. They were his best friends. His family.”
“And you wanted that, too,” Sam said.
“I did,” she admitted, her heart beating faster as her words kept coming. “I’m close with my father, but our family is basically just us. He’s got his fire house family from when he was on active duty, and they’re all still thick as thieves. I wanted the camaraderie of a bigger family for myself, too. I wanted to belong, and for a while, Brandon made me feel like I did.”
