AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I hold my breath and watch him watching me. His brows are drawn down in concentration as he plows into me without a break.
Urgency blooms within me— the need to breathe twines with the need to come, and I suddenly understand what he’s doing.
The climax explodes out of me, stars dancing before my eyes. I suck in a breath as Blaze releases my mouth. I let out a wail of release as the bed dances against the wall, Blaze balling me with all he’s got.
My wail rises in pitch and then he shouts, too, one hand flying to the wall above me while he fucks me through his release and more.
I float into another universe, knowing nothing but the rhythm of my breath matched with Blaze’s, the mingled sweat of our bodies and the stillness in our sexual aftermath.
Blaze jerks, suddenly, pulling out. “What day is it?” he asks sharply. His eyes are on the clock beside my bed.
“Sunday.”
“Shit.” He climbs out of bed and starts pulling on his clothes. “I have to go. I have to help a friend move.”
He shoves his boots on and clomps for the door. “Sorry to run out like this. I hope... ah... it was good for you.”
I can’t answer because I’m too surprised, too disappointed.
He waves before he’s out the door and I pull a sheet up to cover myself, not that there’s anyone to see me. Just because I’ve never felt so naked. I stare through my empty apartment, my heart pounding.
He hopes it was good for me?
What the hell does that mean?
Wow. I know exactly what it means. It means I’m a kinky hookup.
Blaze has a life—friends to see. Stuff to do. I actually know nothing about the guy other than that he’s a captain at the fire station.
And why does it feel like he knows everything about me? Because I laid myself bare to him. Let him in, let him humble me.
I let things go way too fast. He was right about one thing—I was playing with fire.
And now it feels like I just got burned. No, not burned. I don’t have enough information to know to what extent I’ve been used. Or how far he intends for this to go.
I’ve been singed, then.
I reach for a book of matches and turn it over in my hands. Striking matches really isn’t that bad a habit. It’s not like smoking, or drinking or cutting. It doesn’t damage my body.
But the vision of my childhood home in flames flashes in front of my eyes.
I toss the matches on the bedside table. It’s not because he told me not to.
It’s because I’m stronger than this.
This is my choice.
Chapter 8
Blaze
The team isout at the grocery store together, shopping for our shared meals when we get a call, which sucks. We leave our carts while Rocket promises the manager we’ll be back and we jump in the truck.
The fire is another abandoned building.
“It’s the same kid,” Lia says with absolute conviction as she pulls up and lines up the truck with the hydrant.
“What makes you think it’s a kid?”
