Page 36 of Melting for the Firefighter
“Say it again,” he says.
His voice moves over my skin like rough velvet.
“I want you.”
His mouth covers mine.
The kiss is deeper than before. Hungrier. One hand slides into my hair while the other closes firmly around my waist, holding me against him as though he has spent too long forcing himself not to.
I have never been kissed like this.
Like every breath matters.
Like every small sound I make belongs to him.
Like I am something he has wanted for years and has finally stopped denying himself.
His tongue strokes mine, and heat rolls through me so quickly my knees weaken.
Lance feels it.
His arm tightens around me, keeping me upright without breaking the kiss.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my lips.
The same words he gave me in the fire.
They mean something different now.
They still make me believe him.
He lifts me from the floor.
I wrap my legs around his waist without thinking, my dress gathering around my thighs.
A groan tears from his chest.
The sound sends a rush of heat between my legs.
His forehead presses briefly to mine. His breathing is no steadier than my own.
“Bedroom.”
It is the only word he gives me before carrying me down the hall.
His hands stay firm beneath me. His heartbeat pounds against my chest. Every step feels like another choice, and he gives me time to stop him.
I do not.
The bedroom is still scattered with pieces of me.
The sweatshirt I borrowed is folded over the chair. The cracked frame Jordan pulled from the apartment rests against the dresser, Grandma still smiling through the broken glass. Her journal sits on the nightstand beside the spare key tied with green ribbon.
I have been here less than two days.
Somehow, I am already everywhere.
Lance sets me carefully on my feet beside the bed.
