Page 24 of Wild Fire

Could this morning get any worse?

“Then I guess I’ll just have to clean you up myself.”

My eyes open wide, and I see him kneeling in front of me, towel in hand with a smirk on his face and suddenly I can’t help but laugh, too.

“I slipped,” I squeak.

“You okay?” he asks, handing me the towel, and I can tell he wants to laugh, but is trying not to. I groan in remorse.

“Physically, great. Mentally…”

I do my best to wipe the cum off of me and tuck my cock back into my briefs, feeling like this is going to be one of those moments I replay in my mind for the next twenty years when I can’t sleep.

AJ leans down to look at me, trying to capture my gaze, but I fight to look at him. I want to, but this is fucking embarassing.

The guy saved my ass—twice, now—and this is how I repay him?

I’m an idiot.

Mister Unlucky.

“I hope you like pancakes,” he says, his voice light. Carefree.

It’s an odd sort of tone, given the fact he just found me jacking off in his bathroom.

While thinking about him.

Not that he knows that, of course, and I’ll take that to my grave. This situation is embarrassing enough as is.

I follow him out to the kitchen, and my mouth starts watering immediately.

There is a giant stack of thick, fluffy pancakes atop a plate, set on the kitchen table. There’s also a platter of bacon, sausage, and a giant bowl of whipped cream and fruit.

“What the hell is this?” I ask in shock.

“Breakfast,” AJ grunts. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

I glare at him.

“I wish. I could use some amnesia right about now.”

AJ chuckles. “Sit down, Nate. Eat some fucking pancakes.”

I have the strangest urge to tell him Yes, Sir. But that would be weird, I think because I vaguely remember moaning those words last night because I was wasted, so it’s probably best I don’t. For both of our sakes.

Instead, I let out an aggravated sigh as AJ pulls out the chair for me and sulk over to it and sit my ass down. I grab the fork and stab my pancakes like I want to murder someone.

Maybe I do.

Starting with the smug, hot firefighter sitting across from me.

“Good boy,” he says, his voice low and deep, his smirk too fucking hot.

My body heats like an inferno, and I stab another pancake with too much fork.

These pancakes are really good, actually. Soft, hot, and sweet as sin.

“So…” He clears his throat as he carefully cuts his pancakes into little slices before taking a bite. It’s weirdly attractive. “First time?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and I nearly choke on my pancake.