She lowered her messenger bag and slid to the corner of the fire escape, curling her fingers around the black metal bar that served as a railing. The damned thing was flimsy on its best day, which by Cole’s estimation had to have been thirty years ago. Unfortunately for him, the fire escape’s lack of structural integrity didn’t seem to bother Savannah a bit.
“I haven’t seen the sky this clear since I was back home in Texas.” Pressing up to her toes, she tipped her face to the wide-open expanse over their heads, the mahogany waves of her hair spilling down her back as she scanned the night sky.
“Savannah.” Her name scraped past his lips on a warning, but he couldn’t help it. She was leaning halfway over Fairview, for fuck’s sake. Her brazenness was going to be the end of her.
And with the way her eyes glittered, dark brown and dangerous in the moonlight, it might just be the end of him, too.
“I mean it,” she said, the bars of the fire escape letting out a rusty squeak as she tilted forward just a fraction more. “It’s just—”
Before he could fully register the command pumping down from the primal part of his brain, Cole’s boots hit the landing, one arm snaking around Savannah’s waist while the other guided her shoulders firmly against the stone exterior next to the open window.
“Beautiful,” she finished on a whisper. Her chest thrummed against his, although he knew his had to be rising and falling just as fast in return.
“You’re three stories above the ground.” The stone was rough on his forearm where it wrapped around the back of Savannah’s ribs, and good, yeah. There was something to focus on. Something solid. Something right in front of him.
He should let go of her, focus be damned. She felt too good, warm and sweet and strong with their bodies matched from shoulder to thigh.
Savannah’s fingers found his hip just below the belt loop on his jeans, and Cole held her even tighter.
“The fire escape is perfectly sturdy, see?” She lowered her gaze to the platform, just for a second before latching back on to his stare. “It’s holding us both up just fine.”
“You still shouldn’t tempt fate.”
Her laugh coasted past his cheek on little more than a breathy sigh. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really a play-it-safe kind of girl. I’m fearless, remember? I think fate shouldn’t tempt me.”
Oh, to hell with fate. Cole was going to tempt her, long and hard and right goddamn now.
He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her in one seamless stroke. Her lips were so much softer than he’d expected, so sweet and seductive at the same time that they were almost like a puzzle he was dying to figure out. Cole uncurled his fingers from their grip at Savannah’s shoulder, sliding his palm under the curve of her jaw to cup her chin. Holding her in place, he coaxed her mouth open with a brush of his tongue. But rather than submissively giving in to the kiss, she returned every movement, sweeping her tongue from the hot confines of her own mouth to boldly kiss him back.
“Cole.” Her fingers dug into the denim on his hip, his cock going instantly hard as her lips parted in a grin. Cole kissed her again just to taste her smile, and Christ, he didn’t want to stop at her mouth.
So he didn’t.
“Come here.” Without waiting for her to respond, he tilted her head to one side, sliding his tongue down the line of her neck until he reached the deep V of her T-shirt. The swell of her breasts rose as she moaned, her nipples pearling against the cotton even through her bra. Savannah arched up, her spine bowing into his touch, and Cole returned to her mouth, pressing himself over every available inch of her.
She pressed back with just as much intention. Hooking her fingers through his belt loops, Savannah thrust the cradle of her hips against his, the friction sending a raw bolt of pleasure-pain from his belly to his balls. She combined the motion of her hand with her leverage on the wall, using both to rock their lower bodies in time with the rhythm of the kiss. Fuck, she felt so much hotter and sexier and sweeter than he’d imagined the other morning in the shower, and he wanted to let loose all of his raw, right-now emotions, to drive her as crazy as she was driving him.
He didn’t just want to hear her sigh. He wanted to go the distance.
He wanted to know what she sounded like when she came.
Cole tugged his arm from behind Savannah’s body, pushing her flush against the cool stone behind her. With both hands, he lifted the hem of her T-shirt over the lean muscles of her torso. But he didn’t stop there. Pushing the garment to her shoulders, Cole revealed a plain white cotton bra, the hard peaks of her nipples clearly visible beneath the thin barrier of the fabric.
His groan was a foregone conclusion. “So hot,” he murmured. Forget all that lacy stuff. He’d always been a fool for unadorned, no-frills cotton, especially when it covered something sinfully sweet.
Savannah’s throaty laugh hinted at disbelief. She looked down at his hands, her hair tumbling forward to frame her face and cover the tops of his fingers.
“You don’t believe me?” He slid a thumb over one tightly drawn nipple, feeling her shudder all the way in the base of his own spine. But the doubt on her face lingered, and oh, he was going to enjoy proving her wrong.
“Keep your eyes wide open, Savannah. Because I’m going to show you exactly how hot you are. Right. Now.”
A quick slide of the thin straps at her shoulders freed both of Savannah’s breasts from the cotton. For a second, Cole’s pulse went haywire at the sight of her tawny-colored nipples and the perfect fit of her breasts to his palms.
He curved his fingers. Breathed in.
She watched his every movement.
Cole ran the pad of his thumb over Savannah’s bare skin, unable to keep from watching along with her. She sighed in the back of her throat, bowing her shoulders to meet more of his touch as he stroked faster, with more purpose. Although he’d thought it impossible, her nipple grew even harder under his fingers, and he sent his other hand into play along with his first.
“Oh God.” She thrust her hips, but still didn’t break her stare on his hands.
Despite the dark, impulsive burn pushing through his veins, he didn’t scale back. “See?” Cole cupped her breast with one hand, rolling her nipple between his opposite thumb and forefinger. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Savannah watched, her breath coming in short, hot bursts. He answered each one, his eyes locked on her face as hers locked on his hands. With every pass of his fingers, her gaze shuttered further, her hips pumping with growing urgency, and Cole had never wanted to make someone come so bad in his life. He dropped his mouth to the spot where her neck gave way to her shoulder, marveling at the softness of Savannah’s skin. The more he tasted, the more he wanted to let loose and let go, and he trailed his mouth lower in order to fill the need burning in his chest.
Instinct combined with impulse, both screaming at him to take, to give, to lose every inhibition he had. Yes. Fuck, yes. His cock pulsed against the soft seam of her body, her thrusts driving him even harder as he closed his mouth over her nipple. He reached for the button on her jeans, fully intent on not stopping until he was buried inside her and they were both naked and hot and screaming in release—
“You! On the fire escape. Stop where you are. Fairview Police!”
For a split second, the haze in Cole’s brain kept him from reconciling the command with reality. But then he registered Savannah’s panicked stare in the moonlight, the flurry of her movements as she replaced her clothes with two blessedly well-timed tugs, and he turned just as the harsh glare of a spotlight appeared on the wall beside them.
Holy Christ. He’d just been completely, irrevocably, painfully cock-blocked by the Fairview Police Department.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he started, but the voice cut him off before he could edge in another word.
“Security alarms are pretty straightforward. Especially the silent kind, like the one on that window next to you. Now keep your ha
nds on the railing where I can see them. Your partner, too.”
Cole squinted past the spotlight. His pulse kicked at the sight of the blue flashing strobe light beyond. He needed to fix this before it fixed him and Savannah.
Savannah, who was standing statue-still next to him. Savannah, who had made him feel every emotion in the book, good, bad, and forbidden.
Savannah, who would very likely be unraveling under his mouth right now if they hadn’t inadvertently tripped the library’s security alarm.
Had he lost his goddamn mind?
Cole snapped his composure back into place, straightening his spine to its full height.
“My name is Cole Everett, and I’m a firefighter at Station Eight. We’re not trying to break into the library. In fact, we were trying to break out.”
“Everett?” The spotlight swung slightly to the side, sparing Cole’s retinas at least momentarily. “It’s Brett O’Halloran. What the hell are you doing up there?”
He placed the name and the voice together in a whoosh of relief, thanking every deity he could think of for the citywide softball tournament that gave him connections in the FPD. Not to mention that said connection seemed none the wiser about what he’d really interrupted. “We were doing some work in the library and lost track of time. The librarian missed us before she locked up for the night, and we were just trying to get out without busting the place up.”
“Good freaking luck,” O’Halloran said with a scoff. “The doors on this building are one step past ridiculous. You good to get down on your own?”
“Yeah, we’re both firefighters.” The reminder jabbed at Cole’s conscience. He turned to look at Savannah, who—other than her flushed face and kiss-swollen lips—appeared as tough as ever.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. He knew the question was a stupid one as soon as he let it fly, and the arch of her brow confirmed it.
“Of course.” She stepped toward the building, lowering the window back into place before scooping up her bag. “Do you want to take point, or should I?”
“Go ahead.”
Cole fixed his focus on the metal rungs in front of him, keeping his peripheral vision open to the narrowly set railings on either side as they descended the fire escape with an economy of movement. Savannah passed her bag off to O’Halloran’s partner before smoothly jumping to the paved path beneath the end of the ladder, and a minute later, Cole reconnected with solid ground next to her.
“I called the security company and let them know to reset the alarm,” O’Halloran said, jutting his chin up at the library window. “Helluva thing to get locked in, huh?”
“I guess that was my fault. We were up to our eyes studying trauma responses.” Savannah held up her bag, clearly overladen with books. “I’m new at Eight, so I wanted to get a leg up. Savannah Nelson.”
“Brett O’Halloran.” The officer extended his hand. “I apologize for the gruff introduction a few minutes ago. Sometimes teenagers get a little rowdy on Friday nights and break into all sorts of places to hook up. Thought maybe that’s what we had out here.”
A renewed shot of trepidation filled Cole’s gut, but Savannah simply shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint, Officer,” she said. “Just us, hitting the books.”
After a few parting pleasantries, O’Halloran and his partner returned to their squad car, leaving Cole and Savannah alone once again in the moonlight.
“Listen, Savannah, about what happened up there—” He broke off, scrambling for order in his head, but she shocked the hell out of him by beating him to the punch.
“You know what, it’s probably best if we just forget it.” She threaded her arms over the front of her T-shirt, and although her expression was unwavering, it was also free of pretense. “We work together, and neither one of us needs the blowback. It was just a moment of weakness.”
Her words made perfect sense—Cole had been primed to say the exact same thing himself, for Chrissake. But still, he should’ve capped off his emotions before he’d ever put his mouth on her, and for that, he owed her an apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get carried away.”
A flicker of something Cole couldn’t identify rippled through her stare, gone before she replaced it with a brazen smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“It takes two, Everett. But don’t worry. From now on, we’ll stick to business as usual. I promise.”
Chapter Twelve
Savannah leaned against her locker, the press of the metal cool against her T-shirt even though she felt anything but. A day and a half had passed since she’d walked away from Cole and their totally ill-advised, totally steamy fire escape encounter, all no-harm-no-foul.
So how come—despite thirty-six hours, two cold showers, and one dozen reasons why hooking up with another firefighter was a continentally bad idea—she could still feel Cole’s mouth on her body as if he’d kissed her barely a minute ago?
And more importantly, how was she going to purge said feeling from her system when what she really wanted was for him to kiss her again?
Harder. Faster.
Lower.
Keep your eyes wide open, Savannah. Because I’m going to show you exactly how hot you are . . .
Savannah jerked her chin upward with a curse. No, she couldn’t deny that the kiss she’d shared with Cole had been pretty much the most incendiary thing on the planet. The way his voice had gone needfully rough over her plain-Jane bra and modest-at-best bust, she’d had no chance at control. But nerves of steel were the one thing Savannah needed now more than ever. Especially if she was going to prove herself as a firefighter.
She pushed off from her locker, determination filling her gut. The kiss had happened, and yes, it had curled her toes along with a few other, more delicate parts of her. But they’d agreed to forget it, and if Cole’s serious-as-usual expression as they’d parted ways on Friday night was any indication, the gaffe was already in his rearview. At the very least, she needed to put it in hers, too.
Savannah made her way through the locker room, her footsteps echoing off the tiled walls. The tail end of breakfast had been punctuated by a call for reported smoke, but Station Thirteen had beat them to the scene, which had turned out to be a false alarm anyway. They hadn’t responded to a big, active fire call since Savannah’s very first shift two weeks ago, and God, she was antsier than ever to get her hands dirty.
It would sure as hell make returning the two messages her father had left on her cell phone easier.
She pressed a smile over her face, walking a straight line to the spot where Everett stood by the doors leading out to the engine bay. “Hey. You ready to get to work?”
“Sure.” He pitched his voice to a low murmur, slanting a quick glance from one end of the hallway to the other. “Listen, before we get started, I just want to make sure we’re good. You know. After the other night.”
Savannah’s palms went damp, but still, she met his eyes. They were adults. Coworkers. No need to lose their minds over some white-hot kisses and a little dirty talk on a fire escape.
So hot . . . you’re so fucking sexy . . .
No one had ever called her sexy, let alone made her feel that way.
Good Lord, how Cole had made her feel that way.
“Of course,” she said, blotting out the naughty memory once and for all. “I told you, the job is what’s important to me.”
Everett offered a slow nod. “Yeah. Me too.”
Well, then. No time like the present. “So, ah, what’s on tap for today?”
“Obstacle course, if you’re up for it.”
Savannah opened her mouth to pop back that of course she was up for it, she was a firefighter, for the love of Pete. But then she registered the lack of disdain in his olive-green eyes along with the slight edge of teasing he’d put to the words, and wait . . . he wasn’t daring her.
He was testing her.
“Sure. Sounds fun.” She scooped her hair into a ponytail, biting back her aha smile at the su
rprise flickering across Everett’s face. She’d pay for it, she was sure. After all, the words “obstacle course” were usually synonymous with things like “hell on earth” and “day of shopping,” and that was just from her limited experience at the academy. Lord knew whatever Everett had cooked up for their real-deal drills was bound to be twice as challenging.
Which was just dandy as far as Savannah was concerned. All she needed was for someone to tell her “you can’t” in order for her to answer “watch me.”
“Okay then. Go ahead and gear up in your bunker pants, coat, and gloves,” Everett said, and she was helpless against the motion of her lips falling open.
“You do know it’s supposed to be a hundred degrees today.” It felt like a solid ninety already, and they hadn’t even officially crossed into mid-morning yet.
Everett just nodded, grabbing his own gear from the engine. “A hundred and two, actually. Oh, and don’t forget your SCBA tank.”
Great. Add another thirty pounds to the party. Still, she wasn’t about to back down in the face of a little sweat . . . or in this case, a lot. Savannah kicked out of her work boots, pulled her gear into place, and followed Everett through the rear exit of the engine bay.
A blast of heat and humidity flattened her as soon as she’d crossed the threshold to the empty lot-slash-basketball court beside the firehouse.
“Whoa,” Savannah said, the overheated air burning a path past her throat and into her lungs. “Now that is like walking into a dog’s mouth.”
Everett laughed. “I take it that’s a Texas saying.”
“That is a Duke Nelson original. My father is full of those little gems.” She caught the interest on Everett’s face just a beat too late, and damn it, nothing short of the all-call was going to snag his attention now.
No such luck on being saved by the bell. “You’re a little far from home, huh? How come you picked Fairview?”
She shrugged, taking a swipe at her brow with the back of one gloved hand. Jeez, it was hot. “Brad’s here.”
“But the rest of your family isn’t, and you were obviously raised in Texas.” He stopped in front of the twenty-foot ladder leaning against the station wall, which gave her a second to formulate a response.
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