The Firefighter's Secret Obsession: Secret Alpha Billionaire Romance: Bronx (Rosesson Brothers Book 3)

by Lisa Ladew

  But what she did next made him forget all about all of it.

  Her right hand slid around to his front and she grasped his cock. "Accident, long time ago," she murmured, tugging on him. "I want you inside me," she said, her voice more forceful. He was not going to say no to that.

  "Yes ma'am," he panted, then moved to the side of the bed. "Let me get a condom."

  He pulled his pants from the floor and dug into the left front pocket remembering when he'd shoved two in there earlier in the day, wanting to be prepared but telling himself not to get too hopeful. Now he wished he'd brought the whole fucking box.

  Back on the bed, condom sorted, he paused in between her legs and watched her. Her hands came up and grasped his upper arms, pulling him to her. He bent his elbows, melding their bodies together as he kissed her. She bent one leg and angled her body, urging him in. He loved it, loved all of it, anticipation tingling through him at the thought of her wanting this as much as he did.

  His cock slid into the cleft between her legs easily, her warmth and wetness opening to him immediately. He pushed forward a bit and closed his eyes against the sensation of dragging sweetness, wanting to remember everything about it. Their first time. He was so hooked on her he hoped to fuck her at least ten thousand times more, hoped to do more than that. Hoped to live with her, build a life with her, make love to her, fuck her, love her, give her babies, help her raise them, and die in each other's arms at the end of a long and fulfilled life.

  He was such a fucking sap, he knew that. But she was perfect for him, and he wasn't going to lie to himself about that. But just in case. Just in case all he ever got was this moment, he was going to remember it. He pushed in slowly, savoring all of it. She fit him snugly, her body clenching on him, drawing him in. "God, Emerald," he choked out. "You feel so good to me."

  He bit back anything else that might be in there wanting to get out and focused on what he was doing, using his body to show her exactly how he felt about her.

  Chapter 32

  Eme

  Eme woke up slowly, her body curled into Bronx's as they lay together in her bed, and in the strong light of the day she found the fears she'd ignored the night before sat heavy on her chest, poking small fingers under her eyelids, forcing her to look at them.

  She disentangled herself from strong, warm man and put her hands to her forehead. What had she been thinking? Sure, she cared about him, and yes, the sex had been amazing, but was it all worth the danger it brought with it? What if they got close enough that he could see the holes in her story? What if she had to tell him the truth, or at least some portion of it? What if something slipped? What would he think? Say? Do?

  She was in America illegally. She'd faked her own death and bought a new name. If someone looked too closely at the fictitious past she'd created with a German fire department, it would all unravel and show that she'd never worked there, or even lived in the country. She'd taken all the training and done all the things on her resume, but under a different name, in a different country. Even if Bronx understood why she'd lied, the SFFD never would. She'd be fired for sure. Deported, maybe. Prison, possibly. And if Dusan ever discovered she was still alive? She wouldn't be for long. He'd told her once that if she ever left him, he would hunt her down and kill her mother in front of her before killing her.

  Eme lurched in the bed at the thought of her mother and a soft moan came out of her mouth. Beside her, Bronx stirred, then rolled over and put his arm around her. His touch soothed her immediately. It was hard for her to imagine Dusan hurting her when this good man was touching her. Something about Bronx made her think he would never let that happen.

  He rocked his hips against her and she felt his hard cock against her thigh. Arousal filled her, pushing out the thoughts she'd been focusing on. The night before, he'd pumped into her for a good hour, varying speed and rhythm, whispering the sweetest things she'd ever heard into her ear, giving her three more orgasms, though none of them had quite compared to the one where she'd lost her mind and that scream had bubbled up out of her. She was quite sure she could get him to put his mouth on her again, though. All she had to do was ask, she knew that deep in her bones.

  She felt her legs scissor together in wanting and decided she could lay her worries aside again, at least for the day.

  She relaxed into him, then put a hand between them, touching the place where he was so hard. "Mmmm, what's this?"

  "It ain't a banana," he growled, "But it would love for you to have it for breakfast."

  Her lips curled over her teeth in a smile. He groaned and arched backwards when she palmed him. "You got anymore condoms?"

  "Only one," he said, his face grave. His hair was deliciously tousled making her lick her lips.

  "One's all we need," she said, putting a finger to his chin where plenty of scruff had grown in overnight.

  He leaned over the bed and retrieved another condom, then rolled it over his hard erection. She watched as he completed the task with utter proficiency, and for the first time she wondered about his former girlfriends. How many he'd had. What had become of them.

  He propped himself up on his arms above her, then bent his elbows and nuzzled her neck. "How do you like your morning sex?" he whispered in her ear.

  "However you do," she whispered back.

  With that, he latched onto one of her breasts with his soft mouth and pushed inside her, slowly, inexorably, making her gasp with pleasure as the morning sunlight streamed in her window and coated them both.

  ***

  Eme stood at the stove, dressed in Bronx's shirt from the night before. The move had been calculated on her part. If she was wearing it, he couldn't. He had on his pants only and was sitting at her tiny kitchen table looking like a whole lot of sexy man yumminess, his feet and chest bare, his face dark with a day's growth. Her eyes followed his tangled chest hair down to his belly, where it narrowed into a tight trail and disappeared below his waistband. God, even now, she wanted him. Even after she'd just had him.

  "How do you like your eggs?" she asked, her head lowered over the stove, expecting a simple answer.

  She heard his phone thunk onto the table. "What day do eggs hate most?"

  She thought for a second but before she could come up with the answer he spit it out. "Fry-day."

  She smiled and shook her head. "Over easy then?"

  "Perfect."

  She flipped one egg then turned to speak to him. "There's fruit in the fridge. Bacon too. Sausage too. Get out whatever you want and bring it to me. Except the fruit, you can prepare that yourself."

  She stiffened slightly, waiting to see his answer, feeling like an asshole the whole time. How many more tests did he have to pass before she admitted to herself that he would never yank her head backwards by her hair and mutter threats into her face just because she broke his yolk or didn't move fast enough.

  Bronx stood and walked to the fridge, giving her a sexy smile as he went by her. She blew out a breath and turned back to the eggs.

  Five minutes later they both sat at the table, a plate of food in front of them. Eme twirled her fork and looked at Bronx. He picked up his utensil, brought it to his mouth with no food on it, then dipped it to his plate. Eme looked at him askance. She'd seen him do that before. Was there a story behind it? Or just a quirk? Which made her think of something else. "So you never told me last Friday was your birthday."

  He grunted. "Oh. Yeah. I guess I didn't think of it. I was having fun."

  "You didn't have any plans?"

  He dropped his head and smiled sheepishly at her under his lashes. "My brothers were going to take me out. I cancelled."

  "Oh! Bronx, I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. I'll reschedule with them. I wanted to go out with you more."

  Eme smiled and ate a piece of sausage. His words made her feel like climbing on his lap and kissing him, or maybe wrapping her hands around his ... She shook her head to clear it. How much sex could two people have in one day? If he was stick
ing around, that was. She had no plans, but they hadn't talked about it.

  "So how old are you?" she asked.

  "Twenty-seven. You?"

  She smiled. "Twenty-eight."

  He waggled his eyebrows. "Cougar."

  "What! I'm a year older, how could I be a—?" Bronx stopped her words by leaning over the table and kissing her full on the lips. Getting her motor revving even more. Trouble. She'd known it a long time ago. He smiled as he pulled away and sat back down, leaving her needing a breather.

  Bronx got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. Idly, she watched his back muscles flex as he bent over the counter. How long would it be before his body failed to captivate her every time he was in her presence? Ever?

  "You want any coffee?" he asked, his back still turned.

  "Just now," she said, not paying attention, her mind on the private Chippendale's extravaganza in front of her, but she never liked to have her coffee until her breakfast digested a bit.

  The man-show went on for another minute and then he turned with two cups and put one in front of her.

  "Oh thanks, I didn't want one," she said, pushing it away.

  He sat down in his chair and looked at her over his cup, his eyebrows up. "Change your mind?"

  Eme flushed, realizing her mistake. Her hands flew to her necklace and worried it. She was so comfortable with him she hadn't even realized what she was saying. Just now. Fuck, she had to be more on her toes. "It's ah, slang," she said. "It means later."

  He smiled and sat back in his chair. "Irish or German?"

  Eme groaned internally. Neither. She leaned forward and thought fast. "So we're out of condoms?" she asked in a teasing voice.

  He arched one sexy eyebrow and put his coffee down on the table. "Yeah. Tragedy. You don't have any?"

  Eme laughed, even as she mentally berated herself for using sex as a distraction. "Ah. No."

  "There a store nearby?"

  "Yeah, on the corner."

  "You want me to go? I should go." He shoved three more bites of food in his mouth and stood, turning his body, but not before Eme saw the hard length in his pants. Wow. He was worse than she was. Or better.

  He stepped to her door and put his hand on the knob. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

  "Bronx," she called. "Your shirt." She stood and took it off and Bronx's upper body collapsed as she stood naked before him.

  "Damn, girl," he whispered, looking from her hair to her toes several times. "How do you expect me to leave now?"

  Chapter 33

  Bronx

  Bronx clapped his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm. He looked at it. Five a.m. Perfect. He dragged himself out of Eme's bed slowly, trying not to wake her with his movement, and looked down at her sleeping form. Her hair curled over her forehead and down her back. One hand was tucked under her cheek and the other rested on the pillow. He could see the swell of one breast peeking above the blanket she slept under and he lingered on it, not wanting to leave.

  But he had to. He had work. He felt his cock swell in his boxers and shot his eyes to the left, away from her. He couldn't look at her without remembering the dozen or so times they'd had sex in the last two days. Without wanting a replay or two. But life had built-in limits. He picked up his clothes off the floor and dressed slowly, then left her a note and tiptoed out the door, locking the knob from the inside before he pulled it shut.

  As he drove to work his mind played over all of the last two days. The fucking. The laughing. The conversations. The chill. How comfortable and happy he felt with her. How he'd never wanted to go home. They hadn't left the apartment, except when he'd gone out to get condoms, and once yesterday to move his truck. The city rule was seventy-two hours, but he was in the habit of moving his every forty-eight, just to be safe. He'd managed to find a spot right in front of her building, so even better.

  He'd gotten to know her so much better and he loved everything he'd learned. He smiled as he thought of her mannerisms. The lilt in her speech, the way he could always tell if she was unsettled by how her hands went to her necklace.

  He'd asked her about it, that rough stone that was always around her neck and shared a name with her. She'd said it had special meaning to her. She'd found it in a rock on the same day that she'd decided to come to America. Her hands had twisted around the necklace as she'd told him the story haltingly, and he'd sensed there'd been more behind it than she'd wanted to share right then, but he would never push her. He hated to see her uncomfortable. They had plenty of time to learn each other's stories.

  She'd said she'd fallen though, and been injured, but didn't say how, instead dropping her hands to his lap and playing with what she found there. He pushed a hand against his own neck and wondered if that was how she'd gotten the scar. She never had explained that one.

  As Bronx drove closer to Station 66, his mood darkened slightly. Would Isaacs be there? Had there been any fallout yet? He hadn't heard anything from work, but he'd texted the entire story to Knox and asked for his advice. Knox had told him to get it on record with their lawyer, which Bronx had done with a phone call, and would finalize in person on Monday. Mentally, he began to prepare himself for the cold shoulder, and even outright hostility if Isaacs showed up.

  Ten minutes later, he walked into the station unable to wipe the grin from his face. He felt nervous about a showdown with Isaacs and what it would mean to his career, but he'd still had the best weekend of his life with a beautiful, interesting woman who had draped her body over his as they fell asleep together and whispered, "Text me tomorrow. I'm going to miss you."

  Captain Wade was in the kitchen, sitting at the table. "Morning," Bronx said, straightening the uniform he'd pulled out of his locker and put on.

  Wade grunted, deep in his coffee. Bronx grabbed a broom and started his routine, feeling light and satisfied, even in the face of Wade's grumpiness.

  Jeanette came in and grabbed her own cup, then Curry's replacement followed. No one talked to Bronx, and though it stung, he wasn't surprised. That magazine had been damning. Whatever. They would get over it.

  A call came in and they all scrambled on the truck, Bronx missing Curry. They put a blazing Coke machine in front of a convenience store out, and the foam they used made Bronx think of Eme. When they got back to the station and finished cleanup, he looked at the time. 10:10 on a Sunday morning. She should be up already.

  He retired to the weight room and sat on a bench in private to send his text.

  Hey, lazybones. Miss me yet?

  Bronx stared at his phone for several minutes, but no text came in. Maybe he'd worn her out more than he'd thought. He pocketed his phone and tried to decide what to do. Work out? Maybe. There normally wasn't training or other duties on Sundays.

  He changed his clothes and got down to it, but was interrupted three times for calls, which was a relief. It made the day go faster. By the time he wandered into the kitchen for dinner, he realized he must have missed her text back and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he sat down at the table.

  Only the text he had sent that morning stared back at him.

  Bronx frowned. It was five in the evening. She had to be up by now.

  Eme, you there?

  No response.

  Bronx pressed a button and lifted the phone to his ear to hear the ringing. After seven rings her voicemail answered. He hung up and stared hard at his phone like it could answer the question that was roaring through his mind.

  Was she in trouble somehow?

  Bronx thought hard as the people he worked with basically ignored him, even though a plate of food was shoved in front of him. He didn't see it or smell it. His mind was entirely elsewhere.

  He ran through what he knew about her. Did she have another phone in her apartment? No. He hadn't seen one, so he didn't think so. Had she been friendly with any of the neighbors? Again, he got the feeling that she hadn't been, but he wasn't positive. Family or friends? Any she might have gone out with, left her
phone at home? He had no clue.

  He put a hand to his temple. So what the actual crispy-fried fuck did he know about her? She was hot in the ever-fucking sack? She moved here from Germany? She laughed at his jokes occasionally. Jesus Christ, meathead, did you ask her one fucking question about herself?

  Bronx shook his head, stopping his internal criticism that had his father's voice. He had asked her questions. But she'd neatly side-stepped most of them. Some of them she'd flat out ignored. He'd been willing to let it all go and not even call it strange, especially when her mouth closed around his—

  Fuck, was she dating someone else? No, that didn't make any sense to him. His head started to pound as a conviction gripped him. She was in trouble. Her secrecy had nothing to do with him, but it was hiding something dangerous. To her.

  He gripped his phone hard and sent a text to Knox.

  I need a favor. You got a few minutes to head to the tenderloin?

  It took ten minutes to get an answer back, but Bronx had already dumped his food in the trash and took up pacing the open bay next to the truck.

  I'm in Oregon on an overnight, chasing a lead in the hacker mess. Daxton too. Try Talon. He's on duty.

  Fuck. He didn't even give a shit about the lead. All he could think about was Eme. He tried Talon.

  Dude, I need a favor. Check on my girlfriend in the tenderloin? I'm stuck at work.

  He stared at that word girlfriend while he waited for an answer. God, he wanted it to be true. He hadn't asked her, but he would the second he found out she was ok. Send her a pizza tonight and have the delivery guy write Will you be my girlfriend? Or is this too cheesy? on the inside of the box.

  Address?

  Bronx blew out a sigh of relief and sent the numbers. A reply came back immediately.