I break speed records taking a shower and getting dressed, pulling on the first thing I grab out of my overnight bag. Jean shorts and a halter top. I toss my purse over my shoulder and run from the apartment in ratty sandals, skidding to a stop on the sidewalk. Where am I going to go? Not the scene of the fire, right?
No, if I go to the fire, I could be a distraction for Nick and Zeke. One that could get them hurt. I’ll go to the firehouse. There must be someone who stays behind and they’ll have news about Nick and Zeke’s welfare. I’ll just hang out until I know they’re all right, then I’ll book it back to the apartment.
They’ll never know I was gone.
My Uber pulls up a minute later and I make it to the firehouse in no time, my sandals slapping on the pavement as I run to the door, stepping inside—
Crap.
At least a dozen firemen look up from their task of undressing, their eyes spearing me with curiosity. In some cases. In others, it’s outright appreciation, their interest sliding down to settle on the hem of my shorts.
“Um…oh. I didn’t expect…” I swallow hard and adjust my purse. “Can someone tell me if Nick and Zeke are here?”
They exchange glances.
“You don’t need them when you’ve got us.”
“You here to give us a hero’s welcome, darlin’? We’ve got us a nice little break before we’re due back at the scene.”
“How do you know Nick and Zeke, anyway?”
“I…” I back toward the door as a few of the men come toward me, rubbing their hands together and looking me over like I’m their next meal. “They’re my friends.” Panic creeps into my throat. “Why aren’t they here? Are they hurt?”
The men stop walking, one of them sighing loudly. “Zeke took a hit on the shoulder. Ceiling beam. Went to get patched up, but his cocky ass will be fine.”
“And Nick?”
“I’m right here.”
I whirl around and find a murderous Nick watching the men behind me with a dangerous tic in his jaw. I’m so happy to see him in one piece, though, I jump without thinking, leaping into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. “I was so worried,” I whisper in his ear. “Please don’t be mad.”
His considerable muscles remain bunched. “You disobeyed me, sweetheart,” he murmurs back, settling a possessive hand on my bottom, cupping and stroking it. “We’re going to have a long talk about this.”
It only occurs to me now that the other fireman might recognize me from the night I was rescued, but none of them seem to notice. I’m not surprised, though, considering Nick and Zeke stayed huddled around me like protective cavemen the whole time. “They said Zeke is hurt,” I say with a catch in my voice.
“I’m fine, baby,” says the man in question, appearing in the doorway. There’s a bandage wrapped around his shoulder and some dime-sized burns along the side of his gorgeous face, but otherwise he’s as solid and healthy as usual. “Or I was until I saw these motherfuckers checking out what’s ours,” Zeke mutters for our ears alone, circling around to block me from their view. “It’s getting old real fast.”
“Well, shit. Which one of you does she belong to?” one of the men calls. “Maybe he can be persuaded to share. She is sweet.”
Nick goes from tense to bristling beneath me, and Zeke’s energy is much the same. “I guess this is why I should have stayed home,” I whisper, trying to appear contrite and defuse the situation. Nick doesn’t notice, though, because he’s too busy communicating to the other men in the room that I’m off limits. But I hear their footsteps coming closer and I know they’re not taking the hint.
Truth be told, it ticks me off a little.
Acting on instinct, I hike myself higher on Nick’s body and fuse our mouths together, sliding my tongue into his mouth shyly, the way I’ve started to sense he likes. There’s only a couple seconds of stubborn resistance before Nick kisses me back, his resistance crumbling in the form of a broken growl. The big hand on my backside moves me up and down on his erection, his mouth chastising me for not listening with occasional nips of my bottom lip between his teeth. The seam of my shorts grows damp, my flesh eager to please Daddy. But he’s not the only one I’m called to pleasure.
I come up for air and twist in Nick’s grip, holding my arms out for Zeke. Nick passes me to the other man, who’s able to cradle me despite his injured shoulder, my thighs cinching around his rangy hips. Our kiss ignites like a powder keg, volatile and urgent. Zeke bruises my mouth, giving me no quarter. Branding me. Sweeping his tongue deep, tasting me with brutal hunger.