Page 26 of The Fire Captain's Unexpected Baby
“Not a bad idea, Paige.” Levi approaches us, a wicked smile on his face. “It’s about time you learned the basics, and heaven knows I couldn’t teach you.”
I put my head in my hands, feeling like a lost cause.
“Listen, it’s the last call. The guys radioed over that shift change already happened while we were gone.” Levi looks pointedly at the two of us. “I’ll take Noah with me. I promised the kids we’d go to the park.”
“That’s really not—” I start to protest.
“Let me just go inside and get him ready.” He doesn’t wait for permission to swing Noah into his arms and brush past me inside.
“The whole family has the same damn trait,” I mutter under my breath, thinking of the way my mom left the night of the wedding.
Everyone seems keen to give Aaron and me privacy. I’m not sure we can be trusted with it. Not when my body feels like it is being pulled into his orbit. Not when I can barely keep my hands off him, especially in that uniform.
“And what trait is that?” Aaron asks, playfully tucking a strand of loose hair back into my bun.
“We don’t know how to be discreet.” I blush, thinking about what my family wants to set us up to do.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he assures me. “We can call Levi back right now and tell him to chaperone us, if that’s what you want.”
I shake my head. As much as being with Aaron makes me feel nervous, Idowant to be with him. I do want to see where this could go. It’s just that fifteen years have passed since I was with someone new.
Fifteen years.
Levi charges out the door with the overloaded backpack and a change of clothes for Noah.
“Come get him later,” he says, putting him in the car seat in the back of the SUV. “I’ll take this back to the station and then head home to take the kids to the park.”
And then, Aaron and I are left alone.
He takes me by the hand and gently leads me into the kitchen. Without a word, he rummages through the cabinets until he finds a pan that is still usable, if a little scratched and burned. He sets it on the burner to heat.
“The trick is to get the pan hot before you start,” he murmurs, positioning me in front of the stove. He keeps his hands on my hips, keeping me from moving out of the way.
He checks the batter in the bowl beside the stovetop, stirring it with a flick of one wrist.
“Nice and smooth,” he comments. “You followed the recipe on the back of the box.”
“I’m not totally incompetent,” I protest, but the words die on my lips when his mouth finds the sensitive part of my neck. He nips once, then turns his attention back to the batter.
He places one hand over the pan, testing the heat. Satisfied, he hands me the can of butter spray.
“Keep the pan slick with this butter. You wouldn’t want your pancakes to stick.” He guides my hand over the pan, making sure that it’s all coated in butter.
Every word coming out of his mouth feels suggestive. It feels like a storm is gathering inside of me and the clouds are about to burst. If it takes too much longer to pull a decent pancake off this griddle, I won’t make it.
He pours a perfect circle of batter in the middle of the pan. “Now, we wait until the batter bubbles.”
His hand finds the expanse of ticklish skin under the hem of my shirt, tracing lazy patterns on it. Each brush of his fingertips causes sparks to explode behind my eyes. All I can feel is the wetness between my legs, the burning desire for him to run his fingertips lower.
Aaron must sense what he’s doing to me because he dips one finger beneath the waistband of my unicorn pajamas, just enough to tug the waistband of my silk panties. My back arches into him, but he pulls away.
“Time to flip the pancake,” he murmurs.
“The pancake,” I manage, gasping for air.
I watch the pancake turn golden brown, an alchemy I never managed on my own and likely never will. Aaron watches me with more rapt attention than I thought possible.
“Screw the pancake,” he mutters, before flipping it onto a nearby plate and turning the burner off.
