Page 37 of The Fire Captain's Unexpected Baby
We jolt apart at the sound of the doorbell.
“Pizza,” I announce, getting up to get cash from my purse. The teenager hands over the boxes, accepts his tip, and leaves again.
Aaron joins me in the kitchen, grabbing plates like this is his home, too. He passes one to me, and we grab slices of piping hot pizza from the boxes.
“Pizza two times in two days,” he says, before taking a huge bite of pizza, cheese stringing down his chin. “We’re probably keeping that shop in business this week.”
“Got to do our part in a small town.”
“You never told me how Mr. Oakley is,” he says, steering us both back into more familiar territory.
“He went home this afternoon.” The old man had been less than enthusiastic about his departure. “He’d never admit it, but he likes being in the hospital. The fuss and the attention. He’s lonely at home.”
“You take care of him, above and beyond your job. You take care of everyone.”
“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”
We stare at the empty plates on the table, neither of us moving for more.
Aaron leans over the table, his arms drawing attention again. My fingers trace the chaotic patterns that Noah drew through the thick black lines of his tattoos. Somehow, taking care of a toddler makes him look even more manly.
“We should get you cleaned up.”
The gleam in Aaron’s eyes tells me he has already thought this exact thing. The left corner of his mouth quirks up, almost tipping into a full smile. He doesn’t hesitate to stand from the table when I do.
I put a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet, and then pull him upstairs.
Chapter Twelve
Aaron
Sneaking upstairs with Paige while Noah sleeps makes me feel like a teenager again. Any minute now, we could get caught.
The risk of interruption makes every caress even hotter. The way she grabs me by the wrist, yanking me into the large bathroom. The way she tugs my shirt over my head, running her fingers over the long tattoo that reaches down my back.
If she noticed my scar last time, she said nothing. Today, she kisses it gently.
Then, she reaches into the shower and turns on the water. It drowns out any whisper of sound between us, both of us conscious to be as quiet as possible. Steam rises as the water falls.
“There’s only one way to get you cleaned up,” she whispers.
“I’ll need some help in here,” I say, leaning down to kiss her neck.
She lets out a little yelp when my teeth bite down on the tender muscle of her neck, but she doesn’t stop me when I pull the scrub top off. She helps me out of my jeans and then my boxers.
I haul her into the shower with me, both of us enjoying the all-consuming warmth of the water. It scalds us in the best way, turning her tender belly pink with heat. The warmth elevates every touch, sensations blending into one another until I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.
“Are you going to be a good girl?” I ask quietly.
She shivers in response.
I lift her wet hair, watching how gravity tugs it down her back. The water runs in rivulets down to her ass, the perfect curve. I grab her by the ass and pull her into me. She gasps at the feel of my hard cock between her legs.
I tangle a hand in her hair and pull her head back, angling her face up toward mine. My kiss comes hot and hungry, lips moving over hers passionately. She opens her mouth to let me in, letting me trace patterns against her tongue with mine.
The kiss doesn’t stop until I feel the moan in her throat.
The sound does something to me, sending a pulse of heat through my body, stronger than before.
