Page 12 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“It’s, uh, natural.”
Oh my God. Did I actually just say that?
He chuckles. “Something like that. You wanna turn around for a sec?” He motions his finger in a circle.
“For what?”
“Because I’m naked beneath the sheet, and since I’m planning on grabbing a drink of water from the kitchen, you might get an eyeful when I do.” He bites the side of his cheek, trying to fight the arrogance in his smirk. “I couldn’t care less . . . but, uh, you might.”
“Oh, yes. Sure.”
Feeling like an idiot, I walk from his room and down the hall to mine. My mind keeps reliving the thought of him naked with his dick hardening beneath me. My body does too.
“Christ,” I murmur as I grab my robe and pull it tight around me.
It’s normal to have that simmering ache in my lower belly after straddling a man, an extremely good-looking man, right?
He’s already in the kitchen when I make my way out, T-shirt and shorts on, and a glass of amber liquid in his hands. The lines of his face etched with the unknown.
“I needed something stiffer than water. Want some?” He holds his glass out to me, and I take a sip, fighting the urge to swear when the burn hits my throat.
“That’s good for me, thanks.”
He chuckles, but it sounds absent of humor as he moves to the window and stares at the darkness I found solace in earlier. His shoulders are broad, his hair is a mess, and his bicep tenses as he brings the glass to his lips.
I debate leaving him be, giving him the peace he’s most likely used to living on his own. Yet, there is something about him that has me sinking onto the couch and watching him from afar. Maybe it’s that he looks as lost as I feel right now.
The scanner sparks to life and holds both of our attention as codes are given and 10-4s are responded.
I try to push away the riot of memories the sound brings up. The muffled sound of the dispatcher I’d hear as my mother would sit and listen to the scanner long after my brother and I had gone to bed. That and the clink of the neck of her vodka bottle as it hit the rim of her glass.
“Car accident on the outskirts of town with a passenger trapped,” he deciphers the codes for me when the radio falls silent, almost as if he’s not sure what else to say.
I close my eyes and say a silent prayer for the person trapped. When I open them, he’s standing in front of me, head angled to the side, staring. “What are you doing?”
“Saying a little prayer for the person in the car to make sure they are all right.”
He smiles softly and sits on the edge of the coffee table that faces me. “My mom used to do that when she’d hear a call on the scanner. She’d also say one for my dad’s safety. I forgot that until right now.”
“Was your dad a firefighter too?”
“A cop. Then the chief of police.”
“You didn’
t want to follow in his footsteps?”
“For a while, but my oldest brother ended up going that route, and I ended up falling in love with fire.” His eyes darken some, and I’m reminded of the nightmare he’s just woken from and wonder if it has anything to do with his work.
“Your nightmare . . .”
“Nothing big really. Just a reminder to keep me on my toes when I’m at work.”
“You said you have it often,” I say, curious if he’ll tell me more.
“It’s late.” He shoves up from his seat and moves around the back of the couch toward the hallway. “Thank you for trying to help, but I need to get some sleep.” I freeze when he places a kiss to the top of my head. It’s unexpected. It’s sweet. It makes me want to snuggle into the couch and stay right here with him.
“Good night,” I murmur, unable to think of anything else to say.
