I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra. The straps slid down my shoulders, and I let them drop, baring my breasts to the flickering light of the fire. His gaze dipped, finally breaking from my eyes, and the way he looked at me—like I was something sacred and sinful all at once—sent a rush of heat through me that had nothing to do with the flames.
My fingers trembled as I hooked them into the waistband of my leggings. I pushed them down, along with my panties, in one slow motion, stepping out of them until I stood completely naked before him.
The air was cool against my skin, but his stare burned. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just drank me in as if I were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. As if I were the only one.
“Come here,” he said at last, his voice hoarse, rough with restraint.
My feet moved before my mind caught up, closing the small distance between us until I stood between his parted knees. He sat forward on the couch, his large hands settling on my hips, thumbs brushing the curve of my waist like he was memorizing me.
“Part your legs, Meghan.”
The command was low, undeniable. I obeyed, widening my stance, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
He shifted closer, his broad shoulders easing between my thighs for better access. His lips started at my knee, warm anddeliberate, kissing a slow path upward—soft presses that turned into open-mouthed tastes, his breath hot against my skin. I shivered, not from cold, but from the anticipation coiling tighter with every inch he claimed.
When he reached the apex, he paused, looking up at me with eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the firelight. Then he slid one thick finger inside me, slow and sure, and I gasped at the unfamiliar stretch, the perfect fullness.
He watched my face as he began to move, curling that finger just right, and then—oh god—his tongue swept over my clit in a deliberate stroke.
My head fell back, a low moan escaping my lips as pleasure sparked through every nerve. I savored it, the wet heat of his mouth, the steady rhythm of his finger, the way he knew exactly how to tease and soothe and build. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel him watching me—intense, possessive, like he wanted to memorize every reaction.
My hands moved without thought, lifting to cup my breasts. The weight of them felt different under my own touch, sensitive and heavy. I brushed my thumbs over my nipples, circling the tight peaks, and a fresh wave of heat flooded me.
Why had I never done this before? It felt so good—electric, almost forbidden. But maybe it only felt this good because of him, because of what he was doing to me down there, his tongue relentless now, flicking and swirling as his finger thrust deeper.
The dual sensations built fast, overwhelming me. My legs started to tremble, and I had to drop my hands to his shoulders, gripping the hard muscles for balance as he curled his finger again—hitting a spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. Pleasure I didn’t even know existed ignited, sharp and sweet and all-consuming.
I came with a cry that echoed off the walls, my body clenching around his finger, my knees threatening to bucklebeneath me. He held me steady through it, his mouth gentle now, drawing out every last shudder until I was boneless and breathless.
Slowly, I stepped back, my chest heaving, the fire’s glow painting us both in gold and shadow. His eyes met mine, dark and hungry, lips glistening.
“What do we do next?” I whispered.
4
WOLFE
Icouldn’t speak.
Words had never been my strong suit—people back at the station called me the quiet one, the guy who let actions do the talking—but this was different. This silence wasn’t my usual armor. It was the kind that came from being utterly undone, staring at the woman in front of me like she’d rewritten everything I thought I knew about want, about need.
Meghan stood there, flushed and glowing in the firelight, her lips parted as she waited for my answer. Her question hung in the air, soft and breathless.
What do we do next?
I swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “What do you want to do, Meghan?”
Her eyes dropped for a moment, then lifted back to mine, bold despite the innocence shining through. “I want to see you naked.”
Simple. Direct. It hit me like a punch to the chest. I reached for the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head in one motion, tossing it aside. The fire’s warmth licked across my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in her gaze as she tookin my chest, the scars from old calls, the muscle earned from hauling hose lines and breaking down doors.
I stood, my hands going to my belt. I undid it slowly, then the button, the zipper. Pants and boxer briefs came down together, kicked off with my shoes until I was as bare as she was. My cock was painfully hard, straining toward her, and her eyes locked on it—wide, curious, hungry. She couldn’t look away, and damn if that didn’t make me throb even more.
“Can I…” She stepped closer, her voice a whisper. “Can I touch you?”
I nodded, speechless again.
Her hand wrapped around me tentatively, fingers cool and soft against the heat. Her grip was clumsy—uncertain strokes, a little too light at first, then firmer as she explored.
