Page 78 of When the Smoke Clears

I know his firehouse has been busy helping with nearby wildfires, so I wonder how much sleep he’s had since Thursday night. Doesn’t look like much.

“What can I help you do? Pack? Laundry?”

Will untucks his blue T-shirt and then runs his hands through his hair. “Sleep,” he says through an enormous yawn.

“You need something to help you sleep?”

After his yawn, he drops his hands limp at his sides, and he stares at my feet, working his gaze up to my face. It’s almost tangible, eliciting goose bumps along my arms. The release of oxytocin makes my smooth muscles contract, hardening my nipples. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Does his brain, like mine, take mental notes of his physiological response to seeing me?

“I need”—he slowly shakes his head—“something.”

I rub my lips together and swallow. “A shower?”

After a moment, he shakes his head again.

I crack my knuckles, then reach for my pockets, a place to hide my fidgety hands. But my Lululemon Hotty Hot high-rise shorts have zipper pockets, and there’s no way to casually unzip them with one hand.

What do I say? The silence is liquefying me. Before long, I’ll be nothing more than a puddle on the floor that he’ll step over on his way to bed.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom with me?” I cringe as soon as the words pass my lips. That sounds awful, and the tightness of Will’s brow confirms it.

I’m not a genius with Will. I’m just a blubbering, lust-crazed girl with a crush on someone who feels out of my league.

“I know you’re not a stranger, but I’d lose my panties for you.”

A slow grin steals across his face, and my cheeks burn with a heavy mix of desire and embarrassment. I couldn’t channel Dr. Reichart if my life depended on it.

“Is that so?” He takes a step closer to me.

I hold my breath and nod, unblinking gaze locked with his.

“Are you even wearing panties?”

Of course I’m wearing panties. Who wears jogging shorts without them?

Before those thoughts form into spoken words, he leans forward and brushes his lips along my neck while his fingers tease my inner thigh for a second. In the next breath, two of his fingers trace the leg of my cotton underwear as if he needs confirmation. He teases my earlobe with his teeth, and his two fingers hook into my panties’ crotch, pulling them aside.

Am I wet? Embarrassingly so.

A harsh breath catches in my throat when he drives those fingers up inside of me. My nails curl into his biceps as I steady myself when my knees try to buckle.

“My tongue is jealous of my fingers, Dr. Reichart,” he whispers in my ear. “What should we do about that?”

Click.

The back door opens, and I jump away so quickly, I nearly lose my balance while fixing my underwear and then crossing my arms over my chest to hide my nipple/no bra/tight shirt situation.

“You’re moving?” Maren asks, barging into the kitchen, shaking her head like it’s not possible. She drops her purse to the floor and straightens her gray Grizzlies T-shirt over her white leggings.

Thankfully, she’s focused on Will instead of me. What just happened is obvious on my face, like a flashing red light.

Will lifts his wet fingers to his mouth, and my eyes widen as he wipes them over his lips before licking said lips.

Oh my god . . .

“My dad has stage four cancer. He’s not treating it. So, yeah, Mare, I’m moving to Somers to be with him and my mom.”

Tears fill her eyes as she covers her mouth. I can’t stop gawking at Will’s lips. Again he curls them over his teeth, tongue making another swipe across them.