Claimed By The Possessive Fireman - Flora Ferrari Page 0,26

later, I wake to the scent of Lilah pushed right up against me, her body molded to mine like it was sculpted to melt into me.

I bury my face in her hair and breathe deeply, smelling our sex from the night before, mixing with her shampoo and the tangy sweetness of her body’s smell.

I grind my manhood against her ass, concealed sweetly in the short pajama bottoms, tempting slices of flesh urging me to open my eyes and throw the sheets away, revealing the beauty of her thick thighs.

My mind flits to vivid images of grabbing them, squeezing her flesh, making her moan as her skin goose pimples and she lets out shivering sighs.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” Lilah sighs, rolling over and facing me.

I open my eyes and look into her face, that same O shape of her mouth, only now it’s not pleasure.

Anxiety ripples through her features, the same anxiety that twists uncomfortably in my belly.

I wish I could freeze time in this moment, or turn it back so that we could relive these peaceful three days over and over. Mark receded into the background, not wanting to speak to us, so in between Lilah’s line readings and my fireman shifts, we just fell into bed together.

We lost ourselves in the steamy closeness of each other’s bodies, exploring every inch over and over.

Or we’ll go to restaurants and watch movies, her laughter like the sweetest balm after the longest, hottest day.

The only thing dangling between us is Mark, his disapproval like a sour aftertaste following a perfect meal.

“It’s today, right?” she says. “I didn’t dream it?”

I sigh, moving closer to her, my shirtless torso grinding against her and my heartbeat immediately picking like an axe against a burning building, trying to break free, trying to tell her the fiery truth.

“It’s today,” I murmur. “In about an hour, actually.”

Last night, Mark texted me telling me he wanted to meet at the beach, near this wrecked hut we used to play in as kids. The hut has been replaced with a waterside restaurant now, and every so often we’ll go and eat there together, reminiscing about old times, laughing about how far we’ve come.

We’ll talk about how his family took me in after mine died in an electrical fire, how his parents were like guardians to me for four years, before I went off to join the fire service.

I think about two nights ago, quietly recounting the exact way my parents died to Lilah.

She held me close, tears in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry you had to live through that,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” I told her, stroking my hand down the back of her neck. “I have you now. And soon, we’ll have a house full of laughter and children.”

But now, there’s no putting this off.

I roll away and climb out of bed, knowing that if I don’t, the temptation to just leap on Lilah and take her again and again will be too overwhelming.

“I should go if I want to make it,” I say.

“I can’t believe he specifically asked to see you alone,” she murmurs. “I’m so freaking nervous right now.”

“Me too,” I admit, pulling on a shirt and slowly buttoning it. “But it’s going to be okay, Lilah. I promise.”

She rises from the bed and walks over to me, the tight-fitting tank top combined with the shorts making her look curvaceous in the extreme, her ass an hour-glass bump that drives me feral.

“How do you know?” she whispers.

I grab her hips and pull her close, moving my mouth down to hers, tasting her sweetness.

“Because it has to be,” I growl, kissing her again.

I find Mark where I always find him in La Vista, leaning against the bar in his plaid shirt and his faded blue jeans, sipping a beer straight from the bottle and staring up at the corner-mounted TV.

I walk up next to him, glancing at the game and gesturing to the barman, who knows me. He starts pouring me a soda and brings it over.

“Wanna get a table?” he says quietly.

“Sure,” I say. “Don’t see why not.”

We get our usual table in the upper corner, lending us a view of the Miami Sea, glittering in the morning blaze. The restaurant is mostly empty except for a few older folks enjoying breakfast and a cup of coffee.

Mark sips his beer again.

“I know, I know,” he says, squinting out at the horizon. “It’s early for beer.”

“I’m not judging.”

“It’s just that sort of conversation, you know?”

My lips twitch into a smirk.