Chapter 35
JOY
Iwas out of my car before Cooper had even turned off his engine.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched him climb out of his truck.
He looked exhausted, shoulders heavy with the weight of whatever he’d just dealt with, his uniform streaked with soot and grime.
But he was whole, he was safe, and the relief that flooded through me was almost overwhelming.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice rougher than usual as he approached.
“Hey yourself.” I reached up to touch his face. My fingers traced the line of his cheek where a black mark streaked the firm jawline. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”
“Just a turkey fryer fire. Nothing too bad.”
There was something in his eyes that suggested it was more complicated than he was letting on. I didn’t push. Instead, I took his hand and led him toward the house. “Come on. Let me take care of you.”
“I’m okay,” he said with a laugh. “I normally would clean up before I came home but you said—”
“I’m glad you came straight home,” I said. “Am I being dramatic? This is probably dumb, right? It’s the first actual fire you’ve been on since I’ve been back and I just—”
“Come on,” he said.
I felt like a koala on his back. I didn’t know why, but I had actually been afraid. I had let my imagination run away and imagined the many different ways he could have been hurt.
“Want a beer?” he asked as he walked to the kitchen.
“Please.” Truthfully, I wanted a bourbon. And a scotch. And then maybe a beer. Yes, it was a song, but it felt very accurate.
I took a long sip of my beer, watching Cooper over the rim of the bottle. He was standing at the kitchen counter, still in his dirty uniform, staring down at his beer. The silence stretched between us, heavy with whatever he wasn’t saying.
“So,” I said finally, unable to take the quiet anymore. “Tell me about the fire.”
He looked up, seeming to shake himself out of whatever thoughts were consuming him. “Like I said, turkey fryer fire. Someone tried to deep fry a frozen turkey, oil overheated, created a fireball.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No. Just property damage. The house was fine.” His voice was matter of fact, professional. It was the same tone he used when he was explaining safety protocols at festival meetings.
I studied his face, looking for clues about what was really bothering him. There was something he wasn’t telling me. I could see it in the careful way he was choosing his words, the tension in his shoulders that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.
“That’s good,” I said carefully. “That no one was hurt, I mean.”
“Yeah.” He took another sip of beer, then set the bottle down and ran a hand through his hair. “I need a shower.”
I could hear the exhaustion in every syllable. “I know. Let me help.”
He looked at me with surprise. I realized he wasn’t used to being taken care of. The thought made my chest ache.
In his bathroom, I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature while he finished undressing. When I started to pull off my own clothes, he watched with something deeper than desire. It was wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe I wanted to be here with him.
Under the spray of hot water, I took my time washing the smoke and ash from his hair, my fingers working through the sandy strands. I used my fingertips to massage his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. I could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders.
“Better?” I asked, reaching for the soap.
“Much.” His voice was soft, almost reverent.
I washed his body with the same careful attention, my hands moving over the strong planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders.
It wasn’t about arousal, though that was always simmering between us.
It was about connection, about showing him that he mattered, that his safety mattered to me.
When I was satisfied that I’d washed away every trace of the call, he took the soap from my hands and returned the favor. His touch was equally gentle. Equally reverent. My big strong fireman was a big marshmallow.
“Thank you,” he said against my temple, his arms wrapping around me under the warm spray.
“For what?”
“For being here. For caring enough to worry.” His voice caught slightly. “I’m not used to that.”
The admission broke something open in my chest. I turned in his arms and kissed him, pouring all my feelings into the contact. I showed him my relief that he was safe while trying to hide my growing love for this complicated man.
His mouth on mine was filled with a hunger that was about so much more than physical need. It was about connection, about the recognition of something precious building between us.
We made it to his bed still damp from the shower with our skin warm and flushed. His naked body stretched out on top of mine. I slid my hands up his bare back and his muscles rippled under my touch.
“I need you,” he whispered against my throat. The vulnerability in his voice made my heart flutter.
“I’m here,” I told him as my hands framed his face. “I’m right here.”
He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air, his mouth claiming mine with a desperation that made my pulse race. I could taste the need on his lips, feel it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they roamed over my body.
I didn’t know what happened tonight, but he was different. I wanted to give him everything he needed. Would I be enough?
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as his gaze traveled over my naked body. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.”
I reached up to touch his face, my thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. “Where else would I be?”
The question seemed to undo something in him. He kissed me again, slower this time but no less intense, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made heat pool low in my belly. I could feel him hard against my thigh, could feel the barely leashed control in the way he held himself back.
“I want to take my time with you,” he said against my lips. “I want to memorize every inch of you.”
“We have all night,” I breathed, arching beneath him as his mouth moved to my throat.
He took me at my word, his lips and tongue mapping every sensitive spot he could find.
When he took my breast into his mouth, I gasped and arched off the bed, my fingers tangling in his damp hair.
He lavished attention on one nipple until I was writhing beneath him, then moved to the other, his free hand skimming down my body to part my thighs.
“Cooper,” I gasped when his fingers found me already wet and ready for him.
“I know,” he murmured against my skin. “I can feel how much you want this.”
He slid one finger inside me, then two, his thumb circling my clit in maddening slow circles that had me trembling on the edge of release. But just when I thought I might come apart, he pulled his hand away, ignoring my whimper of protest.
He kissed his way down my stomach until he was lying flat with his face between my legs. I looked down at him. And then he kissed me there.
My head dropped back, and my eyes closed.
The first touch of his tongue against me made me cry out, my hips lifting off the bed as sensation shot through my entire body. He held me steady with his hands on my thighs, his grip firm as he explored me with his mouth.
“God, you taste incredible,” he murmured against me. The vibration of his words sent another wave of pleasure through my core.
My fingers intertwined through his hair, not to guide him but just to anchor myself to something solid as he worked me with his tongue. He took his time, alternating between broad, flat strokes and focused attention on my clit that had me gasping his name.
He slid two fingers inside me while his mouth continued its relentless assault. I felt myself climbing toward the edge of release. My thighs trembled around his head. I could hear myself making sounds I didn’t recognize—desperate, needy whimpers that came from somewhere deep inside me.
“I’m close,” I managed to gasp, my back arching as the tension built to an almost unbearable peak.
He didn’t let up. If anything he just became more focused. His fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids, while his tongue worked my clit with perfect pressure.
The orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. It stole my breath and made my vision go white around the edges. I cried out his name. My body convulsed as pleasure radiated through every nerve ending.
He kissed his way up my body before he positioned himself between my legs. “I want to feel you come around me. I love being inside you. I love feeling your body squeeze around me.”
When he finally entered me, we both groaned at the sensation. He filled me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way as he sank deep. For a moment, we stayed perfectly still, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard as we adjusted to the intensity of being joined.
“Move,” I whispered, my legs wrapping around his waist. “Please, Cooper, I need you to move.”
He started slow, each thrust deliberate and deep, his eyes locked on mine as if he were memorizing this moment. But as the pleasure built between us, his control began to fray. His movements became more urgent, more desperate. I met him thrust for thrust, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“God, Joy,” he groaned, his rhythm becoming erratic. “You feel so perfect. So right.”
I could feel another orgasm building, that familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core. When Cooper shifted slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside me, I cried out and shattered around him. My body clenched as waves of pleasure crashed over me.
The feeling of me coming undone beneath him pushed Cooper over the edge. He thrust deep one final time and came with a broken groan, his body shuddering as he spilled inside me.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, both of us breathing hard and slightly stunned by the intensity of what had just happened. Cooper’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer against his chest.
We stayed like that for a long time, skin to skin in the darkness of his bedroom, neither of us wanting to break the spell of intimacy we’d woven around ourselves. Eventually, Cooper’s breathing evened out as exhaustion from his long day finally caught up with him.
His heartbeat steadied beneath my ear and something shifted inside me. This wasn’t just physical anymore—hadn’t been for a while, if I was being honest with myself. What I felt for Cooper was deeper than desire, stronger than attraction.
I was falling in love with him, and the realization both thrilled and terrified me in equal measure.