7. Mack
Chapter seven
Mack
T he instant Maya challenges me to kiss her, my carefully constructed resolve crumbles like a charred support beam giving way in an inferno. One second, I’m warning her off. The next, I’m drowning in those defiant blue eyes and cupping her jaw in my palm. Her skin is impossibly soft against my hand, and when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, I’m lost.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in the floral scent of her shampoo.
“Tell me to stop, darling,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut, though we both know that’s not happening.
Instead of backing down, she fists her hands in my shirt and pulls. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
A voice in the back of my mind screams about regulations and careers and consequences, but I shove it aside. I’ll deal with the fallout later. I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise. Her lips are soft but demanding as she kisses me back with the same intensity she brings to every task. Because, of course, she does. I should have known Maya would approach a kiss like she does everything—all in, no hesitation.
My free hand spans her waist, and I press her back against the elevator wall, my hips pinning her firmly in place. I rarely use my size as an advantage, but all bets are off with this firecracker who seems to know exactly how to make me forget every single reason kissing her is a terrible idea. Plus, Maya doesn’t seem to mind. She’s stretching up on her toes as if she can’t get enough. And I know the feeling. She nips at my bottom lip then soothes the sting with her tongue. A groan rumbles up from my chest as heat floods my veins. Every brush of her lips, every slide of her tongue against mine, sends electricity crackling across my skin.
To hell with professional boundaries. To hell with department regulations. Right now, at this moment, all that matters is how perfectly Maya fits against me, as if she were made to be here. I tilt her head, adjusting the angle to deepen the kiss. A soft sound from the back of her throat nearly undoes me. It’s a cross between a whimper and a sigh that confirms she’s powerless against whatever this molten heat is between us.
My thumb traces the line of her jaw as our tongues tangle and explore. She tastes like heaven and sin wrapped into one irresistible package. And when she tugs my bottom lip between her teeth, pleasure shoots straight down my spine.
Despite her tiny frame, or maybe because of it, Maya kisses as if she’s trying to climb inside me. When I slide my hand into her hair, loosening that precise ponytail, she arches into me with a soft moan that vibrates through my chest. Her fingers trail fire up my neck, threading through my hair, dragging me closer. The sweet pressure of her curves against my chest is maddening. I want to touch her everywhere, to memorize every inch of her.
I work my way down her neck, stalling when the rapid flutter of her pulse under my lips makes satisfaction curl in my gut. Her breath comes in quick gasps that match my own racing heart. I pull away enough to peer down at her, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Maya Thorne with her guard down, her usual rigid control scattered at our feet like confetti. With a groan, I lower back down, searching for that sensitive spot just below her ear. And when her nails scrape my scalp, I can’t help but growl against her skin.
“Mack,” she breathes, and I’ve never heard my name sound like that before. Like a prayer and a curse wrapped into one breathy syllable.
I capture her mouth again, gentler this time, but no less intensely. She melts into me, all that fierce energy softening as she kisses me back with equal tenderness. Somehow, it’s even more devastating. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, memorizing their shape, their taste, knowing I shouldn’t continue but unable to stop myself. Jake and Brock’s warnings echo in my head, but I shove them aside. I’ll handle the consequences later.
My hand at her waist slides lower, gripping her ass to pull her against my rock-hard length. She freezes at the contact, and in a heartbeat, I know things have gone too far. Maya’s palms slide to my chest and press hard, pushing me away.
I step back immediately, the blood pounding in my veins. Her lips are swollen and pink, her features cast in a soft glow from the elevator’s emergency lights, but her expression is wary. I draw a ragged breath as her chest heaves.
“Satisfied?” Her breathless tone undermines her attempt at casual. “Got that out of your system, so we can get back to work?” She runs a palm along her hair, smoothing some tendrils of dark hair that have escaped and frame her flushed face like delicate wisps of smoke.
A laugh bubbles up in my chest. Partly at her stubborn pride and partly at the absurdity of thinking one kiss could ever be enough. I itch to reach up and trace her jawline while I study her, memorizing how she looks right now, attempting to get back to business, but still disheveled. Because of me.
“Sweetheart, if you think one kiss will get you out of my system, you clearly haven’t been paying attention.”
“I’ve been doing nothing but paying attention to the way you’ve been acting the last few days,” she exclaims, exasperated.
My heart stutters at her words. All this time, I thought I was the only one stealing glances, cataloging every subtle change in her expression, tracking her movements across the station like some lovesick teenager. But she noticed me. Of course, she did. Maya misses nothing. It’s what makes her such a damn good firefighter.
“That so?” I manage, trying for casual even as satisfaction unfurls in my chest. Something about knowing she’s been as hyperaware of me as I’ve been of her makes me want to pin her against this elevator wall all over again. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”
An amused glint flickers in those ice-blue eyes. “About as subtle as a five-alarm fire.” Her lips quirk up at the corners. “The way you’ve been avoiding me, volunteering for extra equipment checks, switching positions during drills…”
Called out completely, I can’t help but grin. “In my defense, I was trying to be professional.”
“How’s that working out for you?” she challenges.
“About as well as your attempt to get me out of your system with one kiss,” I counter, watching with satisfaction as her cheeks flush crimson.
Her breath catches, and for a moment, I think I see something vulnerable flash in those ice-blue eyes before her walls slam back into place. She smooths her uniform with quick, efficient movements, busying her hands, so I don’t notice them trembling slightly. But I do.
“We can’t do this again,” she says firmly. “You know we can’t.”
Damn it.
“I know.” But that kiss? It wasn’t a cure. More like throwing gasoline on a fire that was already burning out of control. I can’t resist reaching up to brush my thumb across her bottom lip, still pink and swollen. She shivers, and satisfaction curls in my gut. At least, I’m not the only one affected here. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
“Mack.” My name comes out as half warning and half plea. It shouldn’t make my pulse kick up, but here we are.
“You started it,” I remind her with a grin, trying to lighten the moment before the reality of our situation crashes back in.
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile she’s fighting. “What are you? Twelve?”
“Not even close.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, earning another eye roll even as her cheeks flush a gorgeous shade of coral. “Want me to prove it?”
“We have an inspection to complete,” she says as if I’ve forgotten, but there’s a huskiness to her voice that nearly breaks my resolve.
Instead, I step back and run a hand through my hair, trying to get my racing pulse under control. She’s right. We have a job to do. But as she reaches for the Emergency Stop button, her fingers brush mine, and that single point of contact sends another jolt of awareness through me.
This woman will be the death of me. But if one thing is crystal clear now, it’s that she’s worth it.
Maya
“Who’s got you tearing apart your closet on a Thursday night?” Shannon’s disbelieving voice carries from my bedroom doorway, making me jump. I hadn’t even heard her come home.
“No one,” I mutter, tossing another workout shirt onto the growing pile on my bed.
“Right.” She leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms and eyeing my jeans. “Because you always spend your free time trying on clothes instead of hitting the gym or sleeping between shifts.”
“I just need something that isn’t navy blue, for once.”
“So you are going on a date.” She plops down next to the pile and settles in as if there’s a story here, which I suppose there is.
“It’s not a date,” I insist. “Just…a conversation.” One that needs to be had after what happened today.
She toes off her sneakers, and they drop to the floor with two thuds. “A conversation that requires the perfect outfit?”
I shove aside another hanger with more force than necessary. “I’m not looking for the perfect outfit.”
“Where did you even meet someone to go out with?” she continues, frowning at me. “You’ve been so busy at your new station I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Just…around.” It’s not a complete lie.
But Shannon’s onto me like a rescue dog catching a scent. I practically see her nose twitching as she pieces it together. Three, two, one—
“Wait.” Her eyes go wide. “The station? You met someone at your new station?” When I don’t immediately deny it, she groans. “Maya Alexandra Thorne. Please tell me you’re not considering dating a firefighter .”
“We’re not dating.” Just kissing in elevators like two sparking wires in an electrical storm, with enough heat to melt steel and zero regard for department policies.
“Well then, what are you talking about during this conversation, and why can’t you do it at work?” Her liberal use of air quotes is so like her. Shannon transferred into my fourth-grade class and, no questions asked, joined my after-school girls-only Lego club. From that day on, we were inseparable, and we even moved in together the day after graduation. Usually, she’s my biggest cheerleader, and I’m her voice of reason. Tonight, though, it seems as if the roles are reversed.
I sink onto my bed, shoving aside a stack of rejected shirts. “We’re talking about a kiss, if you must know.”
She sucks in a gulp of air and grabs my arm. “A kiss?”
I nod.
“Was it good?” But before I can answer, she laughs. “Of course, it was good, I mean, otherwise you wouldn’t be meeting up for a booty call, hours later, under the pretense of talking about it.” There she goes with the air quotes again.
“This is not a booty call,” I retort automatically, ignoring the way my thighs clench at the suggestion.
“Right,” she says, drawing out the word.
“It’s not.” I jump up and head back to my closet. “We just need to talk about what happened and why it can’t happen again, so we can get back to focusing on work.”
“But do you want it to happen again?”
I still, my gut screaming the answer as if it’s hooked up to the station’s five-alarm system. Of course, I want it to happen again. I want it with an intensity that should probably trigger every emergency protocol in the book. But wanting something and being able to have it are two very different things.
“It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m not about to sacrifice everything I’ve worked for years to achieve.”
“I hear you, I do,” Shannon says, her tone softer. “But the Maya I know wouldn’t have let a man kiss her if she didn’t feel something for him, something real. Unless I’m wrong, of course.” She shrugs as if maybe she’s way off base, and I fall right into her trap.
“No,” I admit, heaving a sigh. “You’re not wrong. But…” I trail off, biting my tongue.
Too late. “But what?”
“But I didn’t let him kiss me. More like I challenged him to.”
Her face splits into a wide grin, and she lies back, tucking her hands behind her head. “Oh, now, you’ve got to spill.”
“It happened this morning,” I start. “I overheard him ask the chief to send someone else with him to perform an elevator inspection. Anyone but me. I was furious.”
“Not how I thought this story would start, but go on.”
“We were in the elevator, and I confronted him about it. About how he’s been avoiding me for days. But instead of denying it, you know what he said?”
“What?”
“That he can’t think straight when I’m around!”
“Then he kissed you because he couldn’t hold back anymore?” She fake swoons.
“Not exactly.”
“That would have been romantic.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, fiddling with the hem of a moisture-wicking tank top, “he didn’t. So I said something like, ‘if I’m such a distraction then maybe you should kiss me and get it out of your system.’”
“You didn’t!”
I wrinkle my nose. “I did.”
“So he did? He kissed you?”
“No, he told me it was a bad idea.”
“Which it was,” she agrees.
“Of course.”
“Then he kissed you.”
“Still no. Then I assured him no one was around to see and that it was just between the two of us.”
She springs up faster than a popcorn kernel in a hot pan. “Who are you and what have you done with my disciplined, hardworking, take no shit friend, who never in her entire life has challenged a man to kiss her? Especially not another firefighter? ”
I get her confusion, really I do. “Mack’s…different.”
“Different how?”
I absently trace a finger along the FDNY logo on the nearest shirt, gathering my thoughts. Before now, I haven’t had to explain what it is about Mack that has me so off kilter. Haven’t had to put it in words.
“He never makes me feel small. Though he’s huge, Mack doesn’t use his size to intimidate me. Instead, he…” I trail off, remembering how it felt on the ladder last week, and today, in the elevator when I was wedged between him and the wall.
“He what?” Shannon prompts, tucking a leg under her and inching closer.
I blow out a breath. “He makes me feel safe.”
“Safe?”
“Safe.”
“You’ve never needed anyone to make you feel safe.”
“That’s just it. I don’t need him to. He just…does without even trying.” I run a hand through my loose hair, frustrated by my inability to explain. “It’s like he sees my strength as sexy instead of threatening. Like he actually respects me as an equal. Oh, and he has a rescue cat named Smokey. I mean, come on!”
“And you’re sure this isn’t just some game to him?”
I think about his playful nicknames and how quickly he backed off when I bristled. How he noticed my sore muscles after that double workout but didn’t coddle me. The way his eyes darken when I stand up to him, pride rather than annoyance in his expression.
“Pretty sure games aren’t his style.”
“Well.” Shannon stands, moving to my closet. “If you’re determined to see him tonight to talk about things, at least let me help you not look like you just rolled off a firetruck.” She eyes me critically. “Though knowing you, that’s probably exactly what turns him on.”
“It’s not—” I sputter. “We’re not—”
“Sure, sure.” She rifles through hangers. “You’re just going to have a conversation . A very professional conversation that required you to shave your legs.”
I grab a pillow and chuck it at her head. She dodges it with a laugh.
“I hate you,” I mutter, but we both know I don’t mean it.
“You love me. Now, what are your thoughts on that hunter green top with the lace neckline?” She holds up a silky sleeveless shirt I’d forgotten I owned. “Since this totally-not-a-date is definitely not ending with you taking it off.”
I groan, flopping back on my bed. “What am I doing, Shan?”
“From where I’m standing?” She tosses the top my way. “Finally letting someone in. Someone who must be worth it, based on how much you’re willing to risk.”