Chapter 22
twenty-two
I’ve been tossing and turning for what seems like forever when my stomach grumbles. Picking up my phone from the small nightstand, I check the time to see it’s just after four in the morning.
Shit. Might as well get up and see about something to eat.
Taking a pair of black sweatpants from the small dresser drawer, I pull them on over my boxer briefs I normally wear to bed with my black tank top.
I tiptoe out of my room and down the hall. The main bunk room is quiet except for Justin’s snoring, which I can hear through the closed door. Geez, that man could wake the dead. I’m surprised the other guys don’t smother him in his sleep.
The metal stairs are cool against my bare feet as I climb them to the second floor, dark except for the soft glow coming from above the stove in the kitchen.
When I round the corner, I nearly trip over my own feet when I see Logan shirtless and standing at the sink in nothing but a pair of black joggers hanging low on his hips. Sharp cut of his Adonis belt on full display, his head is tilted back, throat bobbing as he drinks.
“Hey.”
He startles, water sloshing, spilling down his chin and onto his chest.
Helpless against the man-god vision before me, my eyes trail over his chest and abs until they snag on the prominent outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his joggers.
Holy shit.
My eyes snap back up to find his mouth set in a firm line as he rakes his gaze from my tangled hair down to my bare feet and back up again.
The intensity of it makes my skin prickle with heat, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of how thin my tank top is, how the cool air has my nipples pebbling beneath it.
Setting his empty glass down on the counter, he swipes the water off his chin with the back of his hand and stalks across the room to loom over me. All six-foot freaking four of him.
“What’re you doing up?” The gravel in his voice sends heat licking through my core.
“I... couldn’t sleep and I was hungry.”
Logan leans in ever so slightly and takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s breathing me in before he abruptly spins around, giving me his back.
“Cheesy eggs?” he asks as he walks over to the stove and takes down a frying pan from where it’s hanging on the wall.
“Um. Sure,” I respond, mentally shaking my head at his abruptness. “That sounds great. I can help.”
“No. I’ve got it.” He waves a hand at the island. “Have a seat.”
I slide onto one of the stools, tucking my feet on the rung and fold my arms on the counter. With the temperature dropping outside, the kitchen is a little chilly and makes me shiver. But hell if I’m going back down to my room to grab a hoodie.
Not when I’ve got this view.
Logan moves around the kitchen with quiet efficiency. Pulling eggs, cheese and a carton of milk from the fridge, he sets everything on the counter before grabbing a whisk from a drawer next to the stove.
Back muscles flex and roll as he gets to work, and I press my thighs together in a not so valiant attempt to ease the sudden ache.
Great. Now my mouth is watering for something other than cheesy eggs.
He cracks the eggs one-handed, whisk scraping against the glass bowl as he beats them, biceps bunching beneath his tattoo.
There’s something hypnotic about watching Logan being domestic, focused intently on his task. Polar opposite to the broody man who has done nothing but dismiss me with barely a word over the past few days.
Despite putting me on another shift, he seems to be around the station more often than not when I’m here. Guess it comes with the territory, him being the captain and all.
The eggs sizzle as he pours the mixture into the heated pan, the smell of butter and eggs making my stomach growl again.
Shoulders tense, Logan doesn’t look up as he stirs, just keeps his back to me as he sprinkles shredded cheese over the eggs, steam curling in the air.
Once the eggs are done, he kills the heat and sets the pan aside before moving over to the refrigerator.
A little squirmy in my seat, I get up and move over to the cabinet next to the fridge to grab a couple of plates just as Logan turns, holding a carton of orange juice. Narrowly avoiding a collision, he freezes, eyes dropping to my mouth, then down to my breasts.
A low, guttural growl rumbles from his chest as he sets the juice down on the counter with a heavy thud.
Before I can step out of his personal space, he’s on me, crowding me up against the refrigerator door.
One hand planted beside my head, he grips my hip with the other, fingers digging in just hard enough to make me gasp.
Then he ducks, tucking his face into the curve of my neck, and takes a deep breath in.
His lips brush the sensitive skin just below my ear, moving slowly over the line of my jaw, coming to an abrupt halt to hover over my mouth.
Just as my eyelids start to flutter, he shoves away. Grabbing the pan off the stove with a frustrated growl, he stalks over to the counter and divides the eggs onto the two plates, setting one down on the island with a heavy thunk.
“Here.” His voice sounds strained. “I’m going to go before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Without another word, he snatches up the other plate and storms down the hall into his office and slams the door.
Silence presses in around me, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick of the clock on the wall.
He more than wanted to kiss me. I know he did. I felt it in the way his body pressed against mine, how his fingers dug into my hip like he was trying to anchor himself. But something—fear, pride, or the line he drew for himself, take your pick—made him stop.
I pick up my fork and push the eggs around on my plate. Throat tight, I blink rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.
This is exactly why I shouldn’t have taken this job.
I should have turned down the offer the second I found out Logan was going to be my boss.
Because no matter how much I try to convince myself that I can work alongside him and Brex without falling, much less falling apart, it’s moments like these that prove me wrong.
Gasping awake, skin slicked with sweat, I throw the covers off in a desperate attempt to cool down.
Aside from a small sliver of light under my door coming from the night light in the hall, my room here at the fire station is so dark I can barely make out the silhouette of the chair tucked under my desk.
I climb out of bed and grab my robe from where I tossed it over the back of the chair and put it on. Tying the belt snug around my waist, I grab a towel and quietly open my door.
Looking right and then left, making sure no one else is up, I tiptoe down the hall to the showers.
Save for the hum of the tankless water heater on the wall, the bathroom is quiet when I slip inside. Hanging my towel on the hook outside the stall, I step into the shower and pull the curtain closed behind me.
It only takes a few seconds to adjust the shower to a cooler setting. Once it’s the perfect temperature, I step under the spray. The cool water feels amazing, easing the heat licking over my skin, washing away the remnants of my nightmare still clinging to the edges of my brain.
Images of Rebecca’s hand slipping from mine start to fade as I close my eyes and just breathe, pressing my forehead against the cool tile, willing the memory away.
The light flicks on, then off. I ignore it. Probably just some old wiring.
But when it happens again, it’s longer, more deliberate. I freeze, water running over my head and down my face.
“Hello?” I call. “Someone out there?”
Silence stretches for a beat before I hear what sounds like muffled footsteps and then a soft, “It’s me.”
Brex.
Relief floods my veins. “Damn it, Brex. You scared me.”
“Sorry.” His voice, low and warm, comes from the other side of the curtain. “I turned the light off and on so you’d know someone was here.”
“I’m fine,” my voice wobbles. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Bad dream?”
Caught off guard, I hesitate. “Yeah.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” The word comes out a little too sharp, so I soften it with a sigh. “Not really.”
I reach for the soap.
“Okay. I’ll just hang out here until you’re done.”
A small laugh escapes. “Not necessary.”
“I know.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “But I’m gonna anyway.”
And he does. Not saying much, just humming something low and tuneless that for some reason makes me feel calm. Safe.
When I’m finished, I shut off the water and wait as I drip, suddenly aware that I’m totally naked.
“Brex?”
“Yeah?” he murmurs softly.
“Can you hand me my towel?”
The curtain ripples slightly before his large hand appears, holding it out for me.
When I step out, Brex is leaning against the sink, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of boxers. His gaze travels slowly over me, lingering on where I have my hand fisted in the towel, clutching it to my chest.
“Not to overstep,” he murmurs. “But there’s one thing I know for sure that’ll help you sleep, Pretty. If you’ll let me?”
The heat in his eyes tells me he’s definitely not offering to fix me a cup of bedtime tea. My breath catches in my throat as I consider his words.
He pushes off the sink, moving into my space. “No one has to know,” he whispers, reaching up to brush his knuckles softly down my cheek.
Touch feather-light, it sends electricity crackling across my skin. I should say no. Go back to my room alone and try to sleep. But my nightmare still lingers on the edges of my brain, and right now Brex’s presence seems to be the only thing keeping it at bay.
The way he’s looking at me has all promises of keeping things professional flying out the fucking window. “Okay.”
His eyes widen with surprise, then darken. Without another word, I turn and walk out of the bathroom and down the hall to my room, hyperaware he’s less than two steps behind me. When we reach my door, I glance around before stepping inside.
Brex closes the door and turns the lock.
“Get into bed,” he grunts. The words come as a command, but his tone is soft.
I drop the towel.
All I hear is a sharp intake of breath as I climb onto the bed.
Holding the sheets up to my chest, I watch as Brex reaches behind his head and pulls off his shirt.
His boxers are next, joining the pile on the floor.
Naked, he stalks across the room, mattress dipping under his weight as he settles in beside me.
For a moment, we regard each other, the air between us charged with anticipation.
“You’re shivering,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a strand of damp hair away from my face.
“Not from the cold,” I whisper, and it’s true. The air in the room feels much colder now than it did when I first woke up. But with Brex looking at me the way he is right now?
Heat pools low in my belly as he slowly leans in, giving me plenty of time to pull away. When I don’t, he closes the distance, lips grazing mine in a kiss that starts out soft before it deepens.
Tongue licking in to tangle with mine, he trails his fingers down my arm and I let out a little squeak.
“Shh-shh,” he whispers-chuckles against my mouth. “We have to be quiet. Lie down.”
Heart hammering, I scoot down and roll onto my side. Curving his body against mine, his chest is warm and solid against my back. The heat from his skin seeps into mine as he drapes an arm over my waist, pulling me flush against him.
The hard ridge of his cock presses against my ass. My breath stutters as he tucks his head into the crook of my neck, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin below my ear.
“Relax,” he hums, hot breath sending shivers cascading down my spine.
Sliding his hand down my stomach, he splays his fingers over my hip before giving them a gentle nudge, parting my thighs just enough to slip his hand between them. The first brush of his fingers along my slit makes me gasp.
His fingers glide through my slick heat, circling my entrance before sliding two inside me with agonizing slowness. “So wet for me already,” he groans, pressing a kiss to the pulse hammering wildly beneath my skin.
Twisting my fingers in the sheets, I bring them up to my mouth and bite down on my fist to keep from crying out as he presses two fingers inside, thumb circling my clit, applying just enough pressure to make my vision blur.
“Shit,” he breathes, cock twitching as my inner walls clench around his fingers.
He works me slowly. Every stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through me, building higher and higher until I’m trembling in his arms.
“I’m going to make you come until you’re so tired you pass out,” he promises, breath haggard against my ear. “No more bad dreams tonight. Just me…” Flick. “…making you come.”
“Yes, please.” I lift my hand, tangling my fingers in his hair as he presses another kiss to my neck, his teeth grazing over my shoulder.
Brex growls when he feels my inner muscles flex.
“Don’t stop,” I beg as his thumb circles my clit faster, my pussy making we sucking sounds as he pumps. “Please, Brex.”
“Never,” he growls, adding a third finger, stretching me so fucking good. “I’ve got you.”
The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter. My legs start to shake, my breaths coming in short, ragged pants as I chase my release hovering just out of reach.
“That’s it,” he urges, pressing his forehead against my upper back.
Light explodes, bursts of color dotting my vision as I come.
Both of us are panting hard as I come down. Raising himself up on one arm, I turn my head, gazes locking as he leans in, pressing a kiss to my lips.
“Ready for round two?” Brex hums, still sliding his fingers languidly through my folds. A tip of a finger grazes my clit, making me jerk in response.
All I can do is nod.
“Such a good girl.”