Chapter 3
KAMERON
Icouldn't remember the last time I'd talked this much.
Not about work. Not about schedules or inventory or which server called in sick. Real talking. The kind where you forgot to check the clock and suddenly realized hours had slipped by without you noticing.
Conner had moved from the barstool to a booth at some point, and I'd slid in across from him without really thinking about it. The coffee had gone cold, then been replaced, then gone cold again. Outside, the snow kept falling, piling up against the windows like the world was slowly disappearing.
In here, it was just us.
"So you're telling me," I said, "that you once convinced your entire crew that the captain had approved a mandatory karaoke night for team building."
"In my defense, it worked." He grinned, and something in my chest fluttered in a way I didn't want to examine. "Morale was through the roof. At least until the captain found out."
"And then?"
"Then I spent two weeks on latrine duty." He shrugged, completely unbothered. "Worth it. You should've seen Hux try to sing 'I Will Always Love You.' Changed my whole perspective on the man."
I laughed. Actually laughed, not the polite chuckle I gave customers when they made jokes I'd heard a thousand times. This one came from somewhere deeper, surprising me with how good it felt.
Conner's expression shifted when I laughed. Softened. He was looking at me the way he'd been looking at me all night—like I was something worth paying attention to. But there was something else there now. Something warmer.
I should be more careful. I knew that. This was exactly the kind of situation I'd trained myself to avoid. Alone with a charming guy, late at night, walls coming down. I'd seen how this story ended. The charm always faded once they got what they wanted.
But Conner hadn't tried anything. He'd just…talked to me. Asked questions and actually listened to the answers. Told me stories that made me laugh. Let the silences sit without rushing to fill them.
It was disarming in a way I hadn't expected.
"What about you?" he asked. "What's the most trouble you've ever gotten into?"
"I don't get into trouble. I'm the one who prevents it."
"That's not an answer."
I traced my finger around the rim of my coffee mug, buying time. The honest answer was embarrassing. The honest answer revealed more about me than I usually let anyone see.
"I've never really done anything wild," I admitted. "I was always the responsible one. Good grades, sensible choices, early curfews I set for myself because my parents never bothered." I shrugged. "Boring, I know."
"That's not boring. That’s…” He paused, searching for the word. "Lonely, maybe."
The accuracy of it hit deep. I looked up at him, and the teasing glint was gone from his eyes. He was just watching me, steady and serious.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Sometimes."
The snow was still falling outside. I could hear the wind picking up, howling around the corners of the building. But in here, in this booth, everything felt still. Suspended. Like we'd stepped outside of normal time and the usual rules didn't apply.
Maybe that's why I said what I said next. "I've never done this before."
Conner tilted his head. "Had coffee with a firefighter during a blizzard? I'd imagine not. Pretty specific scenario."
"That's not what I mean."
He went quiet. Waiting. Not pushing, just giving me space to find the words.
"I've never…” I took a breath. This was insane. I barely knew this man. But something about the way he looked at me made me feel like I could say anything. "I've never been with anyone. At all."
The confession hung in the air between us. I watched his face for the reaction I expected—surprise, maybe, or that predatory gleam guys got when they realized they had a chance to be someone's first.
But Conner just held my gaze, something unreadable in his expression. "Why are you telling me this?"
His voice was lower than before. Rougher.
Good question. I didn't have a good answer. Only the truth.
"Because I can't stop thinking about what it would be like." I swallowed. "With you."
The silence stretched between us. One heartbeat. Two. The wind howled outside, and the lights flickered once, twice, then steadied.
Conner slid out of his side of the booth and stood there, looking down at me. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
"Kameron." He said my name like it meant something. "Are you sure?"
I should say no. I should laugh it off, blame the late hour, the strange intimacy of being snowed in together. Go back to being the manager with the clipboard and the walls that kept everyone at a safe distance.
Instead, I stood up. "I'm sure."
The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them, hanging in the dim light of the empty restaurant like a challenge. Conner's eyes darkened, searching mine for any hint of hesitation. There was none. Not tonight. Not with him.
He didn't move right away. Just nodded once, slow and deliberate, like he was giving me one last out. When I didn't take it, something shifted in the air between us—it suddenly became charged.
I stepped past him, my pulse racing as I headed toward the back. The manager's office was just down the short hallway, past the kitchen doors. Small, cramped, barely big enough for the desk and a filing cabinet, but it had a lock. And right now, that was all that mattered.
I didn't look back to see if he was following. I didn’t need to. I could feel him behind me, the heat of his presence like a shadow I wanted to pull closer.
The office door creaked as I pushed it open. The desk was a mess—papers stacked high from inventory reports I'd been meaning to file, a half-empty mug of coffee gone cold days ago.
I didn't care. I turned to face him, my back to the desk, and reached for the scattered sheets. With one sweep of my arm, I shoved them aside, sending a cascade of papers fluttering to the floor like the snow had come inside.
Then I climbed onto the desk, perching on the edge. My heart hammered so loud, I was sure he could hear it.
Conner stepped in after me, closing the door with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot in the tiny space.
He didn't lock it yet. Just leaned back against it, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me with that intense, unblinking gaze.
Like he was waiting. Like he was daring me to take the lead.
I wasn't sure I could. This was all new—terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. But the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world worth seeing, made me bold.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the button of my jeans.
I popped it open, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
Then the zipper, slow and deliberate. I lifted my hips just enough to wiggle out of them, shimmying the denim down my legs until it pooled at my ankles.
I kicked off my shoes and let the jeans fall to the floor, daring him with my eyes to say something, do something.
He didn't. Not yet. Instead, he reached for the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside. His chest was broad, dusted with dark hair that trailed down to the waistband of his pants, muscles shifting under tanned skin from years of hard work.
God, he was beautiful. I couldn't look away.
Emboldened, I shrugged off my cardigan, letting it drop.
Then I removed my T-shirt, peeling it up and over my head.
The air was cool on my flushed skin, raising goosebumps as I sat there in just my plain cotton bra and panties.
Nothing fancy—simple white cotton, the kind I'd thrown on this morning without a thought.
Heat crept up my neck. I hadn't planned for this, hadn't dressed for seduction. I crossed my arms instinctively, suddenly shy.
Conner's gaze roamed over me, hot and appreciative, no hint of disappointment. If anything, his jaw tightened, his breath coming a little rougher.
He took a step forward, but I lifted my hand, palm out. "Stop."
He froze, one brow arching in question.
"Strip," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "All of it."
I didn't know where this commanding side of me was coming from—the girl who'd always played it safe, always waited for permission. But I liked it. The power of it thrummed through me like a drug.
Conner groaned low in his throat, but there was a spark of amusement—and heat—in his eyes.
He toed off his boots, then unbuckled his belt, the metal clink loud in the cramped space.
Pants next, shoved down with his boxers in one go.
He stepped out of them, kicking them aside, until he stood there completely bare.
Magnificent. Hard already, thick and heavy, curving up against his stomach. My mouth went dry, a rush of wetness between my thighs at the sight of him.
He leaned back against the door again, mirroring my earlier dare. Arms loose at his sides, he tilted his head. The challenge hung there, electric.
"Touch yourself," I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could overthink them. "I want to watch."
His eyes flared. A rough sound escaped him—half laugh, half groan—but he wrapped his hand around himself without hesitation. Slow at first, base to tip, his fist gliding over heated skin. Once. Twice. Several long, deliberate pumps that had his abs flexing, his breath hitching.
"Fuck, Kameron," he muttered, voice gravelly. "Your turn. Slide your hand inside those panties. Touch yourself for me."
I hesitated, cheeks burning. "I've…I’ve never done that before."
His gaze softened even as his hand kept moving, lazy and teasing. "That's okay. I'll tell you how. Spread your legs a little wider for me."
I did, thighs parting on the desk, the wood creaking under me. My hand shook as I slipped it under the waistband of my panties, fingers finding that slick, sensitive nub. I gasped at the first touch—foreign and shocking in the best way.
"Circle your clit," he said, voice low and commanding now. "Slow. Feel how wet you are?"
I nodded, biting my lip as I followed his instructions. The pressure built fast, sparks shooting through me with every pass of my fingers. It felt so good—better than I'd imagined in my secret, guilty thoughts.
"Faster now," he murmured, his own strokes picking up pace, eyes locked on where my hand disappeared into my panties. "Dip inside. One finger. Imagine it's me."
I whimpered, sliding a finger into my tightness, the intrusion making me clench. My head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as I chased the building heat, hips rocking instinctively against my hand.
He didn't speak again, didn't move closer. Just watched, his breathing ragged, the wet sounds of his fist mingling with my soft moans.
It coiled tighter and tighter, pleasure I'd never known cresting like a wave. I circled faster, pressed harder, lost in it completely—until it crashed over me.
I cried out, body arching as the orgasm ripped through me, pulsing hot and fierce around my fingers. Waves of it, endless, leaving me trembling and breathless.
When it finally ebbed, I slumped back against the wall, eyes still closed, chest heaving.
And he still hadn't moved.