Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
brODIE
Savannah’s message makes me jump. It shouldn’t. I’m literally holding my phone and staring at it. Waiting for her shift to end. Willing her to reach out. Hoping she only sent me away from the fire hall because, like me, she was finding it too fucking hard to keep her distance.
I blink at her text. Five words. No formalities.
Shift’s over. I need you.
I’ve tugged on my boots and am out of my apartment door in less than three seconds, jogging the four blocks back to the station. If I’m quick enough, I can catch up with her on her walk home. And after the day’s rollercoaster, I’m grasping at the chance to spend every possible second together.
My experience of the fire was pretty earth-shattering for my own reasons.
I wasn’t the one putting his life at risk by climbing a ladder and facing off with flames.
I wasn’t the hero saving a mother and child from imminent death.
I wasn’t even marshaling the crowd, or answering questions.
But none of that was a hardship because I had my own role to play.
When I was given this assignment, just thinking about being in a fire hall was laced with humiliation and shame.
But something’s changed. Fighting fires isn’t my job.
It could have been, but it’s not what I chose.
My job is to write about it. Meaning capturing the scene that played out.
Telling its story. Doing my utmost to not let my fear take over as I watched the woman I love voluntarily climb into a burning building, selflessly putting herself in the path of a fire to save others.
But then Savannah stumbled down the ladder and fainted. And at that point, I was no longer the writer. I was a man who just wants to hold the woman he loves.
The past four hours have felt like decades waiting for that to be possible.
I up my pace to a sprint, round the final corner, and come to a screeching stop.
She’s right here. Caught in the low glow of the street light as day turns to dusk.
She also comes to a sudden stop and we just stand there, staring at each other like there’s an invisible barrier between us.
I can’t break it down yet. If I touch her, even to hold her hand, it won’t be nearly enough.
We keep on with the staring, our breath in sync, high in our chests and frantic.
“Are you okay?”
“For the billionth time, yes.” She struggles to project, her voice threadbare.
I nod. Guess she’s been asked that question enough.
She blinks. “My place or yours?”
“Mine’s closer.” I turn on my heel and start walking, knowing she’s right next to me.
Four blocks. The entire time connected by the same energy, neither of us touching. There’s a high probability we’ll combust if we do.
We approach my building and I remove my keys from the front pocket of my jeans.
“This is me.” I gesture to the dark, wooden-clad low-rise, with forest-green window trim and conifers towering around it. It’s an anomaly on the street. Like a weird implant from a national park in the middle of the West End.
She takes in the facade. “I always wondered what these apartments are like.”
“Guess you’re about to find out.” I lead us to the front door and try to slide my key into the lock. My hand’s shaking so badly I struggle. Luckily, one of my neighbors appears. The door swings open and they hold it for us to enter.
I mumble a thank you and move past the brass post boxes to the stairs. “Fourth floor. It’s a walk-up.”
Despite the relative hike, we reach the top faster than I’ve ever climbed the stairs before. Once again I have to juggle my shaking hands and my keys, but I’m more prepared this time, getting the key into the lock without making a total tit of myself.
I fling open the door, but neither of us moves. As if we know that once we cross the threshold, everything is going to change.
Taking out my phone, I pull up the app that controls my lights and switch them on. Deep oranges and reds glow across the polished wooden floors of my tiny apartment, the living room on the left and the bedroom on the right. Directly opposite the front door is the kitchen, basic and matchbox-sized.
Savannah peers inside and then nods to my phone. “Nice trick with the lights.”
I swallow. “Shall we go in?”
“Do you have roommates?”
“No. Just me.”
She turns, searching my face, her gaze molten hot. “Good.”
“Do you want to talk? About today. What happened.”
She shakes her head. Resolute. “Later.”
My eyes dart to her mouth as she licks her lips.
She’s changed into jeans and a soft gray tee after her shift, and her hair is still damp, falling around her shoulders. I’m guessing she came straight from the shower, but with her coconut scent and free-falling waves, she could have come straight from the beach.
I reach over, wrapping a lock of hair around my finger. “You’re beautiful.”
The connection seems to trigger something feral in her. Her eyes darken to navy blue and she grasps at my shirt.
Twisting it into her fists, she pulls me to within an inch of her. “I need you.”
Before I can respond, she closes the gap, locking her lips on mine.
The momentum knocks us back and we fuse together, frantic, tongues dueling, teeth scraping, kissing like we’re giving each other life.
I nudge us around the side of the doorframe and cage her against the wall, slamming the door shut with my foot.
Our hands fight over each other. Hers scrabbling to find their way under my shirt before her fingers snake into my belt loops, pulling me hard against her.
Mine roam under her tee, finding lace and sliding inside.
Her nipples are puckered, straining against the fabric.
I bite and kiss my way down her neck, lifting her tee with one hand and tugging down her bra cups with the other, ducking my head to suck each nipple in turn.
She claws against me, arching her back away from the wall as her hands return to my shirt. She rips it open, buttons scattering across the wooden floor, and then she eases the fabric from my shoulders.
In response, I yank her tee over her head, chucking it out of the way.
Our mouths crash together again and we fumble with each other’s jeans.
Buttons pop and zips open. I slide my hand inside, over the lace of her panties. I can feel her heat through the fabric and I press against her clit, rubbing her with my thumb as my fingers ease their way underneath the scrap of fabric.
She bucks against me as I slide a finger inside, followed by a second. She feels so hot, so ready, moaning as I fuck her with my hand.
Gasping into my mouth, she pushes open my jeans and winds her way into my boxers. The sensation of her soft skin brushing against my cock is nearly enough to make me blow right there and then. I jerk against her, freeing my hands so I can tear down her jeans.
We break apart, shaking ourselves free of our remaining clothes until we’re standing naked. I allow myself a glance over her body, her toned muscles trembling, her skin so delicate.
She grabs at me again. “You can stare at me later. Need you. Now.”
I chuckle but the sound morphs into a hiss as her hand returns to my cock. She fists it and I notice something between her teeth.
A condom? God, I fucking love this woman.
She tears it open and deftly rolls it onto me.
The most beautiful, technicolor memory of her doing exactly this when we were in college barrels into my head. I bite hard on my lip, anything to stop me from coming before I’ve even made it inside her.
She looks at me, eyes glazed with lust. “You okay?”
I lift her, pressing her back to the wall. “More than okay.”
My cock slides over her, bumping against her clit. She whimpers in my ear and goosebumps break out all the way down my spine.
I take one final breath. Savor one final moment. And then line myself up and bury myself inside her. Hard. Deep. Perfect.
It’s only seconds later that I feel her clenching around me.
Her nails dig into my back. “Oh god. I’m coming. Fuck.”
Her words are enough to tip me straight into oblivion.
All the adrenaline from the day.
All the tension that’s been building between us.
I still, muscles rigid, my cock pulsing deep inside her, her murmurs hot in my ear.
Holy. Wow.
We remain like that for a while. Locked in an embrace.
Her ass held in my hands, her back pressed against the wall.
Eventually, when my muscles start groaning loudly enough, I gently slide myself out of her and set her feet to the floor.
She stumbles back as she gazes up at me, eyes hooded, lips bruised.
“How are you even more beautiful?”
She smiles. It’s a coy smile. Like she’s regaining a little of her control.
I remove the condom, throwing it in the trash. “So, welcome to my apartment, I guess.”
She looks over my shoulder. “It’s nice. Tidier than I expected.”
I capture her mouth and brush a slow teasing kiss. “You want the tour?”
“Sure. If the tour involves your bedroom. And maybe a drink.”
“I think I can manage that.” Despite the workout we’ve just had, I can’t help but go even more caveman on her. I scoop her into my arms and carry her through to my bedroom, dropping her to the bed.
She stretches out, her golden waves splaying against the dark gray of my sheets, her fingers digging into the soft fabric, her legs falling wide open.
“Okay, I’m gonna get us the drinks because if I stay here with you looking like that for more than five seconds, I won’t be going anywhere ever again.”
“So join me.”
“I will. With our drinks. What do you want?”
“What you got?”
“I can still make a whisky sour.”
Her eyes pop wide. “Oh my god. You remember?”
“It was always your favorite cocktail.” I hold her gaze for a moment longer and then duck from the bedroom.
Aware I’m naked, I lower the blinds and then turn my attention to making our drinks, pouring whisky into the cocktail shaker. The sheets rustle next door like Savannah’s climbing into the bed. I nearly spill the measure as the reality of what’s happening hits me.
Savannah is here. Naked. In my bed.
I internally cartwheel as I add the lemon juice and syrup, and then shake.
Taking two glasses from the freezer, I give earlier me a pat on the back for being so uncharacteristically organized, add crushed ice, and pour over the honey liquid. The ice cracks and settles.
Time for round two. And three, and four thousand.
Because now we’re in this, it can never fucking end.