Chapter 10
TEN
brENTON
Wind slams against the firehouse bay doors hard enough that even Cruz looks up from the table, eyebrows raised. Snow swirls under the streetlights outside like white fire, visibility dropping by the second.
But none of that is what has my pulse thundering.
It’s Greer.
Greer kissing me like she couldn’t breathe without me.
Greer shoving an ice pack at Holt and running to handle guests like her heart wasn’t racing.
Greer telling me she’s scared too.
Greer looking at me like I’m already hers and she hasn’t decided whether that’s allowed.
And I walked away again.
Because I didn’t know if I was stable enough — reliable enough — to deserve a woman like her.
But the look on her face when I pulled back…
The hurt there.
The confusion.
I can’t stop seeing it.
“Just go,” Cruz says without looking up from his cards.
I blink. “Go where?”
He scoffs. “My dude. If I have to yell the words ‘go to your lodge girl’ across this firehouse, I will.”
I tense. “It’s complicated.”
“No it isn’t. You’re a firefighter, not a poet. You don’t need metaphors. You need to show up where your heart is trying very hard to drag you.”
“I can’t just—”
“Yes,” he says. “You can. Before the roads close completely. Before you talk yourself into sabotaging this again.”
I glare. “I’m not sabotaging.”
“You are sabotaging like it’s your second job.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I told her I needed time.”
“And did it help? Are you better now? Emotionally stable? Enlightened? Becoming one with the mountain?”
I groan. “No.”
“Then go.”
“But the storm—”
“Is why you should go,” he says. “People say stupid things before storms. You said stupid things before this one. Go fix it.”
That lands so hard I actually flinch.
Cruz drops the cards onto the table. “Look, man. You want her. She wants you. And the two of you staring longingly across the lodge lobby like a pair of Hallmark movie extras is making me physically uncomfortable. Fix it.”
I stare at him.
He sighs. “And if you die out there in a blizzard before confessing your feelings, I’m going to be so pissed.”
I leave. I don’t even pretend to hesitate.
Boots. Jacket. Radio. Keys. I’m out the door before my brain can get in the way.
The wind hits like a fist. Snow bites at my cheeks, my eyelashes. The world is white and wild and loud, but the lodge glow pulses through the chaos like a heartbeat pulling me in.
I take the path on foot. The truck would slide on the ice. My boots crunch through drifts, every step driven by one thought. Greer.
By the time I reach the lodge side entrance, my breath is harsh, my palms sweating inside my gloves, adrenaline shaking through me.
I push inside.
Warm air hits me like a wall. The hallway is empty except for garland drifting slightly in the draft.
I head toward the ballroom first — instinct, maybe — but it’s dark. No flicker of fairy lights. No soft music. No Greer.
Then I check the lobby.
No Greer.
Just Holt carrying a tray of cocoa with the air of someone who has witnessed too much romance and not enough therapy.
He spots me instantly.
“Well, well,” he says. “Look who blew in from the storm. Should I call Greer or are you trying to make a dramatic entrance?”
“Where is she?” I ask.
He jerks his chin toward the back hallway. “Storage room. She’s reorganizing event décor as a coping mechanism.”
I nod and head that direction.
“Hey,” Holt calls after me. “Try not to kiss her where guests can see this time.”
I flip him off without turning around.
His laughter follows me down the hall.
The storage room door is cracked open. Warm light spills into the hallway. I hear soft sounds inside — boxes shifting, paper rustling, a faint frustrated sigh.
My heart does something weird and painful.
I knock lightly.
The rustling stops.
“Come in,” she calls.
I push the door open.
She’s standing near the back shelf, surrounded by boxes of ornaments and ribbons. Her sweater is slipping off one shoulder. Her bun is falling apart. She has a clipboard tucked under one elbow like a shield.
And when she sees me—
She freezes.
“Brenton,” she says softly. “What are—are you okay? Did something happen?”
“Yes,” I say.
She waits.
I close the door behind me.
The storm roars outside, rattling the walls. The room is warm and dim, the only light coming from a soft lamp in the corner. It smells like pine and paper and her.
Her eyes flick over my face, searching. “Why are you—”
“Because I left you hurting,” I say.
She swallows.
“And because I can’t do that again.”
Her breath catches.
I take one step closer. Then another. Her back presses lightly against a shelf, and she doesn’t move away.
“I said I needed time,” I murmur. “But the truth is I needed courage.”
Her lips part.
“And the storm made me realize something.”
“What?” she whispers.
“That I’m more afraid of losing you than I am of trying.”
She makes a soft, broken sound.
I reach out slowly, giving her every chance to stop me, and slide my fingers along her jaw.
She shivers.
“Greer,” I say quietly. “I don’t know how to be perfect for you. I don’t know how to be predictable. I don’t know how to make this uncomplicated.”
Her eyes shine.
“But I do know this—I want you. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long damn time. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”
Her breath stutters. “Brenton…”
I step closer, my body nearly touching hers.
“Tell me to stop,” I whisper. “And I will.”
She doesn’t speak.
Instead, she grabs the front of my jacket and pulls me down into a kiss that obliterates every thought I’ve ever had.
Heat surges through me.
Her mouth is soft and needy and desperate. Her fingers slide into my hair. I groan — embarrassingly loud — and press her back against the shelf, kissing her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.
She gasps into my mouth. I kiss that sound too.
My hands slide down her sides, over her hips, gripping her like I finally found something I’ve been searching for without knowing it.
She arches into me. Her breath breaks.
The kiss deepens. Grows hotter and hungrier.
Her hands tug at the hem of my shirt. Mine slip under her sweater to warm skin. She moans — a soft, helpless sound that nearly brings me to my knees.
“Brenton,” she whispers into my ear. “I want—”
She cuts herself off with a shaky inhale.
I pull back just enough to see her eyes.
Wide. Dark. Wanting.
“Say it,” I murmur.
She swallows like she’s falling off a cliff in slow motion. “I want you.”
And I’m done.
I kiss her again, harder, lifting her onto the storage table behind her. She gasps, wrapping her legs around my hips, pulling me flush against her.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. I’m drowning in her.
“Greer,” I pant against her neck, “if we start this—”
“I don’t want to stop,” she says, voice trembling.
Lightning shoots through me.
I slide my hands under her thighs, lift her slightly, press her deeper against me. My throbbing cock nestles against the apex of her thighs. I grind against her, and she moans. It’s a sinful, tempting sound that undo every piece of sanity I possess.
Her sweater slips off one shoulder. I kiss that exposed skin, trailing my lips and tongue as I explore each new piece.
I lower my head more, pressing kisses over the curve of her breasts.
She trembles. “Brenton…”
I slide the straps of her bra aside. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Her fingers slip under the hem of my shirt again.
My control snaps.
I tug her bra off and toss it aside. I capture one of her nipples in my mouth and she throws her head back.
“Oh God.” She slides her hands into the back of my hair, pulling me closer. “Brenton. Brenton!”
Fuck me, she’s even sweeter—even more responsive than any of my fantasies.
She only lets me tease her for so long. She tugs my head back up to meet hers. I scrape my teeth along the curve of her neck as I do, enjoying the way she shivers.
Once she pulls my mouth back to hers, I kiss her until she’s breathless.
She kisses me back like she’s burning.
I reach for the hem of her sweater.
She lifts her arms.
Clothing starts to come off in slow, desperate pieces. Her skin is warm under my hands. My name is on her lips.
She pulls me closer and closer. We grind against each other, teasing and stoking the fire burning within us.
It’s too much. I pull back enough to slide my hand beneath the waist of her pants. She gasps as my finger delves into her seam, finding her clit. Pressing against me, she unleashes another sound of pleasure.
Her breaths grow faster. Shorter. And as she moves against my palm, her pleasure only fuels my need.
When I have her exactly where I want her, she suddenly grips my wrist.
“Stop.”
I frown and pull back from sucking her earlobe. “Is everything okay?”
“Practically perfect.” She cradles my cheeks in her palms. “But I want to feel you inside me when I come.”
The thought of burying myself inside of her makes my cock ache even more.
My lips curve up. “That can be arranged.”
“Good.”
Giving her one more tongue-tangling kiss, I reach into my wallet to retrieve a condom. Greer reaches for the front of my jeans and I tug her pants down her hips.
Reaching into my boxer briefs, Greer strokes my dick. I groan as she gives me a squeeze and spreads a bead of liquid over the tip.
Closing my eyes, I suck in a breath through clenched teeth as I let her tease me a few seconds longer.
It’s all I can take. I pull her hand aside and roll the condom down over my shaft.
Unable to wait another moment, I push her back agains the wall, lift her hips again and push myself into her with one stroke.
She cries out. I capture the sounds of her pleasure with my kiss as I move inside of her. Angling my hips so I can press more intimately against her clit.
“Brenton,” she cries again, and I can feel the tremble of her orgasm flow through her. Her pussy clenching around me.
It’s too much.
And as I thrust into her once more, cumming harder than I have before, it’s like the whole world finally makes sense.