Page 3

CHAPTER TWO

I’m a total mess. A trembling, hot, strung out mess in a matter of seconds. Brock’s mouth is scorching hot. Demanding. Almost brutal in his desperation. Stroke after stroke, his tongue moves against mine, setting off bursts of heat that crackle like fireworks beneath my skin.

Damnit. I had hoped my memories were wrong. But they’re not. It’s just as good as it was that night. It’s spectacular. Holy smoking undie fires.

With my back pressed against the wall, and a mountain of muscle pressed against my front, I’m transported back to the night. The first and only time the towering firefighter kissed me .

I’ve clung to that moment every night for more than a year. Ever night, my face flamed and my core throbbed. But so many times it was a reminder of how far I was outside my comfort zone.

Brock Mitchell is a beast.

Everything about the man is intense. He’s the kind of man that takes what he wants and leaves a trail of melted lace and silk in his wake.

Which my body thinks is just divine. My brain, on the other hand, has a serious problem with that same fact.

Sure, I’ve been around plenty of intense men, but I never let them close. There’s no way I’d ever let them behind my protective shell. Hard lessons aren’t easily forgotten.

But right now, my body is winning because I’m not running away.

I’m leaning in.

God, he’s amazing with his mouth. When Brock tilts my head back and deepens the kiss, my heart pounds even harder.

How is that even possible? What’s happening inside my chest has to be unnatural.

Those hands… yowza. The way he wraps his fingers around my jaw…

When his other hand slides around to my low back, I’m instantly putty under his heated touch. I’m on fire from head to toe. It’s a wonder the wall behind me doesn’t combust.

I should run. I should protest. I should resist. But I’m so not able to do any of those things.

I want one thing. Him touching me. Even if this is the WORST idea ever. Kissing Brock is foolish. I count off the reasons in my head. Pathetically, because, even though the list should be long, I can’t seem to make this stop.

I’m not sure if it’s for a minute or an hour, but I let him show me all the delicious things that his tongue is capable of.

I’ll admit, for a good part of that time, I’m consumed with the question—What would he be like in bed?

God. He’d be all animal and heat. Commanding words and rough hands. Bites and licks. Pleasure and pain.

I’ve never dared sleep with a man like Brock. I’ve always played it safe. Nice guys who are squarely in the confident male zone but outside the alpha zone.

The idea of tumbling into bed with Brock is terrifying and thrilling. From the moment we met, everything about him felt off-limits.

He was older. Experienced. He had more rank as a firefighter. And more than anything, he was deadly sexy in a way that I had no experience with handling. Brock is the alpha of his kingdom. And I’m sure that includes his bed too.

To say I’m tempted by the man is the understatement of the century.

Which might not be a problem if I die from this kiss.

With a rough intake of breath, he breaks away so fast my eyes fly open. Our chests are like pistons in a runaway race car. His dark green eyes are as wild as mine feel.

“Shit,” he growls as he shoves his hand in his hair. “I was out of line.”

I shake myself free of his grasp. Inside, I’m an earthquake. I’m so rattled that I can’t speak. My throat is spasming as reality sets in—This can never happen again.

All those months ago, I’d been terrified to go on a blind date. It felt so reckless. But thanks to an insistent gal pal, I somehow wound up the next night at the Seafarer Grill.

It was supposed to be easy. We had things in common. Firefighting. Running. An affinity for living near the ocean.

I talked myself into taking a chance on meeting Brock. It was just one measly date. And I wasn’t ready for anything more. So, I’d go and break my dateless spell just to make Melissa happy.

Dating was easy for her, but one too many bad guys had crossed my path.

Just one date. It was my mantra the whole day. One date wasn’t getting involved. We’d just have an appetizer and a drink. Or so I reasoned with myself the whole drive to meet him.

Only nothing about that night was measly. Just like nothing about Brock is measly if the feel of that ridge against his thigh means something.

I’m completely certain that nothing about him is forgettable.

Brock is one of those men that makes gravity buckle…

I fell hard for his hungry gaze—right into his arms.

It was just a moment of weakness. At least, that’s how I rationalized my way back to sanity.

That night when our chat turned intimate and he backed me up against the railing on the restaurant patio, he kissed every last brain cell out of my head.

What I didn’t expect was to have a full blown panic attack in the bathroom mere seconds later.

The memory of that awful, terrified feeling is seared into my heart. A girl is never the same after something like that. Especially me.

My mind snaps back to reality, the memory vanishing in a poof. My eyes try to refocus as I follow his pacing. His running shoes squawk on the tile at every turn. “Fuck, Ellis, I won’t let it happen again. I mean it.”

“G-good,” I stutter as I straighten my shirt and look anywhere but at his eyes.

He slams his hands on his desk and drops his head muttering about his lack of control. When he raises his eyes to me, they’re like two glinting emeralds. Hard and full of resolve. “We won’t have any reason to work alone together. I’ll make sure someone else is around at all times.”

“Fine. Sure. Whatever,” I rasp out as my throat gets tighter and tighter.

I need to get away from here. My heart is way beyond its speed limit. My hands are clammy. The world looks funny—wavy and narrow, like I’m looking through water in the bottom of a glass.

No. No! This is not happening again.

Barely able to speak, I plead, “Where’s the ladies’ room?”

“Turn left. Third door on the left.”

I jerk open the office door and sprint out, not sure how I’m on my feet and moving when my lungs won’t allow in even a tiny sip of air.

Thank god there’s no one in the bathroom. I hurl myself onto the floor of one of the stalls, praying that no one finds out that I’m out of control. No one can know that I’m a ticking time bomb.

My career will be done.

All because of him.

I’m still gasping when the door of the bathroom slaps the wall. “Avery?”

Oh my god. Ohmyyyygod.

Curling my feet under me, I scoot to the back of the stall. Please don’t let him see me .

But he knows exactly where I am. His running shoes stop in front of the stall, then he hunches down. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he sticks a hand under the stall door and grips my ankle. “Just try to breathe slowly.”

“Wh-what?” I wheeze between gasps.

“Unlock the door so I can help you.”

“No, please, Brock. Just go away.”

“I’ll take it off the hinges. Or climb over. Your choice.”

With a sob, I say, “You wouldn’t.”

His voice pitches low as he tightens his hold on my ankle to reassure me. “Honey, I would.”

Damn him. I knew he wouldn’t let this drop. Given how big and strong he is, I have no doubt he’d rip the door off with his pinky finger or leap over in a single bound.

Now, wouldn’t that just make this whole disaster even worse. My hand is shaking so hard when I reach for the door that it rattles the lock. Brock pushes it open and wedges himself in the tiny stall.

I bury my face in my knees, totally mortified. There’s no way I can look at him ever again. Ever. Job search, here I come. If I live, that is.

Violent shaking contracts my whole body. It’s a panic attack, I tell myself, but it feels like the end of the world.

“Come here,” he says gruffly, and tugs me toward him by my arm. I’m frozen in a little ball, unable to catch my breath. But he doesn’t stop, he just lifts me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me.

The very first thing I register is that he’s so warm. Then I notice that I can smell the tang of salt on his skin. It’s a delicious, earthy, grounding scent. Next to my ear, his heart beats steady and strong.

In a low voice, Brock murmurs, “Slow everything down. That’s it. One breath at a time. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Gently, he strokes my hair, but he doesn’t say anything else. Silent tears leak from my eyes, but I don’t bother to catch them. It would be impossible, like trying to dry up a raging river with a paper towel.

I don’t know how long it takes, but finally, the worst of the attack passes. The shivers go away. My lungs relax.

I’m a mess. Literally. And he’s thinking so hard I can hear it as he silently holds me. I have no clue what to say, I only wish I could vanish in a puff of smoke.