Page 4 of Her Fire Master (Master Me #5)

L ia

The alarm sounds through the fire station. My heart pumps as I rush through the steps that training ingrained into me. I pull on my turnouts and step into my boots, faster this time than the last three times. My time is improving.

I climb behind the wheel of our fire truck. There are five of us on the crew, and Blaze assigned me the chauffeur job. I know it’s because he thinks I’m not strong enough for the other jobs. Like I didn’t pass the same firefighter test all the rest of them did.

Which is fine. I’ll show them all soon enough. I put on my earmuffs and start the engine and lights.

“Everyone in?” I’m ready to pull out when I hear a bang on the side of the truck.

“Hold up.” The front passenger door swings open.

Terence, who is sitting shotgun with me, looks up in surprise.

“I’m riding up front.” It’s the captain.

Terence moves immediately and Blaze climbs in beside me.

Damn the man. He’s keeping an eye on me.

I swear he’s put himself next to me on every fire to make sure I can do the job. Or maybe he’s trying to prove I can’t.

Well, if he wants to intimidate me, I’m not going to scare so easily.

That’s what all these guys expect. I see the doubt on their faces.

No one here thinks I can handle a serious fire.

In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if hiring me was some kind of equal employment opportunity—or whatever it’s called—some mandate to prove the FDNY isn’t discriminating against females.

In which case, my brother was right and this crew probably intends to haze me until I quit on my own.

So far, in the four tours I’ve worked since I started, the guys haven’t welcomed me into their circle yet.

Aside from our ill-fated poker game, I haven’t been included in any socializing.

Conversations die when I appear. It’s been worse since the poker incident, like now they’re gun-shy about joking with me.

My attempts to fit in have failed. I know how guys shit each other. They’re not acting normal around me.

But I’m going to make sure that, in addition to being capable of the job, I can hang with the worst of them.

“You worried I’m going to cry when I break a nail, Captain?” I challenge as I pull out into traffic, siren wailing.

His sensual lips tighten and a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Shut up and drive, Burke.”

“Yes, sir, that’s what I’m doing.”

Blaze can be a dick, but that doesn’t stop my raging attraction to him. Too bad I have to pick the guy who seems to want me here the least to drool over.

“Just making sure you can really handle yourself.”

Well. At least I know where I stand. I tip my hard hat to him. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

He surveys me with cool blue eyes, but says nothing.

Whatever.

Even my own family thinks I’m incapable of keeping this job.

They never thought I’d land a position in the first place.

When I did finally get hired, my mom cried.

And they weren’t tears of joy. If it wasn’t for the constant encouragement from my cousin Talia, a journalist and environmental activist in Mapleton, a small town outside Chicago, I probably would’ve given up on this dream.

We pull up in front of an old brick building—a Catholic high school.

Arson fire. Set by a student. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I know the mind of a teen pyro.

The flicker of flames light the windows on a lower wing. The captain directs me to the nearest fire hydrant and I line the truck up perfectly, then jump out and start my job of getting the pump in gear.

The captain stays on my ass, letting Scott do the officer-in-command thing, providing initial size-up and forcible entry.

I set the pump to the right pressure and get the water flowing.

We have the fire out in ninety-eight minutes.

Damage reached the second floor, but the sturdy brick and concrete construction kept the building from sustaining structural problems.

I can’t shake the urge to figure out where the fire started—to prove my hunch is correct.

A heavy hand claps down on my shoulder. “Good work, Sparks.”

I turn, hoping it’s the captain, but it’s Scott.

I kick myself for wanting Blaze’s approval so badly.

I know I’m doing a good job and that’s all that matters, right?

So far, I haven’t frozen up once. Even when I wanted to just stand back and watch the flames, my fascination with the destruction is a deadly pull.

It must be that same pull that nudges me about this fire.

The guys are packing the hose back up, and I should be helping, but I slip away for a chance to do some searching on my own. I circle around to the back corner where the fire was biggest.

There, outside a broken window, I find a gasoline can.

“Burke!” the captain calls, jogging over to me. “Why the fuck aren’t you helping pack up the truck?”

“I was just trying to figure out the cause of the fire.” I point out the gasoline can.

He purses his lips. “Don’t touch anything. We’ll leave it for the inspector to investigate.”

I nod.

“And Burke? You’re not an inspector. If you wanted to search out clues, you shoulda been a cop like the rest of your family. Now get back with the team.”

Asshole.

“Yes, sir.”

But then I realize what he revealed. He knows my family. Why does that set off alarm bells? Is he the source of information for my brother’s friend at another station? The one who told him they’re betting on how long I last?

“I don’t need a fucking hero, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat.

I’m not trying to be a hero. I know that’s why most of them are here, but not me. I’m here because I have twin needs that will never be quenched: Fire. And atonement.

Blaze

I smell the scent of sulfur from behind Lia’s closed door and grit my teeth. She’s lighting matches again. That girl seriously needs a talking to. I rap sharply on the door and push it open.

—and then I stop cold.

Or maybe hot is the right word.

Lia’s standing there in a pair of goddamn pink panties, her FDNY t-shirt knotted above her waist.

I gape for one room-spinning moment, then I step in to shut the door. Wait— fuck! I can’t be in a closed room with her— when she’s in her panties!

But I sure as hell can’t leave it open for other fire-fucks to see her this way, either.

Screw it—I kick it closed.

She’s laughing at me now, triumph over my dance with the door evident in her eyes.

“What in the Sam-fuck are you wearing?” I boom, too loud.

Her full lips stretch into a shit-eating grin. She loves seeing my unfortunately full-bodied reaction to the sight of a mere triangle of soft pink fabric covering what must be the sweetest little pussy in the five boroughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re aware of what I’m wearing.”

“Th-those are not regulation,” I sputter. What I mean is that they look like they’re made of a non-compliant material—like polyester or a rayon blend. And yeah, I shouldn’t be looking that close, but I did.

If we run out on a fire tonight and she gets burned, those panties would melt and fuse to her skin.

I force myself to look away. I can’t discuss it with her standing there like that. My self-control will frazzle. “Just… stop playing with fire. Put your pants on.”

“Why, Captain?” the little minx purrs, knowing she has me by the balls. She cocks a hip. “Am I making you... uncomfortable? ”

My fingers twitch. “Put some goddamn pants on before I spank that juicy ass red!”

Oh shit.

I clap a hand over my mouth, then attempt to hide the gesture by rubbing the stubble on my face. I definitely shouldn’t have said that. All this time I’ve been trying to protect her from harassment, and I’m the first asshole to bring it.

Well, I knew that, didn’t I? In reality, I’ve just been trying to protect her from me.

Of course, I can’t tear my gaze from her now, and I watch her eyes grow dark, full lips part.

Her nipples bead up beneath the t-shirt.

“Wow, Captain,” her voice sounds breathy and high.

She reaches one hand between her legs and curls her fingers in.

“That’s kinda hot. Maybe I should take them off for that.

” She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and starts to slowly pull them down.

“Stop it.” I stride forward and catch her wrists. In about two seconds I have her backed against the wall, wrists pinioned in one of my hands.

She’s not breathing. I guess I’m not either.

“Fuck,” I curse. “I’m pretty sure you just lost me my job.” Not that it makes me any more willing to let her go. Unless I see a real protest, I’m seeing this scene through, job be damned.

“No,” she pants. Her eyes are huge, pupils blown. “No one’s losing their job. No one’s going to talk about this.” She licks her lips. “What we’re doing.”

“What are we doing?” My voice is so deep I don’t recognize it.

“Um…” She sways her hips. “Were you going to punish me?”

Victory flushes through me. I can’t fucking believe it. I thought I saw the signs of interest—that authority turned her on—but to hear her actually say it…

Damn.

This girl can’t be real.

I don’t need any further encouragement. “Yeah, I am.” I back up enough to spin her around and plant her two hands on the wall. “Push that ass out, baby. You’ve had this coming for a while now.”

She’s clearly not afraid. She inches her feet away from the wall and hollows her back.

I bite back a groan.

The panties are tiny—satin and lace cutting across only half of her delicious ass. I gather the fabric up and thread it between her ass cheeks, pulling it taut against her clit and anus.

The little oh! she makes sends my already hard dick surging against my regulation pants.