Page 33 of Nanny for the Firefighter

It’s just…her.Bridget looks like that same girl I knew five years ago, and my stupid emotions are getting the better of me just like they did then.

Bridget walks over to me at the kitchen counter, offering a quick pat on the shoulder before she circles the island and heads to the sink.

My empty travel mug is still sitting next to the coffee maker, and she pours the liquid inside for me, humming to herself.

After all this time, she still has such a lovely voice.

Plus, Bridget’s always on her toes about getting me set to leave, and I swear her attention to detail just makes her that much more attractive.

I clear my throat, remembering that she actually asked me something. “I’m fine. Can’t say I’m looking forward to this, but…Hudson’s my best friend. If I can help the guy, then I will.”

Turning around as she screws the lid on my mug, Bridget meets my eyes with a smile.

“You’re a good guy, Mason. And I know Hudson was really panicking about asking. He was jabbering nonstop in the car. And sorry about running a little later. Mom’s grocery delivery came, and I had to help her put it away.”

Laughing lightly, I walk toward Bridget to snag the to-go cup and start making my way into the office.

“Oh, is Saul still dragging those things around? I use him, too, but I really wish the poor guy would just retire.”

Bridget rolls her eyes with a nod. “I know, right? The man is like ninety-two.”

I need to be going as well, and as per usual, spending too much time around Bridget has my entire body thrumming with pent-up energy.

But as I get there, Bridget reaches for the mug at the same moment I do and we collide with each other.

“Oof,” she yelps, her eyes wide. “Shit! Did I get any on you?”

She’s looking me over for spilled coffee, her hands traveling over the length of my shirt as she searches for stains.

Setting the mug down on the counter, I grab her hands, stilling her frantic movements.

“Bridget, I’m fine. The lid was on. All good.”

Stilling, Bridget looks up at me with a crooked smile. Her cheeks swell with a deep pink color as I hold her there, and then I do something so fucking stupid.

Our bodies are inches apart as I guide Bridget’s hands to the counter behind her. The position forces her chest forward, her breasts pressing against me.

I note the slight tremble of Bridget’s hands, and her lips part ever so slightly.

Releasing her hands, I frame Bridget between my arms as I tower over her. She’s trapped between me and the counter, and my erection strains behind my slacks.

Fucking hell, this is bad. I need to get out of here.

But even as I tell myself to leave, I don’t move. I’m frozen there, staring down into Bridget’s beautiful blue eyes.

“You know I really don’t like the brown. Why’d you change it?”

“I…”

Bridget doesn’t offer anything more, and this nagging part of me that finds it impossible to resist her peaks.

“Cat got your tongue, Songbird?”

I’m leaning over her before I realize it, hovering closer and closer as my brain fills with images of Bridget splayed out on the counter like the finest meal.

Bridget’s breaths shudder in and out of her, and I can smell her sweet perfume this close. I’m out of my mind for doing this, and my logical brain is screaming at me to pull up.

I’m enraptured, though. It’s like Bridget has cast a spell on me, and it’s useless to fight the sway she has over me.

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