Page 21 of The Spark Between Us

I surrender.

My hands finally release from their death grip at my sides, one moving to her waist while the other cups her cheek. Her skin is impossibly soft beneath my rugged palm. I feel her sharp intake of breath and see her eyes widen in momentary surprise before she squints them with something that mirrors the hunger I can no longer hide.

"This," I murmur, just before closing the final distance between us. "This is why."

And then I'm kissing her in the middle of an empty high school classroom, all regrets temporarily banished by the feel of her lips against mine.

The kiss starts gentle—a question, a test—but that lasts all of three seconds before Ellie makes a soft sound against my mouth and presses closer. Her hands fist in the front of my shirt, pulling me down to her, and any remnants of restraint I might have vanished like smoke.

I keep kissing her, my hand sliding from her cheek to the nape of her neck, fingers threading through her soft hair. She tastes like coffee and something sweet and kissing her feels like the first clear breath after years of drowning. I'm vaguely aware that I'm holding her too tightly, that this has escalated too quickly, but I can't seem to rein myself in.

Ellie matches my intensity, rising on her tiptoes, her body flush against mine. One of her hands releases my shirt to slide up my chest and around my neck, pulling me closer still, if that's even possible. I walk her backward until she meets the edge of the desk, never breaking the kiss. My hands span her waist, lifting her slightly to sit on the desktop, bringing us more level with each other.

She makes another sound—a soft moan that sends heat rushing through my entire body—and I know I need to stop this now before we cross lines that can't be uncrossed. With tremendous effort, I pull back, breaking the kiss but keeping my hands on her waist, not quite ready to let her go completely.

We're both breathing hard, staring at each other like we can't quite believe what just happened. I know I should apologize, should step back, should reestablish those necessary boundaries. But the sight of Ellie—lips swollen from my kisses, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded with desire—makes it impossible to regret what I've done.

"Well," she says finally, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "That was... informative."

Despite everything—the gravity of what just happened, the potential consequences, the lines crossed—I find myself chuckling. "Informative?"

"Mmm," she nods, her hands still resting lightly on my chest. "Very educational. Though I think I might need a repeat demonstration to fully grasp the concept."

"Ellie," I say, her name half warning, half plea. "We shouldn't have done that."

"And yet we did," she points out reasonably. "And the world didn't end. My dad didn't burst through the door with his fire axe. You're still a firefighter. I'm still a grown woman who knows exactly what she wants."

Her directness leaves me momentarily speechless. "This is complicated," I say finally.

"It doesn't have to be," she counters, her fingers idly playing with the top button of my shirt. "I like you, Grant. I have for a long time. And unless I'm completely misreading the situation—which, based on that kiss, seems unlikely—you like me too."

"Of course I like you," I admit, the understatement of the century. "That's never been the issue."

"Then what is?" she challenges. "My age? Dad? The job? None of those things change how we feel."

I take a deliberate step back, needing physical distance to think clearly. "All of those things matter, Ellie. I'm twenty years older than you. Your father trusts me. The department has rules about fraternization."

"My dad was ten years older than my mom," she argues. "And there's no fraternization because I don't work for the department. I'm a volunteer. As for Dad..." She hesitates. "He cares about both of us being happy. I think he'd understand."

"You don't know that," I counter, though a small part of me wonders about Brock's cryptic comments, his knowing looks, the way he keeps throwing us together.

Ellie slides off the desk, closing the distance I created. "I know that I'm tired of pretending I don't want this. Tired of watching you pull away every time we get close to something real. Tired of being treated like a child when I know exactly what—and who—I want."

The determination in her voice, the clarity in her eyes—it's intoxicating. And terrifying. Because if she's serious, if this is real, then everything changes.

"I could lose everything," I say quietly. "The job, your father's respect, my place here."

"Or," she suggests, her voice softening, "you could gain something new. Something you didn't even know you needed."

She reaches for my hand, twining her fingers with mine. Such a simple touch, yet my legs are shaking. "I'm not asking for promises, Grant. I'm just asking for a chance. For both of us."

I look down at our joined hands—her smaller, softer one fitting perfectly in mine. Everything logical, rational, responsible in me is screaming to pull away, to reestablish boundaries, to protect what I've built here in Cedar Falls.

But there's another voice, one that's been growing steadily louder since Ellie came back to town. One that whispers of possibilities, of connections deeper than friendship or duty, of a future I haven't allowed myself to imagine.

Years of restraint dissolve in an instant. I capture her lips again, but there's nothing slow about this kiss—it's hungry, desperate, unleashed. Her hands are at my shirt buttons, mine sliding up her thighs beneath the sundress.

"Are you sure?" I manage to rasp against her lips.

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