Page 17 of The Fire We Crave

Thinking of walking, I hope Quinn’s foot is okay.

I feel like such a dick, smashing a fucking plate because that fucking butter dish was sliding all over the place, making it hard to scoop up and spread. That on its own is bad enough. But I caused her to bleed after I promised myself that another Moran sister would not get hurt on my watch.

And even if those two things alone didn’t add up to me being a douchebag, I got a boner handling her feet.

Her fucking feet.

Pretty things with clipped toenails and polish in turquoise.

They were soft and smooth with toes ripe for sucking and soles ripe for fucking.

Had a thing for feet my entire life.

Of course, hers are the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Bet they’d look amazing in a pair of open-toed, heeled sandals.

There’s maybe a foot and a half height difference between us, which means I’d have to put her on a box so I could bend her over and fuck her, standing up, with her naked except for the heels.

I’d tease her and edge her and fuck her until she came so hard. Then, I’d get her to lie down on her back and dig thoseheels of hers into my quads while I jerked off. Maybe get some cum on her shins and watch it slide down over the straps of her shoes onto her feet.

Her skin was so fucking soft and tan and glistening, she must spend time exfoliating and moisturizing.

My cock responds, getting hard beneath the table. It pushes painfully against my zipper at the very idea of it.

Life is fucking unfair.

“You up to going on that, Smoke?” Butcher asks.

I look up at my president fast. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, daydreaming over Quinn’s feet, when I should have been paying attention and listening in. “What?”

Atom looks at me carefully, as if studying what the fuck is wrong with me. “A ride out, to find where Lev Zakharov is staying. With me and Wraith.”

I touch the dressing across my ribs. “Can’t go out on my bike yet. Too much strain on the burn, but if we’re taking the van or trucks, count me in.”

“These fuckers aren’t playing fair,” Butcher says. “They’re cowards for going after women and playing mind games. They need knocking back a peg or two. Thought we did it that night when they came for my daughter. But we’re gonna do it head-on. We’re not going to hide. And we’re not going to stoop to their level. We’re gonna remember we’re Iron fucking Outlaws.”

Butcher goes on for a minute or two longer. Catfish has some admin about plumbing maintenance in our clubhouse bedrooms, and then we’re done.

“What was that about?” Atom asks when we step outside.

“What was what about?”

Atom tips his head in the direction of the room we hold Church in. “Gapping out like that. It seemed like you were a cross between bored and disinterested. You still back on that hillside?”

Of course, that’s where Atom would go. And I realize that, for a hot moment, my head was blissfully free of any thoughts of fire and lost friends.

“Something like that,” I say. I don’t want to admit my thoughts were wholly consumed with Quinn and what I’d like to do with her.

“You know, the club would cover any expenses if you wanted to see a therapist or some shit to help you process what happened.”

“I’ve got cover from work, but I’m gonna quit.”

“Quit therapy?”

I shake my head. “No, the job.”

I hadn’t even thought about the words until I said them. But as soon as they’re out in the open, I realize I want them. I’m going to quit the job before they can fire me, or find me responsible, or pack me off with a whole bunch of newbies for retraining or some shit.

“Smoke jumping or firefighting?” Atom asks.

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