Page 26 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
I’m so close, my body is so tense, I’m so full and ready that I can barely breathe as I feel the orgasm beginning to build, tightening every muscle in my body….
Ding-dong.
What?
Ding-dong.
The doorbell slams through my dream like a wrecking ball, dragging me out of it just as my orgasm is about to crash over me. I bolt upright, heart hammering thighs clenched and breath ragged.
“Oh my God,” I groan, flopping back into the pillow and covering my face with both hands.
Wait? Pillows? Where did they come from? It takes a while to realize Noah must have brought them, but that isn’t what matters at the moment.
What kind of sick, twisted universe lets a woman get that close and then yanks the dream out from under her like some bad joke?
A small voice scoffs in my head;if you want it so much, why did you stop him?
Another knock, three firm, polite taps this time, makes me mumble incoherent, nothing under my breath as I sit up and yank Noah’s too-big cotton shirt tighter around me. My legs are still shaky. My skin is flushed. And let’s be honest—some very real heat is still very much happening between my thighs.
“Coming!” I call out, even though I’m 80% sure my voice cracks like a hormonal teenager’s.
I stumble out of Noah’s couch and trudge barefoot to the front door. I open it with a groggy blink and a breathless, “Hi—?”
And then I freeze.
Because standing on the porch is what might be the most attractive couple I’ve ever seen in real life. The woman is glowing in that "I’ve got my life together and also probably bake from scratch" way, her honey-brown hair twisted up in a messy bun, one hand gently rocking the baby carrier she’s got slung over one arm.
Next to her is a man who seems like he walked straight off the cover of a military romance novel—broad shoulders, close-cropped dark hair, jaw cut from stone covered in a beard.
His stance screams intimidation, and his eyes flick over me in a sweep that makes me suddenly very aware of my bare legs, wild hair, and the fact that I probably still have dream sweat on my upper lip.
The baby coos softly.
The woman’s eyes widen, but her smile never falters. “Hi! I’m so sorry to barge in like this, but we’re friends of Noah. Is he in? I’m Emily. This is my husband Knox and our little guy Maddox.”
I blink. I try to respond. Words don’t come.
I’m too busy calculating how long I’ve been moaning in my sleep before that bell rings. Did they hear me? Were they standing out there the whole time?!
She cocks her head. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah!” I force out with a quick breath and a smile that feels more like a grimace. “Yes, totally fine. Just… just woke up. Uh. Yes, Noah should be in!”
The baby lets out a squeal-sharp, delighted, like he’s having the time of his life at seven in the morning. I blink, the sound cutting through the fog in my head like a splash of cold water.
Emily’s smile holds steady, but her gaze flickers- just for a breath- down my borrowed and oversized shirt, my bare legs, and then back up to my face, which is probably still wearing the shape of my pillow.
Meanwhile, her husband stands silent beside her, his arms crossed and posture loose in that controlled, intimidating kind of way. He doesn’t say anything, but I swear one eyebrow lifts a hair. Barely. Like he’s clocking everything.
“You sure you're okay?” Emily asks gently, like she’s unsure if I’m hungover, heartbroken, or just halfway to feral.
“Y-yeah!” My voice cracks on the first syllable, high and too bright. I tug at the shirt and try to force a smile through the thrum of heat rising in my cheeks. “Just, uh… startled.”
Her head tilts like she understands, but the glimmer in her eyes says she’s filing this entire scene away for later.
“We were dropping Maddox at preschool,” she adds casually, “and figured we’d check on Noah first. See how things held up.”
Preschool.
