Page 43 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
“I guess he has a bed for tonight, better not intrude.”
I still can’t say a word.
I trail him back into the kitchen, the air thick with the scent of chamomile and the faint trace of him; wood, pine, andsomething warm and masculine that sinks deep into my lungs. My mug still sits where I left it, cold and untouched,
His eyes flick toward the mug, then back to me. “You couldn’t sleep?” he says, his voice low, almost gentle, not quite a question.
I nod, my throat too tight for words; I’m too aware of him. All I can see is how his eyes drag over me slowly, sensually. The way his gaze skims from my bare feet to the soft curve of my hips, lingering along the thin strap of my camisole, up to the wild mess of my hair.
My skin flushes, prickling hot, my pulse skittering as if his eyes alone could set me on fire, and when it happens, I don’t miss the sharp, unmistakable shift in his body as his length swells deliciously.
His breath comes slower, deeper, and there’s no mistaking the hard line pressing against the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants. His arousal strains against the cotton, impossible to miss, and God help me, the sight makes the ache low in my belly twist even tighter.
Why am I holding back so much? Why deny myself of the one thing I haven't let myself want in a long time.
I haven’t let anyone get close to me this way since Ethan’s death; it had been years since I trusted my body to someone else’s hands and longer still since I trusted myself to want it.
I don’t mean to let Noah get to me either, but he makes my breath catch, my skin flush, and my heart race without trying so hard. He hasn’t asked anything of me. No pressure, no expectations. But I still want him so much.
I raise my gaze to his, and I tremble inside at how he watches me; his gaze roams over me as though he wants to unravel me, peel the clothes from my body until I’m bare in front of him. His presence doesn’t just stir my body, it wakes something in me I thought had gone quiet for good.
My gaze drifts to his mouth, firm, slightly parted, and he looks as if he’s holding back as much as I am. My fingers itch to touch him. I clench my inner walls, trying to smother the throb that’s been building slowly, insistently, ever since he walked in.
It isn’t just lust. It’s the hunger to feel again…reallyfeel. Not with guilt shadowing every beat of it, not with fear trailing behind.
Justmeand this moment. Me reclaiming something I buried when life demanded I be a mother instead of a woman. My lips part, but no sound comes yet. The words in my mind hover like smoke, fragile and warm and terrifying.
So, I breathe and stare at him. At the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the stillness of someone who would wait forever if I asked.
And suddenly, I’m not afraid of wanting.
I lift my eyes, locking onto his. My voice barely makes it past the tangle of heat and want tightening my chest.
“I want to kiss you.”
His jaw flexes, a sharp flicker of restraint flashing behind his eyes. And I wait-breath held, body burning, pulse stuttering.
Chapter twelve
Noah
“Iwant to kiss you.”
For a second, I wonder if I’ve imagined it, if I’ve let my own damn mind twist her voice into the one thing I’ve been aching to hear all day. My breath snags, something quiet and unmistakable stirring low in my gut. I look at her closely. Because I need to be sure.
“Are you sure? I mean, I want to, but…” The words slip out rougher than I mean them to, scraping up from somewhere deep, where all the control I’ve been holding onto is wearing thin.
She doesn’t speak, not at first. Just this small shift, barely there, her teeth catching her bottom lip like she’s steadying herself. Her eyes find mine and hold, unblinking and unguarded, and then she nods slowly.
That nod wrecks me and throws all my reasoning out of the door. Everything inside me tightens and pulls, snapping the lastthread of distance I’ve been gripping. I should not be touching her, should not be giving in to this; Josie should be on my mind.
Instead, I step in close, still giving her space to change her mind because I know the minute I touch her, there will be no going back. She doesn’t step back even as the distance between us narrows; her breath stirs against my chin, soft and uneven, and I can feel the tremble in the air between us.
My hand lifts, fingers brushing her jaw, light at first, testing the way her skin feels under mine.
“If I kiss you…I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.” My voice sounds hoarse even to my ears. “It’s not too late for me to walk out of that door."
She closes her eyes and leans into the touch, and that simple movement steals the ground from under me, alongside whatever restraints I’m still clinging to. My thumb traces the line of her cheek, slow enough to feel the warmth rising beneath her skin.
