Page 58 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
His forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged, the heat rolling off his skin as if he’s barely keeping himself from coming undone.
“I missed you,” he says, his voice low and hoarse.
My chest tightens, the ache settling deep and sharp; and I restrain myself from touching him, keeping my fingers from brushing the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the stubble I’d dreamed about and cursed in equal measure.
Yes, it feels good to know he misses me like I do him, but that’s not the words I want to hear. It's not the answer I need. I pull back, enough to breathe, letting the air cool between us.
“Missed me?” I repeat, voice quieter than I mean. “After disappearing for five days, Noah?”
The guilt flashes across his face, but there's something else there, too, something deeper. Fear? Regret? I can’t put my finger on it.
He doesn’t speak, just runs a hand through his hair, as though he’s gathering his thoughts, but also, maybe, fighting against something inside.
The tension simmers in the air. I feel the heat, the pull. All of it. I also feel the cracks forming, like something’s being held back. I need to know.
“Why did you do that?” The question feels small, but it covers all the pressure I’ve been carrying. “You just… left. Without an explanation.”
His jaw clenches, and I see it then…the conflict. I see how hard he’s fighting to stay steady, how hard he’s working to keep his distance from me even though his body is betraying him.
I see it, the war behind his eyes, but it doesn’t stop the doubt from creeping in. Maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing with me.
“I—” He stops himself, then exhales a long breath. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
His eyes flick to mine, deep with vulnerability, which I’m not expecting, and it makes my heart race. But there's also that fearagain, simmering under the surface. He didn’t know what he was doing?
“So, what now? Why did you bring me here?” I murmur, my voice shaky with uncertainty. “Is this just about tonight, Noah?”
The way he looks at me, with hearts in his eyes, makes me believe that’s not the case. But that same fear I saw in him spreads through me, curling tight.
He reaches out to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, as though he can no longer resist touching me, or maybe trying to keep himself from falling apart.
“Kate, I—I don’t want to lose you,” he says, and his voice cracks for a moment, before he steadies it. “I'm messed up, I know.. But I can’t stay away.”
There it is; the admission. A crack in the armor. Finally, something real. It doesn't fix the hurt in my chest-but damn, it makes me feel it deeper.
I want to believe him. I want to let go of the walls I've built, but I can't ignore the voice in my head, the one telling me that this might just be a moment for him. A heat-of-the-moment thing that he doesn’t fully understand.
“I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t been thinking about this,” I say, my voice firm, even though my heart is hammering. “But you need to be honest with me, Noah. I don’t play games.”
I have a son. I don’t say it aloud, though.
His gaze hardens, and for a second, I see the old, familiar wall go up. But then he exhales, deep, like a man who’s finally telling himself the truth.
“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice low, almost embarrassed. “Scared of pushing you away. Scared of not being enough. Of not being the man you deserve. Of losing you.”
The words hang between us, fragile. It’s not what I expected, but it’s enough. It’s enough to make me see him in a new light, raw and uncertain but trying.
My resolve softens, but my chest is tight with a mix of relief and uncertainty. “Noah…”
“I’m not asking for a damn thing, Kate,” he says quickly, his voice raw. “I just need you to know I’m here. I’m here with you.”
The warmth that floods through me is undeniable. My fingers reach for his shirt again, pulling him back toward me.
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, but I know I want this too,” I whisper. I don't need him to be perfect, not tonight. I need him tobehere, with me, and help me understand what’s going on in his head.
I lean in again, brushing my lips against his, and he doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. His hands roam my body, pulling me closer as he growls in pleasure.
I can feel the electricity between us, the raw power radiating from his muscles. His kiss is intoxicating, and I want more.
