Page 32 of The Firefighter's Angel
“These are beautiful,” I whisper, nodding at the flowers.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he replies smoothly. “Place smells amazing, by the way. You making me dinner or starting a forest fire in my pants?”
I laugh, swatting his chest playfully as I step back. “Both, apparently.”
He leans in, sniffing lightly at my neck, then groans like a man on the edge. “Mmm. You smell like heaven. Like pine and sugar and something sinful. I think I’d rather skip straight to dessert.”
I arch a brow. “Pretty sure I’m still basting the potatoes.”
“You can baste me instead.” His grin turns wicked.
“Oh my God.” I roll my eyes, giggling, and turn to open the oven. “You are impossible.”
“Damn right,” he says, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, hard chest pressing into my back. “Impossible for anyone else to ever have you.”
“I wasn’t planning on sharing,” I murmur, melting into his hold.
He brushes my hair aside and plants a kiss just beneath my ear. “You smell too good. You know that?”
“You already said that.”
“I’ll keep saying it. Smells like…” He sniffs again, lower this time. “My favorite thing.”
“You’re obsessed,” I whisper, biting my lip as I fight a shiver.
He spins me around, gripping my hips. “Damn right I’m obsessed. Three years, Cindy, and you still make me feel like I can conquer the world.”
“Maybe you can.”
“Maybe I can.” He leans down and noses my cheek. “But right now, I’m starving.”
“For dinner?” I ask, playing dumb.
“For you,” he growls.
The way he says it…
It’s feral.
And I like it.
I shiver, sliding my hands up his chest slowly. “You sayin’ you wanna eat me for dinner?”
He flashes that slow, predatory smirk that always ruins me. “I’m saying forget the steak. I’m feasting on you.”
He grabs my waist from behind and spins me around. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you see stars.”
He hoists me up against the counter, roughly pushing my dress up to my waist. “Damn, you were ready for me, weren’t you?” he asks gruffly, slowly running his palm over my bare ass.
“Always am.”
He growls. I hear the sound of his belt buckles snapping and before I know it, I can feel his tip pressing against my entrance. “Who owns this pussy?” he asks, his voice sending chills through me.
“You do,” I say quickly. “It’s yours, all yours.”
He chuckles darkly. “And who makes you feel good?” He slides himself through my slick folds, teasing me the way he knows will make me beg.
“You do! Please, Daniel, I need—”
