Page 6 of The Firefighter's Angel
“You okay?” he asks quietly, his stormy brown eyes intently searching my face.
I nod, my breath catching in my throat. “Yeah.”
I swallow nervously, wishing he’d look away and release me from this magical spell, but he doesn’t. His gaze lingers, burning with a fire that heats me up from the inside. His brow furrows slightly, like he’s trying to solve some kind of puzzle, and then his eyes drop slowly to my lips.
My stomach flips. He doesn’t bother to hide the hunger in his eyes. He looks at me like he might devour me. Like I’m a feast he’s been starving for. I should feel nervous. Scared, even.
But I don’t.
For the first time in my life, I don’t want to run from male attention. In fact, it’s the opposite.
My body leans toward him without permission. There’s something about him…something primal. Protective. A spark ignites inside me, something unfamiliar but fierce. Like I’ve needed this for as long as I’ve been alive, but it was buried too deep for me to see until now.
He leans toward me too, but as he does he brushes my injured ankle, and I can’t help jumping a little at the shock of pain.
He blinks, clearing his throat and pulling back quickly. “Let me get that cleaned up for you.”
He grabs a first aid kit from somewhere in the back of his truck, and soon his gentle, strong hands are cleaning the grazed patch of skin on my ankle, then the cut on my arm, pressing bandages to my wounds with the intensity of a surgeon.
I’m a bit embarrassed that my ankle doesn’t really look that bad. I probably could have walked just fine, but I can’t deny it felt nice to be swept up into his arms.
When he’s finished, he drags his gaze back up to my eyes like he’s pulling himself out of a trance.
“I’ve still got a few spots to check,” he says, his voice like a low rumble of thunder. “Need to make sure everything’s cooled off from the lightning strike last week. You wanna come with?”
“Yes,” I reply quickly. Too quickly.
He raises an eyebrow at me, his lips tugging in a teasing smirk.
I clear my throat, trying to recover. “I mean…yeah. I’d rather not be alone.”
“Fair enough,” he murmurs, his smirk turning into a warm smile.
“I’m so sorry to be a bother.” I duck my head to hide the blush spreading across my face. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Look at me,” he commands gently, waiting until I raise my eyes to his. Then he smiles, his eyes never leaving mine. “My name is Daniel. And you’re not a bother.”
There’s something about the way he says it—the gentle reassurance in his beautiful brown eyes—that heals something inside me. I’m overwhelmed with a senseless, irresistible urge to kiss him.
“Thanks…Daniel,” I say in a small voice, averting my eyes again before he reads the indecent thoughts going through my mind.
He doesn’t say anything, just shuts my door gently and rounds the front of the truck. I watch him the whole way. The way he moves—calm, deliberate, like he owns the earth he walks on—it does things to me that I can’t describe.
The engine growls to life, and we pull onto the dirt road. I don’t know where we’re going exactly, but for the first time in what feels like forever…I’m happy to be along for the ride.
I risk a glance at him, ignoring the desperate thudding of my heart. For the umpteenth time in the same hour, my breath catches in my throat.
How can a man be so…dangerously beautiful?
He’s driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. He’s focused on the road, but I can tell he’s aware of me, every breath I take, every glance I sneak.
“So…” he drawls, finally breaking the silence. “Was that guy really your brother?”
“Yeah.” My voice is tight, but I force myself to continue. “My…stepbrother.”
The word feels like poison on my tongue. Unbearably bitter. Daniel’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t say anything, just waits.
I suck in a breath and look down at my hands. “My mom married his dad about six months ago. Lenny. He’s not…awful. But Idon’t trust him. And Lyle…he’s been creeping me out from the second we met. I tried to tell my mom, but she just waves it off. Says I’m imagining things. Overreacting.”
