Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Her orgasm builds, her eyes shedding tears. She loves me, I can see it in the way she gazes into my soul. And she doesn't even know how much this means, what this is.
"Sweet, sweet Tessa. So beautiful wrapped around my cock, my finger inside that pretty little ass. I want to claim every inch of you, sweet girl. Are you ready for me?" I gnash down on my lip, my fingers speeding up against her clit as her orgasm rushes closer, my cock stiffening as I hit a deep spot inside her.
"I want all of you, Tessa. Show me how much this pussy needs me." My words throttle through her, her orgasm coming fast as she falls over, losing herself in me, quaking and shivering and crying in a violent storm on top of me.
My lips trail across her face, hips pumping as I lick away her tears, suck at her throat, and whisper, "I'm yours, Tessa." She clamps down on my bottom lip, catching me in a kiss with long, languid strokes that send fireworks up my spine. She crawls up my body, arching against me, grinding her core against me until another orgasm begins to build.
"I'm gonna lose my mind with you." I suck at her ear, hands sliding between us as I stoke her swollen clit and then come deep inside of her.
I'm mesmerized by the sight of her, her face soft with pleasure, as I push my fingers into her mouth. My eyes darken with desire as they fall on the heavy flesh of her breasts, cups still pushed down and propping them out. "Feels like I've waited a lifetime to meet you. Don't wanna waste a fucking minute." I pull her down, kissing her, molding her against me, sucking all the air out of her lungs. "You're mine now, Tessa.”
Fresh tears trail down her cheeks as she nestles against my hard body. She snakes her fingers across my chest, cuddling closer into me.
“Stay with me tonight–in my bed?" I rumble at her ear.
She answers the only way she can. "Yes, Sawyer."
And for the first time since the fire a decade ago, the heat inside my chest doesn’t feel like something destroying me.
It feels like something alive.
Chapter 15
Tessa
one week later
The firehouse smells like smoked brisket, cinnamon rolls, and whatever Axel burned on the grill but refuses to admit he burned.
String lights stretch across the rafters. Folding tables crowd the bay doors. Someone’s kid is chasing a dalmatian puppy in circles around the ladder truck while three firefighters argue about cornhole scoring like it’s a federal offense.
It’s loud. Messy. Alive.
And I’m standing in the middle of it holding a paper plate of potato salad like I belong here.
Lacee grips my hand, tugging me toward the dessert table. “They made brownies with caramel inside,” she whispers like it’s classified information.
I laugh. “Lead the way, boss.”
She beams at that and pulls me through the crowd, weaving between boots and turnout coats and coolers. She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t question. Her fingers are warm and sure around mine.
She chose me faster than I was prepared for.
The first time I braided her hair for her dance class, she studied herself in the mirror and said, “You do it better than Dad.”
The first time I showed up at her recital, she ran into my arms before she ran to Sawyer.
And tonight, she’s wearing a little sundress and keeps introducing me to people as, “This is Tessa. She lives with us.”
Lives with us.
The words still make my chest tighten.
“Don’t eat too much sugar,” Sawyer calls from across the bay, his voice carrying easily over the noise.
Lacee rolls her eyes dramatically. “He says that but then he eats half the brownies.”
“I heard that,” Sawyer calls.
I glance over at him.
He’s leaning against the side of Engine Two, arms folded, sleeves pushed up. The evening light cuts across his shoulders. He’s laughing at something Ash says, head tipped back, throat exposed.
He doesn’t look braced anymore.
He looks open.
When he catches me staring, his mouth curves slowly.
That look isn’t new. But it’s different now. There’s no apology in it. No restraint.
Just claim.
My stomach flips.
Lacee tugs my arm again. “Come on.”
We load up two brownies and I wipe caramel off her fingers with a napkin. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t stiffen.
She leans into me like it’s natural.
“Do you think Dad’s happy?” she asks suddenly.
The question lands soft but heavy.
I crouch a little so we’re eye level. “Yeah,” I say honestly. “I do.”
She studies my face like she’s checking for cracks.
“He laughs more.”
“He does.”
“He doesn’t get that quiet look as much.”
My throat tightens slightly. “You notice that?”
She nods seriously. “He was always sad about mom before.”
Mom. The word still carries weight. Not sharp. Not accusing. Just real.
I don’t flinch. I don’t rush.
“I think loving someone new doesn’t make the old love smaller,” I say carefully.