Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Briar’s eyes go wide.
Her ex sputters. “You—you can’t just—”
But I’m done. He’s not worth another second. I turn my back on him and walk straight to Briar. She steps toward me like she forgot how her legs work.
“Saxon…” she whispers, voice shaking. “What did you just—”
I stop in front of her, chest still heaving from adrenaline, from anger, from fear I don’t want to admit out loud.
“I meant it,” I say quietly.
Her breath hitching is the only sound I hear.
“Saxon… you didn’t have to—”
“I did.”
Her lips part. “You really meant it?”
Everything inside me snaps.
I step in close, too close, crowding her back toward the side of the ambulance. My hands settle on either side of her hips, caging her in—not touching, but claiming the space around her like it’s my territory.
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, voice scraping the air, “I’ve been trying not to kiss you since the day you set off that damn alarm.”
Her breath shudders.
“And I’m done pretending.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond. I grab her waist. Hard. She gasps as I pull her into me, her chest hitting mine, her breath crashing into my throat in a sharp, broken sound that goes straight to my sanity. Her hands fly to my shirt, gripping the fabric at my ribs like she needs something to hold onto or she’ll fall.
I lean in. Slow. Calculated. Deadly.
Her mouth tilts up, lips parted, eyes wide and hungry and terrified in the best way. Then I kiss her. Hard. Deep. Claiming. She makes a sound—half gasp, half moan—that destroys whatever restraint I had left.
My hands slide up her sides, fingers digging into the soft curve of her waist, dragging her closer until her body melts against mine. She fists my shirt, pulling, needing, opening for me in a way that steals every ounce of oxygen in my lungs.
I kiss her like I’m starving. She kisses back like she finally stopped fighting gravity. Her lips are warm, desperate, perfect. Her breath mixes with mine, hot and frantic. Her body presses into me like she belongs there.
“Saxon…” she breathes against my mouth, voice shaking, “oh my God—”
“I know,” I rasp, kissing her again, deeper, pushing her gently but firmly against the ambulance. “I know, sweetheart.”
Her hands slide up my chest to my shoulders, then to my neck, then into my hair. I groan.
She jerks at the sound, shivering.
I break the kiss only long enough to drag my mouth down her jaw, across the warm line of her throat, tasting smoke and sweat and something so sweet it makes my head spin.
She gasps and arches into me.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur against her pulse. “Say the word and I’ll walk away.”
She doesn’t say it. Instead, she pulls me closer. Her hands slide under the hem of my shirt, fingers skimming the skin of my lower back. My breath breaks.
“Briar…” I choke out.
She lifts my shirt higher, tugging it up in her fists, palms flattening against my stomach, warm and shaking and curious. My hips slam into hers. I don’t mean to. It just happens. Instinct. Need.
She gasps, gripping me harder.
“Inside,” she whispers, voice barely a breath. “I want you alone—”
I grab her hips, lifting her slightly, pressing her fully against me.
Her legs almost wrap around me before she catches herself on my shoulders. I kiss her again—hard, long, devastating—hands sliding down to the top of her thighs, dragging her tight against my body. Her shirt shifts under my hands, riding up, exposing skin that feels like fire beneath my palms. She moans into my mouth.
I answer with a groan, rough and helpless.
Clothes start to move.
Her fingers fist my shirt and yank it higher. My hands slide under the hem of hers, palms flattening on warm skin. Her breath breaks. Her knees buckle. I hold her upright.
“I’ve wanted this,” I murmur against her lips, “longer than you know.”
“Saxon…” she whispers, desperate. “Please.”
I kiss her until the world disappears.
Until the fundraiser, the hotel, the smoke, the firefighters, the entire damn town fall away and the only thing that exists is the heat between us and the way her body feels pressed against mine.
Her shirt inches upward under my hands. My fingers roam the curve of her waist, the line of her hips, the dip of her back. Skin on skin. Hot. Soft. Addictive.
She trembles.
I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then the hollow beneath her ear, tasting her with a hunger that borders on madness. Her thighs press together. I slide my hands lower, gripping her firmly, pulling her against me again.
She gasps. Lifts her hips. Seeks me.
And for a second—I forget about air. I forget about rules. I forget about everything but her. We’re seconds away from losing control. Seconds from stripping down the rest of the way, audience be damned. Seconds from crossing a line we’ll never come back from.