Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
The steam drifts between us. The night hums softly with distant crickets and wind through trees. For a while, neither of us speaks. We just sit there, inches apart, heat rising between us in more ways than one.
“You embarrassed me tonight,” I say finally.
He nods once. “I know.”
“That’s it?”
“You want me to apologize?”
“I want to know why you did it.”
He looks at the water for a moment, jaw tightening. “Because I didn’t like seeing you up there. Because I wanted to kill every man that laid eyes on you.”
“You didn’t like the bidding.”
“I didn’t like imagining someone else winning.”
“It was dinner, Levi.”
“It wasn’t just dinner.” His voice lowers slightly. “It was them thinking they had a shot.”
I hold his gaze. “And that bothered you?”
“More than I like to admit.”
“Why?”
He exhales slowly. “Because you never felt like something I could lose.”
The honesty steals my breath. “Then why did you?”
He closes his eyes briefly. “I was scared.”
“Of me?”
“Of not being enough.”
The vulnerability cracks something inside me.
“You were always enough,” I say quietly.
His gaze lifts slowly. “Then why did you leave?”
“Because I wanted to know who I was without you.”
“And?”
“And I found out I still wanted you.”
The silence hangs between us, heavy and charged before the distance between us disappears when he reaches out and pulls me closer. His hand settles at my waist, warm under the water.
“You could’ve come back sooner,” he says softly.
“You could’ve come get me.”
The truth stings both of us. The water ripples as I shift closer, until my knees brush his. The contact feels different tonight. Not reckless. Not fueled by jealousy or stage lights.
“I don’t want to do this halfway,” I say.
“I don’t either.”
“You don’t get to let me go again.”
His hand tightens slightly. “I won’t.”
“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
The way he says it—steady, unflinching—makes my pulse spike. He brushes a strand of damp hair back from my face.
“I won’t let you go again,” he says quietly.
I hold his gaze. Something shifts in his expression. He lifts me slightly, guiding me to sit sideways across his lap beneath the water. His hands settle at my hips as the steam thickens around us.
“You sure?” he murmurs.
“Yes.”
“No pretending. No rules. No running.”
I nod. He leans in, but this kiss is different from the hallway. His mouth brushes mine carefully at first, testing. When I respond, it deepens—but not frenzied.
My fingers slide up his shoulders, feeling the solid strength there.
The years between us don’t feel heavy anymore. They feel bridged. The hot tub hums softly beneath us. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against mine. His hands slide from my hips to my lower back, pulling me closer. The heat between us builds again—but it’s grounded now.
Not desperate.
Not nostalgic.
Just two people finally choosing each other without fear.
After a while, I murmur against his lips, “I’m getting hot.”
“Is that because you’re nestled against me in just your bra and panties?”
“Yes, not at all to do with the steaming hot tub,” I giggle.
Levi lifts me out of the tub then, wrapping me in a towel before covering himself in one. The porch boards are still warm from the day’s sun when he lays me down on the wide wooden planks. He joins me, nestling me into the crook of his arm.
Our fingers brush. Linger. And then intertwine.
“You scared?” he asks quietly.
“A little.”
“Of what?”
“That this feels right.”
He turns his head toward me. “It does.”
“Yeah.”
He squeezes my hand gently.
“This time,” he says, voice low and steady, “I’m not letting fear make decisions.”
“Good.”
“And I’m not letting you build a life without me in it.”
A slow smile touches my mouth. “Bossy.”
“Committed.”
I roll onto my side, facing him.
“You sure you can handle me?” I tease softly.
He smirks faintly. “I’ve been handling you since we were sixteen.”
“Poorly.”
“Improving.”
I laugh quietly. He brushes his knuckles down my arm.
“You’re not a prize,” he says softly. “You’re a partner.”
The correction settles deep. “And you’re not my savior,” I reply. “You’re my equal.”
He nods once. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
We lie there beneath the stars, fingers still laced. And for the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m choosing between the world and him.
I’m choosing both.
And this time—he’s choosing me right back.
His hands cascade down my damp body, fingertips pressing into my skin and then slipping under the waistband of my panties. A moment later he grips my waist and hauls me onto his hard body. My heartbeat hammers wildly as I feel his hard erection pressed against my hips.
“Can you feel what you do to me?”
“Yes, every inch.”
“Does it turn you on?”
“More than words can say,” I admit.
Levi’s touch is fire, a raging inferno that consumes my body and mind. When he touches me all sense of reason evaporates into thin air and all I want is more—more heat, more sensation, more him.
I have so little experience with men, but melting under his possessive fingertips comes shockingly easy. I’m a certifiable tomboy. Men aren’t often on my mind beyond a passing glance, a nod or an eye roll, depending on the day, but the way Levi looks at me—like he wants to eat me—I crave it. I feel alive when his eyes dart across my body. I feel like a woman, something that’s hard to come by when I spend my days at a dirty firehouse consumed with work.