by Zoe York
He’d been dreaming of her breasts, and now they were pressed against him. Bare swells in a threadbare tank top. He dragged his mouth down her neck to her collarbone, then her fingers tightened in his hair, bringing his lips back to hers.
Her kisses were like oxygen, a rush of light filling him.
He could so easily sink into her. Rub against her until she shattered for him. He remembered the first orgasm he gave her in the hotel room, even before she took off her panties, and he wanted that again.
The problem was, he wanted far too much. He could gorge himself on her right now if he wasn’t careful.
Tits in his face, nipples in his mouth. The low, angsty groan she let out when he sucked her flesh into his mouth would last him all week, until he could be back in her arms. That’s what he’d tell himself, that he could get drunk on her and then sleep it off. That it would keep him.
But it wouldn’t.
He’d be thinking about her while he was working, race back to her at every possible turn.
So after the next long, drugging kiss, he slid down her body, just enough to disengage his hips from hers. He pressed his face into her cotton-covered chest, inhaled deeply, then forced himself to sit up.
He didn’t leave her flat on her back and confused, though. He helped her up and curled her into his side. “Wow.”
She smiled and kissed his neck. “We both needed that?”
“I guess so.” He exhaled and laughed, then caught her fingers in his, lifting them so he could kiss her knuckles lightly. “Listen, I want to make you feel good. And I want to take my time. I want to hold on to you forever, and I know I have a twenty-four-hour shift tomorrow.” He laughed again, and then immediately groaned. “When it comes to you, I’m pretty hot-blooded. I didn’t realize how much you affected me after we hooked up—I swear, I didn’t. But now I’ve spent a…healthy amount of time with those thoughts. And whatever boundaries you want, I’ll understand. Hell, I think I’m asking for a few of my own right now, actually.”
“Boundaries?” She whispered the word like a question, her gaze searching his face, but her expression was soft and understanding. “You want to take it slow?”
He nodded.
“To protect yourself as much as me.” She blinked in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t see that coming.”
“I don’t want to wreck what we have. Go too far, cross a bridge we can’t uncross. Let’s see where kissing takes us this week, how does that sound?”
“It sounds nice.” Another whisper, and she rose on her knees beside him.
He dipped his head and tasted her mouth again. A long, leisurely sip.
She arched against him and he hauled her on top of his body, spreading her legs wide around him.
Crude, wicked thoughts spiralled out of control in his mind.
“It’s hard to stop,” he said roughly. Between them, his erection throbbed.
She rocked her hips slowly, then came to a stop. “We’ll go slow.”
He fisted his hand in her hair and tugged gently. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Yep.” She kissed him softly. “Let go of me and I’ll grab us some cozy blankets.”
Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I think we can share one now, don’t you think?”
The next morning, Adam was in the kitchen making coffee when Isla wandered in. It was dark outside, and he didn’t need to leave for his shift at the station for almost two hours.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Her heart lightened as soon as he leaned back into her embrace.
“Slept like a king, actually.” He turned around and settled his hips against the counter, spreading his legs so she could nestle right in close to him. He lifted her chin with his fingers and lowered his face so his lips brushed against hers, then again, deeper, a good morning kiss that kept going until she was flushed and breathless. “Woke up bright-eyed and damn ready to do that.”
“Well.” She swept her hands over his chest. “Lucky me.”
He had her travel mug ready to go, too. When the coffee maker stopped burbling, he filled it for her, then poured himself a mug. “Feel free to blow up my phone with text updates all morning. I don’t think we have any trainees scheduled to join us until the evening. I’m taking the truck to Will’s school in the afternoon.”
“That’s fun.” She took a sip of her coffee, not wanting to leave. But she had cinnamon bread to put in the oven, and that schedule was precise. She gave him a shy look from behind her mug. “Can I have another kiss for the road?”
He took the travel mug from her hands, set it on the counter, then pulled her hard against his body. He smelled like body wash and aftershave. She wanted to imprint the scent on herself, to carry her through the rest of her day.
“Have a safe shift,” she whispered before he kissed her. I’ll miss you. The sentiment surprised her, and yet as soon as she thought it, she knew it was true. She was proud of the work that he did, and knew the twenty-four-hour shifts were a part of it. But her heart already yearned for him to be on the other side of this shift, on the other side of the sleep that would follow. For all intents and purposes, she would see him tomorrow night for dinner, and then they would repeat that cycle for two more shifts. Six whole days consumed by mere glimpses.
This was why he wanted to go slow. They hadn’t yet tumbled into bed, and she already longed for uninterrupted time together.
But once she was at the bakery, that unexpected ache softened into a sweeter, more tender appreciation for the stolen moments they’d had that morning. The sound of Adam’s voice as he’d said he slept like a king would fuel her for hours. The pride in those words reinforced they’d made the right decision to step carefully in this new direction. Maybe a little sexual frustration—properly vented through delicious, lingering kisses—would do them both some good.
All morning, she floated on that idea.
Waiting wasn’t going to be hard at all. It was going to be worth it.
Adam was on her mind in more ways than one, she realized after she took advantage of a quiet lull to work on the chalkboard for the next day’s menu, and instead of writing her usual list of treats, she gave them all names.
It started with the chocolate chip cookies, which she’d teasingly promised Adam and his brothers would be the best they had ever had. That memory slid into Adam suggesting that could be his nickname in her phone. The Best She’d Ever Had. He’d been teasing, but it was the truth—and that was before they’d built an entwined life together.
A week before, she wouldn’t have been able to even hold that thought in her head. Today? It made her float on air. She picked up her chalk and started writing.
Best I’ve Ever Had (chocolate chip cookies)
Born in the Bruce (butter tarts)
Better When It’s Wild (marshmallow dream bars)
The third one made her blush, and when the bell above the door dinged, she had to take a second to compose herself before heading to the front again.
Over the course of the afternoon, she thought of a few more names, and before she locked up, she put the chalkboard in place for the next day.
Then she texted a photo of it to Adam, and headed home.
She texted him again after dinner, before crawling under his favourite blanket on the couch to watch a show.
When her phone rang immediately after hitting send, she almost answered it without looking, assuming it was Adam. But at the last second her brain registered the name on the screen, and she dropped it in her lap.
So much for her ex having been scared off after his drop-in at the bakery.
She waited until the call ended, then blocked his number. She should have done that before, but she hadn’t heard from him again, so she assumed wrongly that he’d lost interest in whatever his game was with her.
She’d been mistaken.
Fingers shaking, she called Catie next.
“Hey,” Isla said as casually as possible
.
“What’s wrong?”
So much for casual. “Eh, you know. Just dodging calls from my ex and Adam is working tonight. How do you feel about staying on the line with me forever, or until I go to work tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be right over.”
“No, it’s—” But before Isla could pretend it was fine, that she didn’t need company, the line went dead. And five minutes later, Catie’s headlights flashed through the front window.
Chapter Seventeen
The next two shifts were the busiest Adam had ever had. Not a single second for sleep overnight, two shifts in a row, meant the week disappeared in a blur of work, recovery, work again, and by the time they handed off to the next crew on Friday morning, he was beat. Ready for an exhausted collapse into bed. He had one more shift on Saturday to get through, and then he’d have four days off to focus on Isla.
As he headed down the stairs, he caught sight of Owen arriving for the day. He had a travel mug in one hand and a stack of files in the other.
“Morning,” they said to each other at the same time.
Owen shifted his mug to the other hand and swiped his pass card to open his office door.
Adam jogged over and caught the door with his hand, pushing it open for his brother. Owen nodded in thanks as he dumped his paperwork on the desk. He sat down, yawned, and took a big gulp of coffee.
“Late night?”
“Kerry and I were in the city yesterday.” Owen scrubbed the heel of his hand into his temple. “We’re seeing a fertility specialist.”
Adam sank into the chair across from his oldest brother. “Babies?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that’ll give Josh something to freak out about even more than farmer’s markets.”
Owen snickered. “Indeed. Anyway, my day is just beginning. How did the last twenty-four hours go for you? I’m surprised to see you here again this week.”
“Just fine.” It would have been more believable if Adam hadn’t growled the answer. Had any of his shifts really been truly great? No, they were all fine, which was the truth, because he survived them and that was his goal.
Owen’s eyebrows raised slowly, but he held back any retort. Like he wasn’t sure what Adam wanted to hear, and that made two of them.
Adam had known that this first year in this job would be survival-mode. Sure, he’d earned his place on the team. But it was going to be a long time until he graduated out of the real probationary period. It was de facto expected of him to put in multiple years, perhaps, maybe even a decade, before they saw him as his equal. Maybe he would be the rookie forever, until someone younger or newer joined the team, and that wouldn't be until Richard retired. It was one of the downsides of working in a small town on a single crew.
He was, for all intents and purposes, once again, the baby brother. He was in the exact same position he always found himself—or never put in the time to grow out of. He had known that's what he was getting into. Maybe on some level, that was the position he wanted to seek out in his life, but why, when it frustrated him so much?
Was there some part of him that thought if he just earned approval from his crewmates, then he was finally going to earn approval from his brothers?
“It’s been a long week,” Adam finally said, the words grinding out of him. “One more shift to go.”
“Three in one week?” Owen frowned. “Didn’t you work three last week, too?”
“Don’t get involved.”
That didn’t stop his brother. “What are they doing, hazing you? Everyone else has forty-eight hours of downtime in between shifts. Max seven in a month. You’re—”
“I’m taking extra shifts with different crews, because I’ll be covering extra days over the holidays. Just getting up to speed. It’s fine. I get a week off after Saturday.”
Owen muttered something under his breath that sounded dangerously like that’s not how I’d do it, and Adam was damn glad he didn’t work directly for his brother. Even though the fire service and the EMT crews shared a building, Owen’s people worked twelve-hour shifts, so even when they did overlap, it was only for part of a shift—or, as in this moment right now, their shifts starting when the other was finishing.
Owen finally settled on a sentiment they could agree on, at least. “You need time at home with your wife.”
“That’s true.” Adam rubbed his jaw. “Listen, about Isla… I don’t want this to sound like a favour…”
“God forbid you ask your family to help with anything,” Owen snarked.
“Because they’re always so understanding,” Adam snapped back. Then he groaned, because fuck, he was just as much to blame for picking a fight as any of his brothers. “You know what? I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I am.”
“Good. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness.”
“Noted.” Adam rolled his shoulders, then his neck. He could do this. “I’m working a double Christmas Eve and Christmas Day—”
“What the—” Owen swore. “That’s not okay. Who scheduled that? Denise?”
“I agreed to it. That’s not the problem. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You don’t get to decide when I stop worrying about you. Because that’s going to be never.”
“Well, can you find a way to care about me that is slightly less judgemental?” Adam shook his head. “Because the first year on the job would be tough for anyone, and I’m managing.”
“I’m not judging you.”
Adam got up. This had been a mistake.
“Hey, what was the favour? About Isla?”
“If I’m going to be working, can you include her in your Christmas?”
Owen looked like Adam had slapped him. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”
“I dunno.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m tired.”
“Look, I was actually thinking…I might put myself on the Christmas shifts, too. Not to keep an eye on you, but to be around as a colleague. I don’t mind being a safe ear if you need to vent. You’re right—the first year is hard. Fucking hard, and you’re doing better than I did. I hated it so much I didn’t last that long before I went back to taking EMS shifts. But it’s a good fit for you. You’re a natural. Just like Dad was.”
Aw, fuck. Adam blinked his scratchy eyes. The fatigue was getting to him. “Thanks.” Even his voice sounded rough.
“So if we’re both here on Christmas, maybe I’ll suggest to Will that he has Kerry and Isla over to his place? That way it’s not even a favour to you, or Isla. Just a big brother looking out for the whole family type of conversation.” Owen spread his hands wide. “Let me have that, at least. I love doing that shit.”
Adam sagged back against the door, suddenly not ready to leave just yet. “Thanks. I appreciate it, I really do. Hey, speaking of Dad and Christmas. You remember the wine he and Mr. Minelli used to drink?”
Owen laughed out loud and nodded.
Adam grinned. “I bought a bottle. Meant to save it for Christmas, but one thing led to another with Isla and we ended up drinking it one night.”
“Damn, son.” Owen gave him a look that was all peer. “Nice.”
That was too much of a tone shift for Adam going on twenty-seven hours without sleep. “All right, I’m going home. Time to hit the hay. See you later.”
“Yep.” Owen picked up his mug. “And I’ll be around on Saturday if you want to stop in again. This was fun.”
Adam snorted. They needed better definitions of the word fun, but it had been something, and not at all what he’d expected when he’d stomped down the stairs half an hour ago.
The fatigue caught up with him on the short drive home, and by the time he let himself in, his eyelids were heavy and hot.
He climbed the stairs, dropped his clothes on his bedroom floor, and crawled face first under his blanket.
Six hours later, he heard the front door unlock and bolted straight up in bed. Apparently, h
e hadn’t closed his bedroom door when he came home.
Isla typically stuck to the main floor, but if she came upstairs for any reason, she’d see his bare ass sprawled out in the least flattering way possible, and that wasn’t how he wanted her first impression of his naked butt in months to go.
He listened to her move quietly through the house, and once she was in the kitchen, he leapt out of bed and grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants from his clean laundry basket. Then he went downstairs to find her.
She was putting food away in the kitchen, and glanced over at him as he entered. “Milk and butter we need to use up,” she said as she straightened up.
He caught her around the waist and pulled her in close. “Pasta for dinner? Something creamy?”
“Spoken like someone who has another shift tomorrow and will do a long workout.” She laughed. “But yes, definitely. Maybe with some peas and bacon?”
His stomach growled. “Want that for lunch?”
“We can. But if you’re hungry right now, I brought some treats home from the bakery. Would a Born in the Bruce butter tart help, or maybe a Peninsula cookie?” She held up an obscenely shaped sugar cookie. “The butter in the dough made the shape a bit…different than intended. Obviously, I can’t sell them.”
Adam choked on his laughter. “That’s a…dick.”
“I tried icing it,” Isla deadpanned. “It made things worse.”
“White icing? You’re joking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no. Definitely joking. I didn’t even try to ice them. As soon as the peninsulas came out of the oven looking like penis-insulas, I knew I’d have to scrap them. I brought four home as a memento to share with you, the rest were turned into cookie crumbs for an individual birthday cake stack I’m going to try to make tomorrow.”
“You brought me dicks. So thoughtful.” He took a big bite. “Delicious.”
“I’m happy with how they taste, for sure.” She snorted. “I just heard how that sounded out loud.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Sounded just fine to me.” He shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, then washed it down with a glass of water. “It feels like you’re coming up with a new recipe idea every other day.”
