Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(33)

Said no. And left him. And now she was all turned on with no one to do.

“Goddamn it,” she said, shoving off the wall and stalking to the bathroom. When the door clicked shut behind her, she turned on the tap and yanked off her clothes.

A cold shower might be cliché, but it was her only option here.



Drake’s apartment felt much colder and emptier than he ever remembered it being. He tossed his keys on the table and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin.

Damn it. He still couldn’t forget the way her eager hands had rubbed all over his body, how her mouth had ravaged his just before she’d fallen all over herself to get away from him.

Shit. He collapsed in a dining room chair, just staring out the darkness of his kitchen window. On the drive back home, all he could think about was her. No matter how many times he tried to distract himself, with the radio, calling his best friend and hitting his voicemail, solving complex math problems, none of it could exorcise the memory of her hot, sweet hands delving below his waistband to graze the edge of his hot, hard, hungry cock.

As if in response, his dick ached and twitched in his pants. Wincing, he rubbed the shaft gingerly.

Aw, damn. It wasn’t her hands, or her mouth on him, but this erection wasn’t going to go quietly.

Standing, he shoved the chair beneath the table and headed to the shower. If he was going to do this, he might as well enjoy it. Maybe next time they were together, they could shower together. He imagined how she’d look, her tanned, naked skin dotted with soap suds, wet, dark ropes of her hair decorating her bare shoulders.

It was an aching relief to remove his boxers, and when his hand closed around his hard length, he closed his eyes and wished with all his might it was her hand touching him.



She shrieked when the cold water hit her body, teeth chattering as she stood rigid under the shower’s unrelenting stream. Her nipples were hard as rocks, goose bumps all over her body.

I don’t need to think about him. I made this decision. Me. It was right for me at the time.

But no matter how long she recited her litany, it didn’t make the ache between her thighs go away.

She stared up at the painted white ceiling, relaxing a little now that her body had gotten used to the cold. Though her skin was numbed, it wasn’t dead. And Drake had heated her blood to the point that a little cold water wasn’t going to solve the problem she had now.

Reluctantly, she edged the shower’s nozzle to the red end of the spectrum. With warmer water coursing along the planes of her naked body, she looked down. Her nipples were still dark and hard. She remembered how they’d looked pinched gently between his fingers. Lifting her hands, she covered her breasts, squeezing slightly.

It felt good. Not as good as Drake’s hands, but it was all she had.

Fingers rubbing down her belly, she bit her bottom lip. He had found her clit with no problem last night, his cock and his hand moving at once to bring her to orgasm. She’d never had one given to her by another person before. It had been incredible. Could it happen again? Next time, would he touch her, f*ck her, make her come? Her fingers delved between her nether lips, and she was so, so wet.



Standing in the steamy glass walls of his shower, Drake stroked his length. With every movement, he pictured her, straddling him, looking down at him, her beautiful bare nipples perked and ready for his hands, his mouth, for him. A bead of slick precum moistened his tip, and he spread it along the shaft to heighten the pleasure.

She’d been so tight, so wet, so ready for his entry, and he’d f*cked her as if it was the only thing in life he needed. And it was. Now, if she was there, in the shower with him…

“Oh God,” he moaned. Having her touch him, grip him, suck him, caress his sac, his shaft, the swollen head of him…

It was too much. Much too much. Faster, he stroked himself, one hand braced on the cold tiles of the shower wall. Three, four, five jets hit the glass door, and he poured himself out in daydreams of Everly.

“Everly.” His voice was rough as it echoed in the bathroom around him. The sound of the water swirling down the drain was impossible to hear over the roaring of his own heartbeat in his ears.



The slick feeling of her body’s moisture eased the movements of her hand between her thighs, and Everly’s movements became faster, more desperate.

Drake had taken her over, body and mind. She was possessed by the memory of him, the thought of his body pressing her down, his hard cock entering her, her body stretching and burning and needing him. It was too much. It was much too much. She was so empty, so wanting, aching for him.

It wasn’t enough, but she entered herself with her fingers, rubbing her clit furiously with her other hand. It was a pale imitation of the man she wanted, but the memory of him was all she had.

It was enough.

She came on a choking cry, her inner walls spasming around her fingers as she desperately wished for strong arms to hold her, to catch her, to ease her through the feelings.

Spent, and weak, she leaned against the wall and stared up at the curling plumes of steam that bounced off the ceiling.

“I’m not saying no again.”

She might have whispered the words, but they were no less serious for her lack of volume. Her decision was made. The next time Drake offered himself to her, she was going to take him without any hesitation.

To do anything else was pure insanity.