Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I settle for a half-truth. “A coworker who doesn’t quite understand boundaries. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly, but he doesn’t push. “Well, I’m glad I could help, even if it was unintentional.”
We stand there for a moment, the crisp winter air nips at my cheeks, and it’s brought a flush to Jack’s cheeks, and . . . Jesus . . . his uniform fits him perfectly. I try to push away the thoughts of how good he looks, reminding myself of my earlier reservations.
But I realize I don’t want this moment to end, don’t want to say goodbye to Jack just yet.
“Can I buy you a coffee?” I blurt out. “You know, as a thank you.” I glance at the front door. “Not here, of course. And I should probably leave before he comes out.” I notice his uniform again. “Unless you’re on your way to work.”
“I have the day off today,” he says, then pauses. “I mean, I had something I had to do today that required me to be in uniform. But I’m done and free.”
“So coffee?” I ask.
“I have a better idea.”
Jack’s eyes twinkle with boyish charm as he says, “How about we grab some hot chocolate instead? I know this amazing little place a few blocks from here. They make it from scratch with real melted chocolate.”
My heart flutters at his suggestion. It feels intimate somehow, more special than just grabbing coffee. “That sounds perfect,” I reply, unable to keep the smile from my face.
Walking the streets of downtown Manhattan, near the water, in the winter, next to a fireman, and on our way to get hot chocolate. What could get more Christmas than that?
As we walk, our breath misting in the cold air, I find myself stealing glances at Jack. His profile is strong, jawline defined, and there’s a quiet confidence in the way he carries himself. It’s genuine and grounded.
“So, day off, huh?” I say, breaking the comfortable silence. “What do firefighters usually do on their days off?”
Jack chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Walk next to pretty girls to get hot cocoa.” We round a corner, and Jack points to a small, cozy-looking shop with steamed-up windows. “Here we are. Best hot chocolate in the city, I promise.”
The scent of chocolate and cinnamon envelops us as we step inside. It’s warm and inviting, with mismatched chairs and tables, and shelves lined with old books.
As we wait in line, Jack turns to me. “Listen, about what happened back there . . .” He hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “If you ever need help or someone to be nearby . . . No pressure, of course.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say. I shrug. “No big deal really. I just have a stalker.”
Jack’s eyes widen, his expression turning serious.
I immediately regret my flippant comment. “No, no, it’s not like that. I was joking. No stalker for me.”
Jack’s face relaxes slightly, but something I can’t quite make out still lingers in his eyes.
We reach the counter, and Jack insists on paying for our hot chocolates despite my protests. As we wait for our drinks, I notice how at ease I feel with him. There’s something about Jack that seems so familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“I know we’ve just met,” I begin. “But it feels like I know you from someplace.”
Jack smiles warmly. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life,” he jokes.
Our drinks arrive, steaming mugs topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder. We find a small table by the window, and I wrap my hands around the warm mug, inhaling the rich scent.
“I think I’ve fallen in love just from the smell,” I say, taking a sip. The chocolate is thick and velvety, with a hint of cinnamon. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding about this place.”
Jack grins with a wicked glimmer in his eyes, clearly pleased by my reaction. “Told you. It’s my little secret.”
I take another sip, savoring the rich flavor. “Well, consider me impressed. I might have to make this my new spot. And I like secrets.”
Jack gins, oblivious to the bit of whipped cream on his upper lip
I laugh and gesture to my own lip. “You’ve got a little . . .”
He wipes it away, his cheeks flushing slightly. “So I told you one of my secrets. Now it’s your turn to tell me one of yours.”
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the warm mug. God, if only I could tell him my darkest and most desired secret. What if I told him that nothing would turn me on more than having him knock our hot chocolates to the floor with one swoop of his arm and throw me across the table instead? He’d tear of my clothes and fuck me without a second thought to the people around us. Nothing could get in the way of his hunger for me and—