Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“Brave,” he says firmly, and the conviction in his voice makes my chest tighten.
“Do you ever regret it?” I ask.
“Regret what?”
“Choosing this life. Staying here, fighting fires, being… Flint.”
He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “Being Flint, huh? Can’t say I’ve thought about it like that.”
“You know what I mean.”
He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Some days. But then I remember why I’m here. Why it matters. And no, I don’t regret it.”
His honesty feels like a gift, one I didn’t realize I needed.
“And you?” he asks, his gaze locking onto mine. “Do you regret leaving your family?”
“Not for a second,” I say without hesitation.
“Good.”
The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning. He sits on the cot, scooting to the edge and patting the empty space next to him. I tuck myself against him, curling under the crook of his arm as we adjust our bodies into a comfortable position.
The proximity feels dangerous, like we’re playing with something we can’t control.
“You’re not what I expected,” he says quietly, his voice like a low rumble of thunder.
I glance at him, my heart skipping a beat. “What did you expect?”
“Someone less... infuriating.”
I laugh, the sound loud and unguarded. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”
“You don’t,” he says, and the intensity in his tone makes my laughter fade.
I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. “Flint…”
He shifts, his hand brushing against mine. The contact is brief, but it sends a jolt through me.
“You don’t scare easy,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my lips.
“Neither do you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, we just sit there, the tension between us thick and electric. Then, slowly, he leans in, his breath warm against my skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough.
I don’t. I can’t.
And when his lips finally capture mine, it’s like everything I’ve been holding back comes rushing to the surface.
His kiss is demanding, consuming, and I match his intensity with my own, my fingers tangling in his shirt as I pull him closer.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine.
“You’re trouble, Juniper Hayes,” he says, his voice tinged with something gruff but tender.
Chapter Eight
Flint
“You keep chewing on that lip, and it’s going to swell,” I mutter, my voice low as I run the pad of my thumb along her lower lip.
A faint blush creeps up her neck. “Why do you care?”
“Just seems like a waste of perfectly good lips.” I smile, loving the way she banters so boldly with me.
Her eyes widen slightly before narrowing into a glare. “Always the charmer, huh?”
“Only when it works.” I smirk, watching the way her cheeks darken. She hates that I get under her skin. Almost as much as I enjoy doing it.
“You’re insufferable,” she says, but there’s no real bite behind it.
“And you’re stubborn,” I shoot back.
She exhales a shaky laugh, shaking her head. “Guess we’re even.”
The air between us thickens. The wildfire’s distant glow flickers in her eyes, but it’s the way she looks at me—like she’s trying not to see me—that sets something loose in my chest.
“Why do you do that?” I ask, my voice softer now.
“Do what?”
“Put up walls,” I say, leaning forward. “You fight every instinct to let someone in, like it’s some kind of sport.”
She stiffens, her gaze darting back to the window. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Grizzly Adams.”
“Fair enough,” I laugh, shifting her a little closer into my chest. “But I’m not the one pretending I don’t feel this.”
Her head snaps back toward me, her expression a mix of shock and indignation. “Feel what?”
“This.” I gesture between us. “The way we spark every damn time we’re in the same room.”
She blinks, her lips parting as if to argue, but no words come out. Good. She knows I’m right.
“I—” She starts, then stops, exhaling sharply. “Maybe it’s complicated.”
“It’s not,” I counter. She’s like a magnet, pulling me in even when I know I should keep my distance. “You just make it that way, city girl.”
She glares up at me, her chin tilting defiantly. “Maybe I don’t want this like you think.”
“Liar.”
The word hangs in the air between us, daring her to deny it. Her breathing quickens, and I catch the faintest quiver in her lips.
I adjust myself to cage her underneath me, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her skin is soft under my fingers, and she doesn’t pull away.
“You’re not as good at pretending as you think, princess,” I murmur, my thumb grazing her cheek.
Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and when they open again, there’s something raw in them. Vulnerability. Desire.
“Flint…” Her voice is barely a whisper, my name a plea and a warning all at once.
“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop,” I say, my voice rough, edged with restraint.