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He means it. He’s going to leave his menace of a dog on my couch until I tell him why I’m annoyed.
“I thought you were supposed to serve and protect, not harass and annoy,” I mutter.
“Wrong department, Sunshine.”
“What?”
“That’s the police department motto, not the fire department. Our motto is ‘play with fire and you get burned’.”
“What? No, it is not!”
“Are you sure about that?” His brown eyes are dark and heated as he takes another step toward me. “Because you’re playing with fire right now.” His gaze drifts down my body again, setting entire tracts of it on fire. “And I’m fucking dying to see how you burn, baby.”
I gulp, my pulse racing at the look in his eyes. This is not how this was supposed to go. This is notat allhow this was supposed to go.
So why do I like the way he’s looking at me right now?
Chapter Two
Alessandro
I’ve always believed angels existed, but I’m mad as hell that one has lived next door for an entire week, and I didn’t know it. I’ve been so busy dealing with the wildfire ravaging Granite Hills that I’ve barely been home. The only neighbor I’ve met until today is the old lady a few houses down...and she doesn’t look anything like Heidi Marsh.
Heidi is fucking gorgeous when she’s mad. Actually, she’s fucking gorgeous, period. The woman is a dream. Her longbrown hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, wild tendrils curling around her heart-shaped face in a way that draws attention to the column of her throat—one I’d very much like to kiss and bite right about now.
“What’s it going to be, Sunshine? You going to tell me what I said to piss you off, or is my dog a permanent resident on your couch now?” I ask, taking another warning step toward the curvy goddess staring at me like she’s not sure if she wants to flee for her life or knee me in the balls.
A smudge of flour dusts her porcelain cheek, making my fingers itch to wipe it away just to see if she’s as soft as I imagine she is. The subtle smile that curls her full, kissable lips and deepens her dimples when she looks at my dog tells me she isn’t nearly as pissed at him as she is at me. Lucky bastard.
Not even her frilly apricot-colored apron hides her thick curves and full breasts. Even her bare feet are sexy. Her little nails are pink and, unless I’m mistaken, covered in flour and spices.
When the old lady told me that my neighbor was a sweet little thing, I ignored her. The last thing I needed was some well-intentioned old lady trying to set me up...or so I thought. Maybe I should have paid attention because Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t fucking kidding. Heidi is the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen.
Unfortunately, I am not on her good side right now. Something about me really pisses her off. I just don’t have a clue what. I mean, I piss women off regularly, so I’m not entirely surprised.
Unlike most of the guys at the station, I don’t drip charm. In fact, flirting isn’t something I do. I don’t give a fuck about most women, quite frankly. I didn’t go into the fire service to sleep around. I leave that to guys like Dacen Abrams, who fucks anything that moves and prefers it that way.
He’s not the only one. Half the department hops from bed to bed.
I don’t.
I knew early on that I want the kind of forever my parents have or nothing. I’m not saying I’m a saint because I’m not. I lost my virginity one drunken night when I was eighteen. I’ve regretted that shit ever since. I swore then that I’d wait as long as I had to wait for my one, and I’ve kept that vow.
Call it instinct or intuition or plain goddamn insanity, but something keeps roaring that she’s standing in front of me right now. Unfortunately for me, she does not seem to share my belief that Rivin’s B&E was an act of fate.
"Why are you so pissed at me, angel?" My voice comes out gruffer than I intended. “I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
She huffs out a breath, tossing her head as if I’m annoying the fuck out of her. Accurate assessment, I suppose. "I'm not mad at you," she says. The adorable scowl on her face says otherwise.
I crowd her against the doorframe, my body nearly touching hers. My fucking balls cinch up tight, throbbing like a son of a bitch. She smells like sugar and spice and all things nice. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to pull her into me and claim that sassy mouth with a kiss. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
“Am not,” she whispers, her voice shaking as she presses herself flat against the doorframe to avoid brushing up against me. Judging by the way her pulse flutters and her eyes darken, she isn’t averse to me being this close, though. If anything, she likes it a little too much.
"Tell me," I demand, my eyes boring into hers.
"You're flirting with me," she finally snaps, her cheeks flushed as if I’m committing some cardinal sin. "It may work on everyone else but not me, Alessandro. You can't flirt your way out of trouble with me, got it, buddy?"
A laugh threatens to escape, but I tamp it down, keeping my expression solemn. "You think I'm flirting with you to get out of trouble?"
