Wrong For Me

Blaze are initiated few and far between, because not many can possibly possess the strength it takes to embody what it means, and you have to be all in or completely unaware.

They – we – are the strongest of the strong. The ones who go out, and demand justice for those who were failed by the system. We force the hands of evil with our deepest form of power.

Fire.

We go in, undetected and unexpected, and burn the bad to the ground.

God, I can’t believe I’ve been so unaware. This is beyond insane.

With a sigh, I close my eyes, hoping sleep will come.Chapter FifteenOakleyThree hours.

I’ve been staring at my window for three damn hours, replaying what happened earlier tonight over and over again in my head.

Alec had no fear when it came to those men. None.

This man, who owes me nothing, who I thought hated me all these years, has shown that he’s willing to put his own life at risk if it means my safety. I know he’s a fireman, and he has risked his life for complete and total strangers more times than I’m aware of, but whatever’s going on involving me, it’s different. I see it now.

It’s strange, the feeling of empowerment, the intensity that comes hand in hand with desire when the other person craves you the same.

Alec’s told me in several ways that he wants everything I have to give, and I believe him.

His aggressive behavior and impulsive attitude are simply testaments to his eagerness, his desperation. A raw need to have me. Because he wants to have me.

I can feel it in his animalistic stares and raving words. The way his hands shake when he’s near me, forcing his fingers to curl into tight fists.

And I don’t know how it happened or when, but I want something from him, too. I’m not sure what or how much of it yet, but tonight? Right now? I want to be in his bed.

When it comes to men, I’ve never been good at taking what I want, what I need.

I’ve never been bold.

But I want to be. I want to be the strongest, bravest version of myself … for him.

So, tonight, I will be.

As quietly as possible, I pull myself from my bed and make my way to his room.

He’s lying in the center of the mattress, flat on his back, in nothing but a pair of boxers.

The only light provided is from the moon slicing through the curtain, creating a soft blue glow across his velvety, tattooed skin. I use it to my advantage, watching the rise and fall of his deep breaths. Somehow, the rhythm calms my own, and my breathing syncs with his.

He’s awake; I know it. I can feel it in the way my skin prickles, as it only does under the heat of his eyes.

My greedy gaze takes its time, covering every inch of him until I meet his dauntless stare.

It’s dark, way too dark to truly see his face, but I know what he’s telling me without saying the words.

Be bold.

No second thought is needed as I take the four short steps forward, and then I’m climbing onto his bed, crawling across his body.

With one of his arms flat against the blanket, the other behind his head, he lies perfectly still as I hover over him. My hair brushes against his chest as I take inventory of his face. The two small scars, the fullness of his seemingly swollen lips. Black eyes with eyebrows to match. And just enough scruff to rub on, to feel scratching against my body, should he give me what I want.

Alec says nothing, doesn’t move an inch, as he lets me run the show, leaving it all up to me. The slight tip of his lips tells me he wants me to continue.

It’s an intoxicating sensation. One that consumes every inch of me, driving me forward.

I’m hovering over him, looking down at the mystery of a man beneath me, and all I can think of is how it would feel to be on the other side of this—to have him hovering above me, his strong thighs pinning me to the mattress, those sturdy arms casing me in.

My tongue slides out, wetting my lips, as I lower my hips, feathering my core against his.

His chest stirs, a harsh breath escaping through his nostrils, and my muscles tighten.

I crawl up another inch, bringing my knees just above his hips, and I slowly drop my body down on his.

His thigh muscles clench beneath me. The sound of his fingertips digging into the comforter as his hand twitches fuels my desire.

My eyes close. I’m so ready to touch him, to grind against him. Get lost with him.

He must see it; maybe he even senses it—my control slipping. He abruptly sits up. He shifts our bodies, so I’m sitting between his thighs, our chests inches apart, mouths sharing the same air.