Jill Shalvis - Flashpoint

That was it, that was all she took in before her mind went white with blinding pleasure. Vaguely, she felt him follow her over, but she was gone, simply gone.

When she could breathe once more, Brooke looked into Zach’s eyes, which were still dazed enough to stir her up again. She’d wanted to let loose and, oh boy, had she. She’d wanted a change-well, being naked with a man was a huge change. She’d wanted to belong, and she’d found that, too.

She tightened her grip on him so he couldn’t move, couldn’t break free, not yet, and he pressed his hips to hers as if he didn’t want to let go, either.

But then she realized how ridiculous that was. She didn’t cling, ever, and she was sure he didn’t, so she forced herself to relax her hold, to free him.

But he remained right where he was, muscles still quaking, eyes still a bit glazed over, just holding her, and something happened to her in that moment, something ripped deep in the region of her chest.

Oh, no. No, no, no…

She was not going to fall in love.

At least not any further than she already had…

Only she wasn’t stupid, or slow-witted. She knew the truth. Knew it was far too late. Needing to lighten the mood, she lifted her head and smiled. “Two condoms down…”

He let out a half laugh, half groan.

“Hey, if you’re too tired for that third one, I understand.”

Eyes glittering at that challenge, Zach bit her lower lip. He then proceeded to teach her a whole new kind of appreciation for her handheld showerhead-and she risked her knees to return the gesture.

By the time they hit his bed and tore open the third condom, she’d “let loose” multiple times and she was one quivering, sensitized nerve ending who could do nothing but feel.

And she felt plenty.

So damn plenty.

“Jesus,” Zach breathed shakily in her ear some time later. “That third time was…”

“Yeah.”

Turning his head, he softly kissed her throat, then her lips, coming up on an elbow to look into her face. “If we don’t have the words for it, I say we keep going.”

There were many, many reasons why she should get up and go home, but there was only one reason why she turned into his arms.

Zach woke up with a hard-on and a smile, both of which vanished when he realized he was alone.

Great. Terrific. Brooke wasn’t clingy, and he’d always liked that in a woman. Unable to pinpoint the basis for his sudden irritability, he took a shower, and just looking at the showerhead, remembering its use last night, had him smiling again.

He dressed and stopped to visit Phyllis at the hospital on the way to work. She wasn’t awake but he left her flowers and a Polaroid of Cecile sprawled on the firehouse couch, looking like the Queen of Sheba.

The picture reminded Zach that Tommy hadn’t called him regarding the photo he’d sent, and something niggled at him, just in the back of his brain, a connection that he couldn’t quite put together. It bugged the hell out of him.

At the station, he headed directly for the kitchen and caffeine. He found Cristina raiding someone’s lunch and Cecile meowing at her feet for handouts.

Cristina looked at Zach, then did a double take.

“What?” he asked, looking himself over to see if he’d put his pants on backward.

“Hey,” Dustin said, coming into the room, gesturing to the sandwich in Cristina’s hand. “That’s mine.”

Cristina took a bite, still staring at Zach. “You know what.”

“Not a clue,” Zach told her.

“My sandwich,” Dustin said again.

With a shrug, Zach headed for the coffee, but Cristina muttered something beneath her breath and, frustrated, he turned back to her. “Spit it out then.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re flaunting your just-gotten-laid airs.”

“Hello,” Dustin said to the room. “Am I invisible? That’s my sandwich.”

Cristina sighed and handed it over.

Brooke came in but stopped short when she saw them all. A smile slipped out of her at the sight of Zach, one that had we had great shower sex last night all over it, and it was adorable.

Cristina saw it and rolled her eyes as Brooke headed to the coffeepot. “Jesus. You two did it again? You know it’s a dry summer when even the New Hire is getting more than me.”

At that, Brooke spilled coffee over the edge of her mug and onto her fingers. “Ouch.”

“Karma,” Cristina told her.

“Hey, Cranky Pants.” Dustin tossed Cristina back the sandwich. “Maybe I should go bring you some Wheaties instead.”

“I’d rather get lucky.”

“You could get lucky,” Dustin responded. “Anytime.”

“No, I can’t.” She opened the Baggie and took another bite, still frowning. “My vibrator broke.”

Dustin’s jaw fell open.

Zach handed him a mug of coffee and gently tapped his chin until his mouth closed. “Easy there, big D.”

“Seriously, look at this face,” Cristina demanded of Dustin, waving the sandwich around. “Does it say I’ve gotten any good action lately? Does it say freshly laid? Does it say orgasm central? No, it does not.”

Zach glanced at Brooke, who was desperately trying not to look at any of them. He didn’t want to brag, but he was pretty damn sure she’d visited orgasm central just last night, compliments of him.

Dustin cleared his throat. “You could try a man,” he said to Cristina. “You know, instead of a vibrator.”

“A live penis? Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” Cristina poured a pound of sugar into her coffee, stirring so hard some of it splashed out.

Zach leaned in. “A little less anger, you might scare away the penises. Or is it peni?”

She pointed at him. “You, of the Recently Had Sex Club, shut up. You don’t get to give me advice.”

Brooke went even more red.

“How about me?” Dustin asked. “Can I give you advice?”

“Hell, no.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t take advice from a man who throws his heart into every relationship, only to get it crushed.”

“If you don’t put yourself out there, then why bother?”

Cristina stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. “You’re hopeless. A hopeless romantic.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s…it’s…” But for the first time in, well, history, Cristina seemed to run out of words.

Their first call of the day came in for a large fire in a warehouse across from the wharf, and all units responded.

By the time Zach and Aidan pulled up, black smoke stretched hundreds of feet into the blue sky like a vicious storm cloud, and the chief was setting up the ICS-Incident Command System. The street was a chaotic mess, making it difficult to get close, but the police were working on directing the civilians out and the fire units in.

Word had come through that there were several people trapped in the warehouse, and Zach eyed the inferno critically. “Not good.”

“Going to be tricky,” Aidan agreed as they pulled out their equipment.

The chief sent a group of them to the south side of the building, where the missing people had last been seen. Sam, Eddie, Cristina and Blake manned the hoses, while Aidan and Zach prepared to enter the building.

“Now,” Blake yelled from the rig, gesturing them in as the gang beat back the flames.

Aidan and Zach went in together, immediately choking on the thick, unrelenting smoke in spite of their protective masks. Visibility was ten feet at first. But only a few yards in, that was cut in half.

“You see red?” Aidan yelled.

“No, but I hear popping like Rice Krispies, so it’s coming.” In fact, it was earsplitting.