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He groaned against her nipple as he plucked at it with his
teeth. “His mouth felt so goddamn hard and hot.”

A soft cry escaped her. She rocked upward, grinding her wet
sex against his erection. “Get these pants off now!”

His smile spread over her breast. Rolling to the side, he
shoved off his jeans and kicked off his steel-toed boots. They hit the carpet
with two loud thumps. Then he turned to her once more, flipping her into his
arms.

She hooked her leg around his hip and seated herself atop
him, her pussy splayed over his arousal. Juices coated him and her breasts
shivered with every breath she dragged into her lungs.

“Did he touch you?”

His eyes drooped. “Fuck, yes. Jerked me to completion. Our
cocks hugged in his big fist.”

“Oh gods.” She threw herself over him, kissing him with a
passion greater than any she’d known before. He thrust his tongue into her
mouth at the same moment he speared her on his cock.

Swallowing her scream, he bucked hard, seating himself
deeply, the head of his erection nudging her womb. Pleasure washed through her.
She dug her fingers into his spine and began to move.

“Our come mixed on our bodies, Ellie, and it was almost the
hottest thing I’ve ever fucking done.”

“What is the hottest thing?” she gasped between kisses.

His hazel eyes shimmered with golden lights. “Fucked my
horny wife afterward.”

Hot words sending her over the edge, she stiffened.
Pulsations claimed her and she lost herself to the sensations beating her body.
Pearce’s name was a scalding litany on her tongue, and in the recesses of her
brain, she thought of the man who’d touched her husband and made him complete
in a whole new way.

She stuck her tongue into his ear. “Come inside me, baby.
Show me how you shot for him.”

His muscles strained. Pleasure stood out on his face and a
vein bulged on his temple. With an echoing groan, he came. Burning spurts
filled her sheath, heating her walls. She hugged him with her entire body as
together they rode out their aftershocks.

When she finally collapsed against him, he tucked her close.
His breath ruffled her hair.

“Holy shit, Ellie. That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah. You know what this means, don’t you?”

He was relaxing, sinking into sleep as he often did after
release. “Hmm?”

“We need him in our bed. Soon.”

Chapter Five

The blare of the alarms struck Pearce like a fist in the
gut. After all these years, he’d never get used to that sound. It sent a shock
of adrenaline to his system and he was immediately ready to come out swinging.
And in this case, scrambling his team to answer the call.

He started barking orders to the men who rushed past him.
Jumping into their fire gear—oversized pants and suspenders, jackets, heavy
boots and gloves. They grabbed up oxygen tanks and masks.

“Halloway, Lucifer, Dobbs, Howland, Morelli, you’re in Engine
One. Zacherel, Itar, Quade and King, you’re with me.”

Across the locker room, Morelli froze, his arm partway
inside his jacket. His very dark gaze met Pearce’s, and in that moment,
Pearce’s decision to keep Mitch at arm’s length while on the job seemed to be
the wrong one. Betrayal, hurt and a spark of anger lit Mitch’s rugged face.

He knows what I’m doing.

But there was no chance to remedy it. He simply couldn’t
have Mitch working closely with him anymore for fear something in his
expression or mannerisms would give him away.

Mitch gave a tight shake of his head that left Pearce with a
hollow feeling. They always teamed up, and now that they were closer, they had
to part ways. Didn’t Mitch know Pearce was trying to keep their jobs?

Twisting away, Pearce reached his locker in two steps and
slammed the door back. In seconds, he was kitted up, his muscles stretching
under the weight of the equipment. He wrapped his body around the fireman’s
pole and slid down, hitting the concrete floor with a thud.

He stepped away just as Mitch landed beside him. Their gazes
locked and Mitch put out a hand. He gripped Pearce’s shoulder. “See you there,
Chief.”

Pearce swallowed hard. A small flash of pain burned in his
chest. Yeah, he was the chief, but the way Mitch said it was almost hurtful. He
had to set this to rights, but later. After they responded to the raging fire
in the old warehouse on the south side of town, where too many wooden
structures crowded around the burning building. A few stray sparks and the entire
block would go up, leaving a hundred people’s lives threatened and more
homeless.

“Hit it, boys!” he bellowed.

Mitch pushed past him and, without a backward glance,
disappeared into Engine One. Heart heavier, Pearce launched himself into the
other engine. They peeled out of the station and tore down the city street,
horns blaring, the radio deafening. Another fire crew was already on the scene
but they were outmanned and needed backup quick.

“Oil barrels are reported on the premises. Explosions
expected.”

Great.
Mitch would be in the thick of it. As the
spill specialist, he’d be in demand on this job.

Pearce focused his glare on the road ahead of them. The
driver guided the fifteen-ton vehicle around the turns with more ease than he
could take a Honda Civic, scattering cars and pedestrians with a blow from the
big horn.
Get your head on, man. You can’t afford a single misstep.

Responsible for the lives of so many, Pearce couldn’t take
the time to dwell on Mitch. The man was pissed off and hurt, but Pearce would
have to deal with it later. If they made it through the afternoon.

Flames shot upward and smoke boiled into the sky. Pearce
assessed the blaze in a flash, zeroing in on the heart of it. Before the truck
had jerked to a stop, he was issuing orders. “I want you four on the left wing.
That’s where it started, I know it in my gut.”

He ran to the other engine and commanded the team to scope
out the part that wasn’t yet burning, because that was where the oil barrels
were kept.

Mitch strode past, a tank strapped to his back and filled
with a special chemical that would neutralize an oil or gas fire. He pulled his
hat low as he passed Pearce.

Pearce’s chest constricted. He couldn’t let him go into that
dangerous building without saying something.

“Morelli!”

Mitch swung his head around, shoulders stiff. From beneath
the brim of his hat, his eyes glittered black.

“Be careful.” It was far from what Pearce wanted to say, but
all he could manage while in the field. If Mitch wasn’t too furious and gave
him a chance to be heard following this, Pearce would try like hell to say all
the things he wanted to—that for a long time, he’d been losing himself to
Mitch. That the intimacies they’d shared were only an extension of the events
taking place in his heart.

He smacked Mitch on the shoulder. “Luck!”

Mitch shot off toward the building. Some of the windows had
blown out, looking like black gaps punched in the face of the structure. The
warehouse was flanked by tiny, ancient row homes, narrow and pinned up against
each other. Many were in disrepair on this side of town, and all were old
enough that the wood would go up like a dry Christmas tree under a match.

Pearce set himself up with the radio and started leading the
men who were risking their lives. The hoses were hooked up to hydrants and
directed at the open windows and the left side of the roof, which was entirely
gone. One of the engineers set up with the laptop, a blueprint of the warehouse
brought up from the city’s files on the screen.

Shoving a finger at the computer, Pearce indicated where he
believed the barrels of oil would be stored—a small area just off a loading
dock. The goods could be loaded onto trucks from there. He was unsure what sort
of cargo was stored in this structure, but it didn’t surprise him that flammable
substances would be onsite.

Pearce pressed a button and spoke into Morelli’s earpiece.
“If you can get through that door, the barrels will be in there. Left, left,
right.”

“Gotcha.”

Before Pearce could continue the communication he suddenly
needed as though it were air, he switched to another team and guided them.
Another engine from Firehouse 17 screamed onto the scene and men piled out,
grabbing hoses and tanks and extending a ladder toward the part of the roof
that wasn’t yet burning so men could hover over it and fire the water cannon
into the depths of the structure.

Pearce scanned the area wildly, never taking his gaze from
his crew and looking for any indication that an explosion would occur. As
always when he was on a call like this, he found that quiet head space where he
could detach himself and just perform.

Ellie was a distant thought, the roar of the flames
vanished, and he found himself communing only with the evil root of the fire
and the men he led.

In this case, Morelli.

Mitch’s voice came back to him. “Found it, Chief. And I’d
say we’re fucked.”

“Fucked?” Adrenaline surged to his fingertips.

“There’s more than oil here, Chief. It’s red phosphorus and
ethyl alcohol.”

“Holy fuck. A meth lab?”

“I’d say. Aren’t many uses for either chemical unless you’re
manufacturing something with those components.”

“Goddammit!” He got on the radio and released a stream of
information to the main center, which would broadcast it to the other
departments.

“Chief?” Morelli’s voice rumbled into Pearce’s ear.

“Yeah?” He zeroed in on the place where Morelli was
positioned, though he couldn’t see the firefighter. A slight wave of panic
assaulted him.

“We’re gonna be in a world of trouble when that water
touches the lithium.”

Pearce switched over and bellowed. “Stop that water feed
into the roof! Stop it right the fuck now!”

The chief from Firehouse 17 sprinted across the street.
“What’s going on?”

Pearce met him halfway and in rapid-fire speech related what
they’d found. The other chief whirled around and took off across the ground.
Seconds later the water flooding in through the roof was cut off.

“Mitch, what are you thinking? Talk to me about your plan,
man.” Mitch had been trained for months to deal with shit like this. Pearce’s
scope of comprehension was nowhere near that of Mitch’s.

“Well, I want to live to see your face later today, Chief,
so I think we’d better compartmentalize and keep the flames and water far away
from the chemicals I’ve got here. In the meantime, I need two men dressed in
hazmat to come out and help me carry it outta here.”

Pearce bit into his lip, battling his need to yell. Dammit,
he didn’t want any of his men laying their hands on that shit. The red
phosphorous would blow once it reached a certain temperature, which was highly
likely in this unstable environment. A sudden image of Mitch in a decompression
chamber, his face scorched, jumped into his head.

He tamped down on it. “Do what you need to do, Morelli. Just
get yourself and the others working with you out of there safely.”

* * * * *

After hours of carrying hazardous and explosive materials
out of the burning warehouse, Mitch felt as if he’d been sideswiped by one of
the fire engines. He leaned against the shower wall and let the scalding water
pour over his neck and back.

Every muscle in his body still vibrated from the look Pearce
had given him when he’d walked safely through the doors of the firehouse—a look
that spelled out exactly what he planned to do with Mitch when they were alone.

His cock stirred at the mere thought. Hell, he’d thought
himself too tired to muster any sort of enthusiasm but he was wrong. When it
came to Pearce Johnson, he was wrong about a lot of stuff.

He’d expected Pearce to put him in the truck with him. They
always worked together, but now that they’d shared a couple intimate
encounters, the chief was pushing him away, holding him at arm’s length on the
job. That’s why he’d been shocked as hell when Pearce gave him that
bone-melting, ball-clenching, burning look. It was completely opposite of what
he’d expressed earlier.

“Morelli, good work,” Luke called out, toweling his hair as
he walked out of the shower room.

“Thanks.” He slumped forward and let the wall support him as
well as hide his erection. Thinking about Pearce in any way did that to him.

Someone called from the outer room, “Chief wants you in his
office, Morelli.”

His cock jumped, bobbing against his abs. “Wants you in his
office” instantly conjured images of Pearce seated at that big desk with his
pants around his ankles and his cock buried in Mitch’s throat.

Quickly he switched off the water and wrapped the towel
snugly around his hips, hoping to hide his arousal. As he passed the row of
lockers and his pile of fresh clothes, he hesitated. Normally he’d get dressed,
but this was too good. Entering Pearce’s office wearing nothing but a towel
might land him in hot water—exactly where he wanted to be.

He traversed the corridor to the chief’s office. When he
yanked open the door, Pearce spun in his desk chair, his gaze latching on to
Mitch’s and holding.

Holding.

Neither breathed. The pulse on the side of Pearce’s neck
fluttered erratically. Mitch longed to put his mouth over that spot and learn
the rhythm.

“Why the fuck aren’t you dressed?”

“Someone said you
wanted
me. I thought it best to
hurry.”

Lust blurred Pearce’s eyes, but he quickly dropped his gaze.
It lit around Mitch’s thighs. He tossed a glance over his shoulder and cursed
the narrow window cut into the door. If not for that, he’d drop his towel and
give Pearce something good to stare at.

“You feeling all right after the action today?” Pearce
asked, voice gruff.

“Sure.”

“No breathing problems? Feelings of euphoria?”

Carrying those substances out of the warehouse might have
sent dust into the air, which could affect the whole team. “Nah, I’m fine.” He
perched on the edge of Pearce’s desk. His towel stretched taut against his
cock, making the outline of his erection plain.

Pearce’s gaze flickered down and he gulped. Then his face
blanked, a mask replacing the hunger Mitch had glimpsed. “This isn’t the place,
Mitch.”

“Yeah? Well, tell him that.” He nudged his cock and the
thick length bounced.

Shoving away from the desk, Pearce jumped to his feet and
twisted away. “Get dressed. You’re dismissed.”

A pang of hurt wove through Mitch’s chest. “Dismissed from
the house or from you?”

Pearce whirled, jamming a hand through his very short, dark
hair as he did. “Dammit, Mitch, you know what I meant!”

“Do I? Seems strange to me. Alone, I’m good enough. But
here, you’re afraid to even be around me. Partners. We’ve always been a team,
man. Now I think you’re ashamed to call yourself a friend.”

“That’s not true.” Pearce’s voice shook. With anger or
emotion? Mitch narrowed his gaze and tried to read him.

“No?”

“You know why things need to be kept quiet. I need this job
to support my wife.”

Mitch cringed a bit at the mention of Ellie, whom he’d never
want to hurt for all the world. “That’s right. Ellie…”

“Yeah, Ellie—the same woman who asked me last night to bring
you into our bed!” He pitched his voice low, the furious tones coming out as a
harsh rasp.

A spike of passion struck Mitch, spearing him to the floor.
He licked his lips. “She wants that?”

“Hell yes! But we shouldn’t be speaking of it here, and you
damn well know it! Now get out, get dressed and fucking meet me outside. You’ve
got ten minutes, Morelli.”

Mitch’s heart heaved inside the cavern of his chest. Hope
rocketed into the heavens. The power struggle between them had never been so
evident. Here at the firehouse, Pearce wouldn’t let him have the upper hand.
But once they were outside and alone, Mitch hoped that would change.

He was going to have Pearce right where he wanted him.