A Hero's Welcome

Author’s Note: For this story I borrowed one of the secondary characters from Fully Involved. In the book you'll meet Megan Edge as a rookie firefighter, but this story is set several years later. She was my first thought when considering the topic for this AC. I really wanted to explore who she might become, how she might grow and I hope this is a nice glimpse into that.

A Hero’s Welcome

She sat on the edge of the bed with her back to me as I paused in the doorway. Her dark braided hair was pulled into a ponytail which hung down her back, partially obscuring the white lettering on her navy T-shirt that read Nashville Fire. She stood, crossed to the bureau, and began emptying the pockets of her navy BDU pants onto the surface. Keys. ID card. Wallet. Pocket knife.

She carefully avoided looking at her own reflection in the mirror. Oh, baby. In the three years she’d spent on the job I had figured out how to tell when she’d had a bad shift. The first time had been the worst. She’d been just out of the fire academy and her crew had found an infant victim of carbon monoxide poisoning. I’d been afraid when I saw the vacant look in her eyes, but since then I’d learned how to care for her.

“Megan.” I crossed the room as she turned to me. Her brown eyes were dull, missing the spark that had warmed my heart the first time she’d looked at me. Now, after seven years and one child together, she still inspired a depth of emotion in me that no one ever had.

For my benefit, she tried for a smile but it never fully reached her lips, ending up as a sad lifting of one side of her mouth. She always tried to protect me from seeing the toll her job could take, but I saw it.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” I asked as I reached for her belt. She hesitated and the snick of leather against the belt loops as I pulled it free was the only sound.

“Some,” she finally replied with a shrug that told me she really hadn’t. I didn’t ask any more questions. She would not want to talk now, but later, when she’d had time to compartmentalize whatever had happened, she would tell me casually, as if it was no big deal.

I unbuttoned the fly of her pants and pushed them over her lush hips. Her muscular thighs flexed as she stepped out of them. I traced my hand back up the outside of her leg. Megan was a study in contradiction in so many ways. Physically, she was hard muscles with touches of softness in the curve of her hips and breasts. Emotionally, she was loving and generous, but she held her pain in a tight fist that I had to coax open. I lifted her shirt over her head, removing the armor between us. She trembled.

“Come to bed.” Taking her hand, I led her to the bed.

While she finished undressing and crawled between the ivory sateen sheets, I took off my shorts and over-sized T-shirt, then followed her. I stretched out next to her, fitting against the length of her body. Her caramel skin was warm and her arms immediately came around me, clinging to me. I pressed my face to her neck, breathing in the scent of her—vanilla and lavender.

Megan was normally an aggressive, in-control type of woman. Her confidence, surprisingly void of arrogance, was one of the qualities that first attracted me. But today I knew she would not take the lead. On days like this she needed me to take control.

I laid my palm against her cheek, my fingers caressing the angle of her jaw and brushing her earlobe. She leaned into my hand and her eyes slid shut.

“Jasmine,” she whispered my name with reverence. I smiled. She was my hero, a fierce warrior who battled a fiery dragon and won more than she lost. As much as I hated it when she did lose, I loved that she needed me in this way. For tonight, I could be her savior.

“I’m here, baby.” I kissed her. Gently, I traced my tongue inside her lips as I slid my hand down her to neck. She tugged at my hips, and, taking the hint, I moved over her. Her mouth opened to me and I deepened the kiss. On her neck, a pulse beat beneath my thumb. Alive. My need to feel her vitality was as urgent as hers.

I trailed my hand down the center of her chest to her stomach and her skin twitched in response. Sliding down her body, I kissed her neck, her collarbone, and then the edge of her breast where the soft swell met well-developed muscle. She tangled her fingers in my wavy hair to direct my mouth lower until my tongue touched the metal ring through her nipple. I closed my teeth around it and tugged.

“Oh God,” she gasped and her breathy tone made me wet.

Her nipple hardened against my tongue as I sucked it in and her throaty moan vibrated in her chest. I slid my hand along the silky soft arc of her bowed back.

She moved her thigh between mine and I couldn’t stop the instinctive roll of my hips against her. She thrust back and I grabbed her hips to still them. The pressure against my swelling flesh jolted me with pleasure and I fought the urge to lose myself against her. She could make me lose control in only a moment, but this moment was hers.

Her eyes were soft, but not nearly as wounded as they’d been. I held her gaze as I caressed her stomach, then lower. A sigh whispered past her parted lips as I slid two fingers slowly inside her.

“You always know,” she rasped. “You’re always here.”

“I always will be.” Tears filled her eyes and I wondered if I had misjudged her need. Suddenly uncertain, I began to pull back but she grabbed my wrist.

“Stay.”

“Baby, if you need—”

“Please.” Her fingers loosened and she stroked my forearm, but that didn’t quite ease the constriction in my chest. She guided me back in—deep. “I need you.”

We lay there together for a long moment, my curled fingers cradling her. And when a tear slipped down her cheek, I leaned forward and caught it on my lips. Then slowly I began to move in and out, matching the rhythm of her hips. She tightened her arms around me, her fingernails leaving trails over my back. With each thrust she drew me deeper, spreading her legs until her knees framed my hips and her heels dug into my calves.

“I needed—oh, God—I needed this so bad.” She gasped and bucked against my hand.

When she threw her head back I couldn’t resist the temptation of her throat. I raked a tight tendon with my teeth, knowing it would put her over the edge, needing to make her come almost as much as she needed the release. She shuddered and cried out as she came, then she began to cry in earnest. I rolled onto my back and gathered her against me. My own still raging arousal was nearly forgotten in the face of her tears.

Pulling the sheet over her, I listened patiently as her breathing slowed to normal and then she began to talk. I stifled the impulse to silence her when the details she described were nearly too much for me to hear. She had seen them, and now she needed to talk about them. And I would always be here.