“My car broke down and I tried calling you. When you didn’t answer, I thought something had happened to you,” I explain calmly, trying to put myself in his shoes. His reaction isn’t all that far off from the one I had when I saw him leave the bar with Kelsey months ago. Seeing that left me feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.

And he wasn’t even mine at that point.

But now, there’s no doubt in my head or my heart—I am his. There’s nothing possessive or demanding about it. My belonging to him is as simple as my need for air.

“That’s crazy.” The anger vanishes from his face, morphing into something that looks a lot like disbelief.

“You run into burning buildings for a living. The possibility of you getting hurt . . . or worse even . . . it’s real,” I choke out. Giving in to the tears that were building earlier, I lose the battle with my restraint. Tears stream down my cheeks. “When I couldn’t get in touch with you, I worried that you were at work and something happened.”

“You knew I was at my test.” He’s right. Somewhere in my brain I knew I was getting ahead of myself, making something out of nothing, but somehow the worst case scenario was all I could focus on.

“That made it worse,” I add, watching him as he grows more confused. “It made me realize how your job is your life. How dedicated you are and how much you’re willing to sacrifice. When you’re at work . . .” I catch my breath, struggling to find the words to convey my emotions, “If I don’t hear from you for more than a few hours, the anxiety consumes me. I get panicky and restless. And then, when the phone rings, or I see a text come in, the unease evaporates.”

“Sweetheart.” Swiping a tear away from my face, he presses his lips to my cheek. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. It’s something I’m going to have to get used to.” Inhaling a shuddery breath, I lean into his touch. “Because if spending the rest of my life with you is the tradeoff for a few panic attacks and a bunch of sleepless nights, then I still make out pretty well.”

His eyes widen. “The rest of your life?”

“Shit,” I curse. “Did I say that aloud? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I know guys don’t want to hear things like that. I’m sorry. I take it–”

Pressing his finger to my lips, he shushes me. “Don’t take it back. Ever.” He kisses me, sweetly at first, then something deeper and more meaningful takes over. Pulling his lips from mine, he reaches behind me and takes something out from behind the couch. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he’s holding a gift bag in his hands.

“That better not be–”

Shooting me a cockeyed look, he shakes his head. “No, babe.” When he adds, “Not yet,” my heart races. “Just open it, please.”

As soon as I take the bag from his hand, I realize it’s way too heavy to be disguise packaging for a ring box. Relief battles disappointment, but he said not yet and that’s good enough for now. Hidden under the tissue paper is a navy blue T-shirt. The color is the same as the majority of his collection of FDNY shirts. When I lift it out of the bag and read the red and white screen printing across the front, I break out into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Oh, my God. No you didn’t.” Holding my brand new I heart David Andrews shirt against my chest, I shoot him a huge, goofy smile.

“I did,” he admits proudly.

“It’s perfect.” Turning it over, I laugh even more when I see he’s printed the exact words I spoke the other night across the back. “You are such a dork.”

“Yep, but I’m your dork.”

“I’m sorry for getting so worried.” Picking at an imaginary piece of lint, I keep my eyes focused on my new shirt. I know it was wrong of me to overreact like that, but there was nothing I could do to stop the panic from controlling my brain.

Covering my hand with his, he draws my attention back to his gorgeous face. “I’m sorry, too. It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions about Tim.” His name still sounds foul coming out of David’s mouth, but I know he means every word of his apology.

Needing to put all this behind us, I change the subject. “So, how was your test? Did you ace it?” Running his hand through his hair, he seems tense. Shit. Maybe it didn’t go that well.

Shrugging, he deflects with a simple, “It was okay.”

“Okay?” I nearly shriek. “You studied that fine ass of yours off for months. It had to be better than okay.” Butterflies take flight in my belly thinking about him and those glasses. Damn, I don’t mind when those are around.

“Fine. It was better than okay,” he admits. “Ian and I compared answers after the test with a few other guys there. It was a fair test and the prep materials were right in line with everything, so I feel good about it.”

A sense of awe descends over me. This beautiful, kind, intelligent man is all mine. As if I hadn’t already, I fall hard for him. “I’m so freaking proud of you. And I’m so happy you were here, despite the misunderstanding.” Sliding closer to him, my leg brushes against his. My fingers dance along his corded forearm, heat passing between us. “I like when you’re here.”

His eyes scan my face before settling on my lips. Taking them in a moment of passion, he pulls me impossibly close to him. “I do, too.” His strong hand dives into my hair, pulling me to within an inch of his soft, full mouth. “And you’re not getting rid of me,” he asserts.

With his lips moving with reckless abandon against mine, he slides onto the couch, pulling me onto his lap as he does so. In a slow, smooth motion, he lifts my shirt over my head. Shivers race over my body as he unhooks my bra, running his short nails across my skin.

Frantic need takes over in my own movements as I toss his shirt to the ground, the rest of our clothes following quickly behind. Lifting his hips, he slides his shorts off, pulling a condom out before dropping them to the floor.

“You know I’m on the pill,” I murmur against his skin as he opens the wrapper.

“I know, but I thought–” Stealing his words with a searing kiss, the rest of his sentence dies on his lips.

“Don’t think, baby. Don’t think at all.” Boldness flows through my veins, lifting me from his lap. With one leg on each side of his body, I stand on the couch, straddling him. Button followed by zipper, I lower my shorts an inch or two, exposing the black lace of my thong.

His strong fingers grip the waistband, tugging them down the rest of the way. Using his shoulders for leverage, I keep my eyes locked on his as he strips me bare. With my pussy no more than a few inches from his face, it’s all I can do not to give into the shaking in my legs.

There’s no need to worry about losing my balance, or falling on my face. David’s hands, strong and warm, wrap around my waist, holding me steady. “God, you’re fucking beautiful. This hot,” he licks at my lips, “tight,” he licks again, a slow stroke right up the center, lingering for a touch on my clit, “wet pussy is perfect and it’s all mine.” Resting his head against the back cushion, he pulls me onto his face. Worried about suffocating him, I try to pull away. Of course he’ll have none of that, forcing me to stay right where I am.

“Holy shit, David . . . oh, my God . . .” I moan, my hips moving on their own accord. Within a minute, he has me right on the edge of a powerful orgasm. My entire body is shaking, vibrating, pulsating with the need to release all of this built up need, desire . . .

Love.

The heat of his tongue thrashing against my clit is gone all too soon. Effortlessly, he pulls me down onto his lap, cupping my ass so that only the tip of his body is entering mine. “Are you sure? Because I can–”

I can think of no better way of shutting him up than sinking down onto him with torturous slowness. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” Burying him deep inside, I wrap him in my arms.