Her gaze dropped from that scarred brow to his mouth. Way too dangerous. Also too sexy-looking for his own good, for hers—his smile too easy on the eyes, his everything too easy on the eyes.

“Brooke?”

“Don’t I hear a fire bell?” she managed.

He chuckled softly. “No, but nice try.” He shifted to let her move past him, but somehow they ended up bumping against each other, softness to hardness. For a brief breath she closed her eyes and allowed herself to absorb it—his scent, his proximity, the feel of him brushing up against her.

She’d had no idea how much she’d craved this nearness, a physical touch; that it was him, the object of her secret nighttime fantasies, only intensified the sensation.

He put his hands on her arms, sensuously slid them up and down, and she forgot they were in the firehouse, forgot that they should really make at least an attempt to be discreet. Hell, she forgot to breathe. “Zach.” She tore her gaze from his and looked at his mouth.

A mouth that let out a low, rough sound of hunger, and then, blessedly, finally, was on hers, and then she was kissing him with her mouth, with her entire body, and most likely her heart and soul, because, good Lord, the man could kiss. He gave her everything—his hands, his body, his tongue—and when they broke apart for air, he stared down at her in astonishment. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Just damn.” Eyes a little dazed, he took a step back, looking off his axis enough to send a surge of lust and power skittering through her, but she managed to control herself. Controlled and composed. Yeah, that was her, one hundred percent put together.

With hard nipples.

And a telling dampness between her thighs.

“You ever feel anything like that before?” he asked.

“Truthfully? It’s been so long, I can’t remember.”

His soft but not necessarily amused laugh ruffled the hair at her temple and ran down her spine. “Love your honesty.”

She didn’t. And she didn’t love the idea that anyone could have seen that wild kiss they’d just shared. What was the matter with her? She turned away, but he caught her, a hand curving around her shoulder. “Don’t go.”

She needed to. So needed to. “Listen, maybe we could forget about this, at least until I figure out what it is.”

His hand slid down her arm, settling on her waist, where his thumb lazily stroked one of her ribs. The motion liquefied her bones and altered her breath. “Forget it? I don’t think that’s possible. Did you feel that?”