Burning For Him : A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  CONTENTS

  Burning For Him

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Three Months Later

  One Year Later

  Five Years Later

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  INKED BY LOVE

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  BURNING FOR HIM

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 300

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  BURNING FOR HIM

  Bridget

  Monday morning. Another day, another dollar. But today’s a little different at the office, and my boss hasn’t let me forget it either.

  Fire drill.

  Like most other things, the boss should organize herself it’s left to me to arrange and be responsible for everything while she takes the credit as usual.

  My job?

  Give everyone the heads up, including the fire department. Press the bell and count everyone off as we all go outside to enjoy an extended coffee break.

  Easy, right?

  I thought so too.

  Until our little practice run turns into a real-life fire, and all my planning and box-checking proves just one thing: You can’t always plan for the unexpected.

  I guess that’s why they call them emergencies or accidents.

  Nobody willingly locks themselves in a burning building. And nobody wants to have to jump to save their own skin.

  But this short, thick, and slightly heavy girl doesn’t have a choice. Especially not when she sees who’s gonna catch her.

  My hero is an older, mature man with a body even I can see from three stories up that would put men half his age to shame.

  A firefighter who happens to be in the right place at the right time on his day off.

  If I land on him, he’s also the only one big enough to stand a chance at standing, let alone still breathe.

  He commands me to trust him, to take that leap of faith. To step out off the ledge and just drop right into his arms.

  To know he’ll be there to catch me. To save me, and once I do, I know he’s gonna keep me safe for a lot longer than just a few minutes.

  But once I do, I feel myself falling more than just a few floors.

  I’ve fallen longer, deeper, and harder for him than anyone ever could.

  The tricky part? Trying to explain all this to my nagging self-doubts. Wondering if an older guy as amazing as Ash could even think about a girl like me in that way.

  But most of all, trying to find a way to keep it from my controlling parents.

  Falling for the fireman is a no-brainer.

  But trusting my heart and my gut when everything else falls apart?

  That’s the kind of stuff that real heroes make you believe.

  The kind of stuff Ash promises me.

  Promising he’ll never let go. No matter what.

  Ash

  Before I even meet her, I’d already seen her.

  I mean, I’ve really seen her. And not just from across the street either.

  She’s the one. I just know she is.

  Something in my blood and bones tells me she’s why I’ve waited so long.

  I’ve seen our future, our home. Our family.

  And I’m just the man to provide her and ours with everything they need.

  I’ve been ordered off duty for a few days. Thirty-seven days straight isn’t the kind of record my Chief likes, so it’s a forced mini-vacation for me.

  And then I see her.

  After that, I’m a mess. I can only think about that brief glimpse—the life I can see clearer in my mind than anything else.

  Just one problem. She doesn’t know me from a bar of soap.

  I could track her down and trace her to the building I saw her go into.

  But then what?

  ‘Hi! I’m an off-duty fireman, and I’m here to rescue you, take you away to a life you’ve only dreamed of.’

  That would never work.

  She must be half my age too. But I can’t forget those curves.

  Her hair.

  The way she moved.

  If only there was some way to see her again. Something not so obvious, so I could at least get to know her a bit. Find out if she could really go for an older, more mature guy.

  I know it’s destiny. I’ve never been so sure of anything.

  She will be mine, somehow.

  And when she is, it’s a forever deal.

  Fireman’s promise.

  * Burning For Him is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Bridget

  Way before I even have to be at work tomorrow morning, let alone thinking about it, I’m getting those passive-aggressive little reminder texts from my boss, Karen.

  The ones that match the emails and those stupid sticky notes she insists on putting on everything. Telling me three different ways what I already know.

  Fire drill in the morning at the office, and it’s on me to make sure it goes off without a hitch.

  I wouldn’t mind normally, but apart from having my night ruined by messages from the boss, I know it’ll be Karen who tells the branch manager it was all her doing.

  She’ll take the credit, and I’ll be ignored as usual.

  As many people do nowadays, working from home would be perfect for me, except that the bank I work for said no. And then there are my parents….

  Trying to get anything done around them on a good day is impossible.

  So, I'm thinking about work despite my best efforts to enjoy my TV series binge and finish the last of the half-gallon of Rocky Road I bought.

  Karen.

  Work.

  Freaking Karen.

  Work.

  A gentle rapping on my door makes me look up from my phone. My Mom always knocks as she opens the door.

  Gotta love living at home….

  “Honey? Don’t forget…,” she starts, crimping her mouth and lowering her face so I can see her eyes.


  “I know, Mom,” I drone, fighting the urge to growl at her.

  “Fire drill tomorrow. Karen just texted me like three times already.”

  “You’re lucky she looks out for you, Bridget. I was only trying to help,” Mom clips, looking further down, pouting now and letting me see it. Letting me know I’ve hurt her feelings.

  “I haven’t forgotten, Mom,” I sigh, forcing a little smile, screaming in my mind.

  I wonder if I’m the only sane person on the planet, let alone in this household.

  “That’s better,” Mom says, easing herself into my room just enough to lift the ice cream carton out of my hands.

  “I don’t think this is gonna help you lose that puppy fat now, is it?” she asks me. “And it’ll play hell tomorrow with your allergies,” she adds.

  Again with that look.

  Even though I know she’s right. I just wish they’d stop treating me like I’m twelve. Mom and Dad are great, really supportive. But they’re just so…I dunno.

  Weird.

  Always fussing over nothing, sounding like they’re waiting for the world to end if we don’t all follow the rules. Do the right thing, including taking my job at the bank’s office where one of dad’s friend’s arranged an interview for me.

  His daughter Karen is my boss.

  Yay, me, so I can’t tell Karen what I really think of her without my parents finding out and probably losing said job in the process.

  Ugh.

  I feel somewhat trapped, but every time I bring up the idea of moving out, both Mom and Dad start acting even stranger. Worrying about the ‘what ifs’ and ‘don’t I know how dangerous it’s out there?’ Blah. Blah. Blah.

  I’m nineteen, for god’s sake, and I work full time. Handing over most everything I get to my parents anyway. ‘For your future, sweetie. We won’t be around forever…,’ Dad likes to remind me. But I know they don’t spend it.

  “I’ll get an early night then, I guess,” I shrug to my Mom, faking a yawn and only mentioning it to save her from saying it anyway.

  Even though it’s practically still daylight outside. At least I’ll be left in peace if I just go to bed.

  “G’night, sweetie. Dad will drive you in the morning,” Mom chimes in her sing-song voice again before closing my door.

  I slump back in my bed, turning down the TV volume and wondering and hoping that someday, I’ll somehow find a way to get out of here.

  Despite everything, I fall asleep quickly. A faint smile plays on my lips as I imagine a tall, dark, well-built, handsome hero coming to save me.

  Somehow.

  Just like in those shows I watch. All those romance novels I pretend not to be engrossed in every lunch hour.

  True to his word, and just like any other weekday, my Dad drives me from the burbs into the city first thing in the morning. A good forty minutes out of his own way, but like me moving out, the idea I could actually get myself to work seems impossible to them.

  It’s just easier to have him drive me.

  Saves me the stress of hearing him list off all the things that could go wrong. How much extra it would cost, that sort of thing.

  “I’ll see you at five,” Dad says absently, glancing up at the darkening sky through the streaming drizzle on his windshield.

  “I told you to bring an umbrella,” he murmurs. “Take the one from the trunk.”

  “I’ll be fine, Dad,” I remind him, leaning over to peck his cheek. I tell him he’ll be late, which shifts his attention from the rain to the time.

  Checking I have everything before I close the door, I’m startled by a car honking, then feel all of Monday welcoming me to work.

  A spray of dirty water from the passing car on the road ruins my outfit, and I just know it’s gonna be one of those days.

  Dad wants to fuss about it, but I shoo him away. I tell him I’m fine and turn to make the short dash to the ancient-looking building, shining from the rain, water spouting from the stone gargoyles on each corner of the rooftop five stories up.

  I feel a shiver, but it’s not from the cold. Not from the creepy old building that looks more like a haunted manor than my workplace.

  A different kind of shiver. Like someone’s been watching me.

  It’s not a creepy feeling either, instead, it makes me feel all warm inside. It’s just as well because I’m soaked through and would normally be in tears by now.

  I turn before going inside, wondering if someone really is watching me, but there’s just the usual city traffic. A car honking and a truck moving off from the lights opposite.

  Making my way to the ladies' room, I figure a few minutes under the hand dryer should dry most of the water. But it won’t do much for the condition of my poor skirt and blouse.

  “Jesus, Bridget!” A familiar voice exclaims.

  Karen, my boss, says, coming out of one of the stalls. “You look like hell. What happened?” she asks, and I open my mouth to tell her. But that’s not how Karen operates. She starts talking before I can even draw a breath.

  “Don’t forget. Fire drill at ten thirty sharp,” she clips, flattening her mouth as she scans my body. Clicking her tongue with disappointment.

  “And for god’s sake, clean yourself up. What if management came down here? I don’t want them thinking I’d let that in the office,” she exclaims, pointing at my outfit and shaking her head.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” I grind through my teeth. “…And yes, I’m about to dry myself off.” I somehow manage to get out those words without losing my mind.

  She’s quick to leave before remarking that it’s on me if anything goes wrong with the drill.

  It’s a good ten to fifteen minutes before I even look half decent enough. But at least I’m dry again. Not that anyone except Karen would notice. The office is a pretty cheerless place. Being the youngest and most unexciting, I only ever get attention when someone needs blaming.

  But a job’s a job. And a glance at the in-tray on my desk lets me know it.

  Here for work, Bridget, not a super-happy fun time.

  The thought makes me giggle to myself, and I can’t help but think about how I felt before I came in. Before I got splashed.

  I dunno…It really felt like something from the world reaching out to me. Like something or someone that I couldn’t see actually cared for once.

  Weird. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time at home with my parents.

  Maybe their weirdness is rubbing off on me.

  No time to dwell on fantasies, though. And as much as I hate to admit it, Karen’s just being a boss. I can tell at a glance that I have a ton of other stuff to get through before the fire drill.

  That little part of me wonders if she’s deliberately heaped more work than usual on me. A question she answers herself when she pokes her head around my cubicle, with more files piled high in her arms.

  “Bridget. I’ve been called away to an urgent meeting with a client this morning. I’ll leave these to you to deal with…along with the drill,” she says, dropping the files on my desk before checking her watch.

  I watch them slide into my existing work, messing up everything I’ve already organized so far.

  “If you need to stay later to get it done, it’ll mean less for you to do tomorrow,” she smirks.

  A sigh of satisfaction to herself is all I hear before she makes one of her typical exits for the day—leaving all her work to others so she can do who knows what while still keeping her job as boss.

  I’m used to her shenanigans, but today really does look like she’s put a lot of effort in to make sure I’m overwhelmed. I can’t say it isn’t working either. But I need to make sure I don’t let her see she’s getting the best of me.

  With a slightly trembling hand, I make the call to the fire department once she’s left, letting them know we’re having our scheduled fire drill.

  I'd probably just cry if it wasn’t for the drill and my responsibilities or that feeling I’ve had since getting o
ut of the car earlier.

  But the feeling lingers. The good one, not the work one.

  The feeling that there is good in the world and today might just be the day it somehow falls right into my lap.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ash

  A day off or several days off is what the chief wants from me. He actually orders me.

  Springing it on me first thing on a Monday morning too.

  “A week?” I groan, noticing the red marker that he uses to update the roster.

  He draws a long, thick line through the squares filled with my name.

  “You’ve ignored my warning about the need for downtime. And you’ve ignored the department’s recommendations for retirement too long, Ash,” he frowns, looking hard as granite before softening his features.

  “If you weren’t the best damned Captain this station’s ever seen, I’d insist on your retirement,” he says, eyeing the roster and winking at me. Clicking his tongue as he notes all the extra shifts I’ve already agreed to cover for some of the other guys in advance.

  His bulldog face and bushy gray mustache pucker up behind the empty cherry wood pipe he has stuck in his mouth whenever he’s on duty.

  Off-duty, Stack’s pipe is always full and blowing so much smoke it’s a no-brainer where he got his nickname.

  Stack. As in chimney stack.

  “…and no bumming around the station either. I wanna see you on a proper vacation or something,” he cautions me, finally relaxing and shaking his head with a faint smile.