Will Alexandra and Eli Spark a New Flame in This Sexy Novel?

In Kate Meader's new book Playing With Fire, the second installment in her sizzling Hot in Chicago series, sole female firefighter at Engine Co. 6 Alexandra Dempsey has had enough of getting it from all sides: the male co-workers who think she can't do the job, the wives and girlfriends who see her as a threat to their firefighter men, and her overprotective foster brothers who want to shelter their baby sister at all costs. She wants to be respected — no, revered — for the role she plays in protecting Chicago's citizens, curvy hips or not. So when she single-handedly saves the life of Eli Cooper, the city's devastatingly handsome mayor, she assumes the respect she's longed for will finally come her way. But it seems Mr. Mayor has other ideas . . .

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"You need to be taken in hand," he rasped, every word a provocative puff of air against her lips. "You are wayward and out of control and a danger to yourself, and if I wasn't your boss, if I wasn't worried about all the lines I've no doubt crossed every additional second I spend with you, I would be the one to tame you."

Do it, her lust-scrambled brain urged. Take me in hand. Use those big, forceful hands to take me and tame me.

"I'm not some animal to be domesticated, Eli," she goaded, knowing he would enjoy her spirit.

But not enough, apparently. Some inner battle raged on his face, and the winner, unfortunately, was common sense. The hand that would not tame her fell away. The body that would have no part in her domestication inched back, its masculine heat replaced by the cool chill of regret.

Sagging in her own skin, she tried to push her shoulders higher to mask her disappointment. Which is when he stepped into what little personal space she had and lowered his lips to hers.

She should pull away, even though she had begged for it with her smart mouth. She should punish him for every crime he'd perpetrated. For being too good-looking, too sexy, too everything. But the kiss was like him—just too damn good. Warm and brutal, providing answers to questions she never knew she had. He teased with his tongue along the seam of her mouth, seeking that last nudge of acceptance as if it was his God-given right.

She parted her lips, and like a predator hinged on her threshold, he took.

The kiss turned wet and deep, velvety luxurious in its sweep across her mouth, its obliteration of her senses. He curled his hand around her neck and anchored it at her nape, as though he needed that to hold on. That strange notion thrilled her. He was taming her, but also fanning the flames of revolution. He was dominating her, but exhorting her to meet him beat for booming beat. She had never felt more . . . equal to another man.

She drew back, breathless. Changed.

"I wonder what would happen if I kissed you somewhere else," he whispered thickly between brain-destroying kisses. "If I licked and sucked you where you need it most." He scraped his shadowed jaw against her cheek. "Tell me where you need it most, Alexandra."

Speech was impossible. Verbalizing her need was tantamount to begging, so instead she took his hand and placed it between her legs.

"That's my girl. Never be afraid to tell me what you need." After a few lascivious rubs against the seam, he unbuttoned her jeans and drew down her zipper. Agonizing in its slowness. With a testing finger, he pulled at the front of her panties.

"How many?"

"What?"

"When I asked you earlier how many fingers were considered too handsy, you thought of the ideal number to fill you. I know you did. How many?"

Get out of my head, Eli Cooper.

Not patient enough to wait for a response, he slipped one—not ideal—finger into her panties. Deeper. Oh God oh God. A hiss escaped his lips on finding her drenched and swollen in readiness for him. She tightened around his finger, an involuntary reflex.

He groaned. "Need an answer."

"Two," she gasped as his thumb pad brushed across her clit. The first orgasm was amazing, this second one was going to make that one look like— oh sh*t! She had no ready comparison because he plunged two fingers inside her, pumped her once, twice, three times, and sent her hurtling off the ledge. Again.

What the hell was he doing to her?

Control. She needed to grasp it now and wreck him like he'd done her. Panting her way back to an even draw, she reached for him. Jeans, unzipped. Shirttails, out. Hands, all over him. His eyes never left hers, steadier than her heartbeat, steadier than her hands.

How could he be so calm?

Time to muss this guy up. She palmed the hard glory she found between his muscular thighs. The fabric of his boxer briefs felt silky thin, too thin to contain the power bristling behind it.

"Alexandra," he grated as he rocked into her hand, eyelids falling to half-mast. Those two ideal fingers were still buried between her thighs like they had found home sweet home. Now they rubbed against her twanging flesh, mimicking the motion of her hand on his erection, earning their goddamn keep. It had never happened before, but it was starting to look like three times would be the charm—and this time, she wanted all his power inside her.

Get Playing With Fire, and check out more great content on XOXO After Dark:

XOXO Quicke: Let's Talk Beards, Bras, and Tattoos!
Kate Meader's Hot Fireman-on-Fireman Love Story!