Tempted: A Steamy Friends to Lovers Firefighter Romance

Firefighter Fabian Santos would usually be annoyed he's stuck in the ER getting examined, but he has a chance to flirt with his big 'what-if' - ER clerk Cassie Odon. One naughty kiss later and she’s making him an offer he can’t refuse.

ER clerk Cassie Odon told herself not to get her hopes up over the sexy Fabian Santos. He breezed in and of her life once, and today might be no different. She doesn't know he's been keeping a secret from her and is going to straighten things out between them once and for all.

Provided he ever makes it to their date. . .

How humiliating. First, she flirted with the sexy firefighter, then she got exposed to toxic chemicals, and now the sexy firefighter actually carried her away from work.

Fabian Santos had always struck her as something of a flirt. The first night they met in Vegas, he'd hinted they might be more, but never followed through.

She'd had more than a few highly inappropriate firefighter fantasies staring Fabian Santos, and she might have kept an eye out to see if he ever dropped a patient off at MetroGen. Why wouldn't she? She knew first hand from their dances and flirting in Vegas he was fun and he could dance. The semi-improptu stripper troupe to get James and Caroline back together proved he had an amazing body. 

Which made it okay to have a few fantasies about him.

Except a toxic gas exposure accompanied by a decontamination shower had not once been on her list of universal firefighter fantasies. 

Fabian pointed to the open shower. “Step in and give me your clothes.”

“Turn around.” Cassie kicked off her flats and closed the curtain. She tried to remember what underwear she’d worn today. Sexy or functional? “You can go somewhere else.”

“I would, but your clothes are contaminated, and I don’t want a second shower if I get whacked in the head with them.”

She tossed the scrub pants and her T-shirt over the top of the shower. Luckily, laundry day had gifted her with a white lace bra and panty set, which followed her clothes. “Can you go now?”

The bra and panties landed back on her side. “Put them back on, please.”

“You told me to strip.”

“I did not,” he protested from the other side of the curtain.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. I said ‘clothes.’”

“You said my clothes were contaminated. Why am I putting these back on?”

“Those don’t seem touched, so you can keep them. We have to deal with your hair, and I doubt you want to be naked during it. I have trauma shears.”

Her brain filtered out the naked comment. Then his intent dawned on her. “You want to cut my hair?”

“You have to wash your hair,′ he said wearily. “Since when are synthetic braid extensions washable?”

“No, but…”

“‘But’ what?” Now it sounded like he was standing right next to her.

“Then people will see my hair. Without product or styling.”

“I’m sure they’ve seen messy Black hair before.”

“I don’t care what they’ve seen. I love my hair, but I don’t want to be at my job with awful, dry hair because I couldn’t get it oiled.” Cassie didn’t regret cultivating her appearance one bit.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’ll just go down to the cafeteria and steal olive oil.”

“Are you being a jerk?”

“Absolutamente no. Solo quiero que te sientas bien.” He responded in Spanish. ”Eu adoraria beijar seu pescoço por trás e provar sua linda boca gloriosa.”

“That last part wasn’t Spanish,” she said, re-snapping her bra.

“Spanish and Portuguese, paixão, the languages of love.” His voice suddenly dropped deeper.

“I thought that was French.”

“They’re missing out. Once your good parts are covered, I’ll wrap you in a towel while we deal with your hair.”

A towel flopped over her side, and she slid out with it on. Flirting with the hot shirtless firefighter was one thing. Sitting next to him half-naked in a towel with him half-naked and letting him cut her hair…

That was far too intimate.

“Can’t you put a shirt on, Fabio?”

He gave her a sly grin. “Do you want my shirt on?”

Cassie hedged, because as far as she was concerned, he should always be shirtless. He might have been even sexier now than he had been three years ago. “Maybe if you weren’t so arrogant about it.”

“You’re just mad because we’re cutting off your poisoned hair.”

She poked him in the chest, tingles spreading up her fingers when they touched his smooth tan skin. “Don’t think I won’t use those trauma shears on your balls.”

He glanced down at her hand, still on his chest, daring her to do more. Cassie didn’t move, so he walked his fingers down her hand to her wrist, guiding her hand away while he glided closer.

“The first cut—me or you?” He picked up the tie at the end of an extension.

“I’ll do the first one.” She borrowed the shears to snip off the tie and the end of the red braid.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said.

“Speak for yourself.” She threw the end of the braid into the nearby trash can.

“I will.” He plucked the trauma shears out of her hand, grabbed his OWN bangs, and cut them off...