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and belly down on his bed, the blankets covering his butt and little else. But the air in his room held little of the chill that had greeted me, meaning he was in a deep enough sleep that caution had fallen by the wayside and instinct had taken over. He was radiating enough heat to warm not just his body, but the entire room.
    â€œHey!” I lightly kicked the foot hanging off the end of the bed. “Time to get ready for work.”
    He didn’t respond, so I kicked the foot again. This time he muttered something I suspected wasn’t polite. I grinned and kicked him a little harder. He grunted, and this time the muttering was definitely a word. “Bitch,” to be precise.
    â€œYou’re on morning shift, remember, and your captain
did
warn you last week not to be late again.”
    He rolled over onto his back, and the rest of the blankets slipped from the bed onto the floor. He worked out in the gym and ran around the nearby Tan Track—a 3.8-kilometer stone aggregate track around the beautiful Botanic Gardens—so he was slender but well toned, with long, lean legs, a flat stomach, broad shoulders, and well-defined arms.
    And he was, I noticed with amusement, more than a little horny this morning.
    I walked around the bed and flung open the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, turning his red hair—which was a feature of all phoenixes—to copper and highlighting the dust and the mess. One thing Rory had never been was tidy.
    â€œFuck,” he muttered, his deep voice gravelly and harsh as he flung up an arm to shield his eyes. “That’s just cruel.”
    â€œI thought you liked your job.”
    â€œI do, but—”
    â€œThe only butt I want,” I said, unreasonably cheered by the fact that I wasn’t alone in feeling shitty, “is yours climbing out of that bed and into a shower pronto.”
    A devilish light began to gleam in the warm amber depths of his eyes. “I’ve got a better idea.”
    My grin grew, but before I could actually react, he lunged forward, grabbed my arm, and dragged me down onto the bed beside him. For good measure, he threw a leg over the top of mine to prevent me from escaping, though I hadn’t actually tried.
    â€œHow about you and I waste a little time and energy?” he murmured, as he tugged at the dressing gown’s sash.
    â€œHow about you try to keep this job a little longer than six months,” I said wryly, even as I gave in to temptation and let my fingers play over his well-defined arms. It would only encourage him, but the fires within hungered for closeness, warmth, and caring—no doubt to counter the cold darkness I’d faced last night.
    â€œThey won’t sack me.” His expression became distracted as the sash came undone. “I’m too good a fireman, and they know it.”
    He slipped a hand underneath the silky material and traced a line along the length of my hip with one heated finger, skimming the scars as tenderly as the rest of me. My breathing hitched a little and the pulse of excitement grew. But as much as I wanted to give in, I didn’t. Not only because he actually
liked
this job, but because he also liked the people he worked with, and it was the first time in the four years since Jody—his human fiancée—died that he’d actually cared about anything or anyone beyond those in ourimmediate circle. Despite his current nonchalance, I knew it would hit him hard if he was fired.
    So I ignored those deliciously trailing fingertips and slapped his arm. “Enough. Go take a shower. A very
cold
shower.”
    His gaze rose to mine, and a reluctant grin stretched his kissable lips. “You, my darling girl, are going to be the death of me.”
    â€œActually,” I said primly, “I believe I already have been. Two lifetimes ago, in fact.”
    â€œThree,” he muttered; then, with a groan, he released me and climbed off the bed.