Matt

A relentless throbbing in my head matched the dull ache in my chest as I slowly came to consciousness the following morning. I groaned, my mouth as dry as the Sahara with the bitter aftertaste of cheap booze assaulting my tongue as the weight of the night before crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, cruelly highlighting the disarray of my office. I was lying on my office couch, a small throw blanket tossed over me. One leg was hanging off the sofa and the other was stiff and cramped as I sat up, cringing at the dull ache in my head. Squinting against the window's light, I fumbled for my phone, eventually found under my ass, tucked between the cushions. I had twelve new texts and six missed calls, some from Renee, and the others from Jake and Aaron. Each message weighed on me, and with guilt pressing down on my chest, I dialed Renee's number, my trembling fingers betraying me. The phone rang, and with each passing second, my heartbeat quickened until it went to voicemail.

"Fuck," I muttered, standing up to slip the phone into my pocket. I swayed a little where I stood, the hangover taunting me from every inch of my body. I couldn't blame her for not picking up; I had a lot of groveling to do. The events of last night played out like a bad movie in my mind. The bar, talking to Jami, the reckless drinking and driving—Renee wouldn't be pleased, and I couldn't blame her. I'd managed to screw this thing up even further. If she never forgave me, I wouldn't even be able to fight it.

With a groan, I slipped out of my office door and walked down the hallway. It was quiet this morning, and when I glanced at my watch I realized that most of my staff were likely downstairs getting their morning workout in. I remembered that Vicki had put me to bed; had she told anyone of the unfortunate circumstances of my arrival? Doubtful. She was a good friend. A better one than I'd ever been.

I made my way to the firehouse kitchen and pushed the door open, preparing to make coffee, but I stopped in the doorway when I spotted her first. Tameka was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes for the crew. She looked up at me as I entered, and the sudden tension in the room thickened. I hesitated, considering turning around and making an escape, but I couldn't do that. I had to face the music at some point, and here we were.

"Hey, Matt," she said cautiously. "You okay? Can I get you anything?"

My temper flared, my hangover amplifying my frustration as I remembered her threatening words of informing Renee about our kiss before I'd told her myself. "I'm fine," I snapped. "I don't need your help. And it's Captain, to you."

Tameka bit her lip, her eyes welling with hurt. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble between you and Renee," she said softly, but I couldn't hold back my anger any longer.

"You didn't just cause trouble," I spat out, regret and self-loathing poisoning my words. "I love Renee, and I regret the kiss with you. You came onto me, Tameka. Fuck, I shouldn't even be talking to you." I ran a hand through my unruly hair, wishing I was anywhere but here. Tameka's face flushed with anger.

"You don't have to be so harsh," she retorted, her voice trembling. "If I can recall correctly, you kissed me back."

"Hardly."

She turned off the stove and stormed out of the kitchen, knocking my shoulder on her way, leaving me alone with the scalding silence. The guilt that had been gnawing at me intensified. I hurt Tameka, and I had hurt Renee even more. I was the jerk here, not them, and it was evident that I was quickly losing friends and making enemies.

With a sigh, I stepped over to the stove and turned off the burner, wondering if I should make my escape now before my crew got back and I ended up having to answer a thousand questions I didn't want to focus on. As I turned to leave, to make my great escape, the kitchen door squealed open again. I turned, expecting Tameka or another of my crew, but I stopped dead when Renee appeared in the doorway. A large box of donuts was perched in one hand, and her eyes caught mine. I couldn't read her expression, but a flood of relief passed through me. If she was here, she hadn't damned me yet.

"Ren," I said softly. For a moment she looked like she might just change her mind and bolt, but then a second later she smiled. It was tight-lipped and uncertain, but it was there.

"Hey, Matty. I brought breakfast for the crew."

"They're downstairs in the gym, I think, but they'll be pleased as shit to ruin their progress with the sugar," I said with a grin. I watched as Renee stepped into the kitchen, dispensing the donut box on top of the table before turning to face me again.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" she asked, and a tremor of weariness traveled through me. This would be good or bad, I didn't know which yet.

"My office," I said, and Renee nodded once, heading down the hallway to my office door. She stepped inside and I stepped in after her, closing the door behind us. Renee turned to look at me, leaning her hips against the front of my desk as she folded her arms in front of her, eyes scanning my face.

"I was worried about you last night," she said. "You weren't in a good place."

"No. I wasn't."

"Neither was I," she admitted. "And I'm—I'm sorry for walking out after your confession. That wasn't very 'bigger person' of me."

"You had no obligation to stay." I cleared my throat and folded my own arms across my chest as the tension between us built. She looked good for having a rough night, dressed in a black skirt, and a button-up blouse, with her fiery red hair in tendrils over her shoulders and down her back. She pulled her lip between her teeth to nibble on it, and I wanted desperately to kiss her, to take her, to fuck her silly right there on my desk.

"I was angry," she continued, looking around the room. Sitting on the desk was a photo of us, back in college. I had one arm around Renee's shoulder and was pulling her into me as we sat on the hood of her old car. She was mid-laughter as I said something in her ear. It was one of my favorite photos, and Renee stared at it for a moment before speaking again. "I was angry at you, but, really, I was angry at me."

"Why would you ever be angry at yourself? I'm the one who fucked up, Ren."

She sighed, looking away to ponder something before meeting my eyes again. "You kissed another girl, Matt, but I kiss two other men every day, and you still love me."

"Yeah, well, that was the deal we all made."

She nodded but didn't seem entirely convinced. "I wake up every day and wonder what I did to deserve the love and devotion of you and Jake and Aaron," she said. "And I realized that I can't be this angry with you. I can't, in good conscience, be this hurt. You made a mistake, and you admitted it." She pushed herself off the desk and took a step toward me, and then another. I could smell the sweet perfume she wore lingering in her locks. "I guess the question I have for you is—do you still love me?"

I scoffed, but only out of surprise as I reached out, placing my hands on Renee's hips and pulling her into me. "Ren, baby, I never stopped loving you, and I never will."

She kissed me then, arching up on her tip-toes to press her red lips against mine, one hand bracing the back of my head as she slipped her tongue between my lips and explored my mouth with hers. Dainty hands ran up and down my arms and chest as we kissed, and one of my free hands tangled itself in her hair. I pulled her head back, exposing her neck, and kissed her, nibbling on the sensitive skin near her collarbone. Renee moaned, reaching a hand behind me to lock the door from the inside.

"I missed you," she whispered breathlessly, pressing her forehead against mine. "I missed this."

Still kissing her, I picked Renee up and set her down on the edge of my desk, pushing her skirt up before falling to my knees and removing her panties with my teeth. I flung them aside and entered her with my tongue. She was wet, ready for me, and I lapped up her juices as she moaned with desire, hands weaving in my hair. She threw her head back as I played with her clit, a cry of erotic anguish slipping from between her lips.

"Fuck," she moaned. "Don't stop."

"I won't," I promised her. "I won't ever fucking stop, baby."