Page 19 of Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties

I pressed my back against the wall, wishing it would swallow me whole.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, hating how unconvincing I sounded.

“Sure, you don’t,” he murmured, his lips quirking up in a small smile as he took another step closer.

He was so close now that I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of smoke and cedarwood clinging to his skin. It was intoxicating, and my traitorous body leaned ever so slightly toward him, even as my mind screamed at me to stop.

“Colt,” I said, my voice trembling. “We can’t…”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us, his hand coming up to cradle my jaw as his lips crashed against mine.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was raw and consuming and everything I’d been trying so hard to ignore since the moment I laid eyes on him.

My resolve crumbled in an instant. I kissed him back with a desperation that surprised even me, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as he pressed me harder against the wall.

For a moment, nothing else existed. Not the dinner, not the awkwardness with Jaxon, not the guilt. Just Colt… his lips, his hands, his heat.

But then reality came crashing back.

I broke the kiss, pushing against his chest as I turned my head away.

“This is wrong,” I whispered, my voice thick with guilt.

Colt stepped back immediately, his brows furrowed as he studied me. “Lila...”

“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head as I slipped past him and back down the hall.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

Because if I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk away.

CHAPTERSIX

Colt

The smellof burned coffee and grease hung heavy in the air, the unofficial cologne of every firehouse in America.

I leaned back in my chair, propping my boots up on the corner of the table as Nate rambled on about the annual ski trip.

Same story, different year. He’d booked the cabins, wrangled the usual suspects, and was already planning which slopes he was going to embarrass himself on.

“Colt,” Nate said, snapping his fingers in my direction, “you’re in, right? Don’t tell me you’re bailing this year.”

I smirked, tipping my chair back on two legs. “Please. Like I’d miss watching you try to snowboard again. It’s the highlight of my year.”

The guys around the table laughed, and Nate flipped me off, but there was no malice behind it. We’d been trading insults since day one, and neither of us ever let the other forget their most embarrassing moments.

“So, who’s coming this year?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. “Same crew as last time?”

Nate started listing names, but I was only half listening. My mind wandered, not to the trip itself, but to the possibility of spicing it up. And by “spicing it up,” I meant one specific person who hadn’t been on a trip with us before.

Lila.

The thought of her at a ski cabin—bundled up in sweaters, maybe laughing as she tried to stay upright on skis, her cheeks pink from the cold—was enough to make me grin. I didn’t even try to stop the mental image from forming.

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