Page 10 of Falling for the Bad Boy Firefighter
The way he says my name—soft around the edges, despite the gruffness of his voice—makes something in my chest tighten.
"Is that good or bad?" I ask, aiming for lightness but hearing the breathlessness in my own voice.
Jax's hand comes up, surprisingly gentle as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The brush of his fingers against my skin sends electricity coursing through me.
"I haven't decided yet," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're... unexpected."
Coming from him, it feels like the highest compliment.
"Jax," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for, only knowing that the space between us feels like too much.
"Tell me you don't want this," he says, his voice rough with restraint. "Tell me, and I'll walk away."
But I can't say it. Because it would be a lie, and I've had enough of those between our families.
Instead, I rise on my tiptoes, closing the distance between us. For a heartbeat, we're suspended in the moment—his breath warm on my face, his eyes searching mine.
Then his control snaps. His mouth crashes down on mine, hungry and demanding. His hands slide to my waist, gripping the soft curves with a possessiveness that makes me gasp against his lips.
I'm backed against the bookshelves before I realize we're moving, the solid wood a welcome support as my knees threaten to give way. Jax kisses like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this moment longer than he'll ever admit.
One of his hands slides up to cradle my face, surprisingly tender compared to the urgency of his lips. I let my hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath cotton, before sliding up to tangle in his hair.
He groans when I tug gently, the sound vibrating through me, igniting fires I didn't know existed. His body presses against mine, his thigh slipping between my legs, and I feel myself melting into him, all thoughts of history and feuds evaporating like morning mist.
I've never been kissed like this—like I'm something precious and wild all at once, like I'm a revelation. His stubble rasps againstmy skin, the slight burn a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips.
Then, just as I feel myself surrendering completely to the moment, a sharp knock echoes through the building above us.
We break apart, breathless and disoriented. Jax's eyes are dark with desire, his chest rising and falling rapidly. My lips feel swollen, tingling from his kiss.
"Security check," a voice calls from upstairs. "Ms. Clark? Your car's still in the lot."
It's Officer Michaels, making his nightly rounds.
Jax chuckles, the sound low and intimate in the quiet room. "Guess history's watching us after all."
I can't help the small laugh that escapes me, even as I try to steady my racing heart. "I should probably let him know everything's fine."
Jax steps back, giving me space, though his eyes still burn with unspoken promises. "Is it, though?" he asks softly. "Fine?"
I smooth my hair, trying to collect myself, but I can't keep the smile from my face—bright and genuine in a way I rarely allow myself to be.
"No," I admit, meeting his gaze. "It's better than fine."
And for once, I don't care what anyone in Fox Ridge might think about that.
Chapter 5 – Jax
Light cuts across my face like a blade, dragging me from a sleep deeper than I've had in months. I throw an arm over my eyes, blocking out the morning sun that filters through blinds I forgot to close last night. My body feels different—looser somehow, the permanent knot of tension between my shoulders temporarily unraveled.
For one blissful moment, I hover in that space between sleeping and waking, where nothing matters except the warmth of my bed and the quiet of my apartment.
Then it hits me.
Penny Clark. The Historical Society. That kiss.
Shit.
