Page 8 of Let it Sizzle
That dress? It’s cut low, like sin. Her full, perfect tits pushing against soft fabric, swaying just enough to make me adjust my stance. Her curves move like she doesn’t even know every damn man here is watching her. Like she has no clue what she’s doing to me just by walking.
The fire I’ve been barely holding onto since the grocery store roars to life. Every cell in my body tightens. My mouthdries. My cock twitches like it knows exactly who it wants, and how long it’s been denied her.
Byron slaps my shoulder once and pushes off the cooler. “There she is,” he says, already making his way toward her. “Told them I’d meet them at the entrance.”
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just watch him wrap her in a hug like he’s got no idea I’m standing over here fighting not to lose it. He hugs Samira too, says something I can’t hear over the chatter, and the three of them head toward the food tables.
That’s when Maddox appears beside me, his eyes tracking the same sway of hips I haven’t stopped staring at since she stepped onto the lot.
“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “That’s Byron’s out of town sister? Damn. She’s hot.”
I don’t even blink.
“Don’t you have something to do, Maddox?”
He glances at me, eyebrows raised. “What? I’m just—”
“She’s Byron’s little sister,” I cut in, my voice low and sharp, laced with a threat I don’t bother hiding. “She’s off-limits. To everyone. Got it?”
He straightens like I just barked a command at a fire scene. “Yes, Chief.”
Good. Because the next guy who so much asthinksabout her the way I just did is getting laid out flat.
I turn back toward the lot, keeping my stance calm, my jaw tight. But inside? I’m burning. I’m hard. And I’m one second away from dragging Serena into the engine bay and tasting every inch of that perfect, curvy body until she forgets what it felt like to ever be touched by someone who didn’t worship her.
I need to stop.
This is getting out of hand, and if I don’t cool off soon, I’m going to do something stupid.
So I head for the cooler, pop the lid, and grab an ice-cold beer like it might save me. The condensation beads across my knuckles as I crack it open and take a long pull, hoping the bitterness will drown out the heat in my blood. It doesn’t. Not even close.
I’m this close to dumping the entire goddamn cooler over my head just to shock some sense into myself.
Instead, I turn toward a few of the guys tossing a frisbee by the far edge of the field at the back of the firehouse and jog over, nodding like I’m here to unwind. Maddox fires it across the grass, and I catch it one-handed, trying to force my brain to focus on something other than the curve of Serena’s ass in that dress.
But it’s no use.
I toss the frisbee once, twice. Smile when Zeke jokes about my weak throw. But it’s not long before my gaze shifts—searching, scanning, traitorous.
And there she is.
Standing by the picnic tables, sipping from a Solo cup, her shoulders still drawn tight like she’s trying to fold herself smaller. I try to look away, but I can’t.
Because who the hell am I kidding?
I take another sip of beer and try to act like I’m still in this game, but my eyes are already back on her.
It hits me then she hasn’t changed, not really. Still quiet. Still beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you and knocks the wind out of your lungs.
She shifts her weight to one foot, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she talks to Samira.
But it’s not just the way she looks. It’s the way she’s holding herself. That guarded expression. That slight distance she keeps from everyone around her. She’s here, but not entirely. Like she’s not sure if she belongs yet. It must’ve been hard to come back after everything. I know she wouldn’t have come back if that old bastard hadn’t died. And I don’t blame her.
And that’s what gets me.
Not the dress. Not the curves. Not even the flash of smooth skin when the wind picks up and lifts the hem just enough to tease me.
It’s the way she looks like she still can’t breathe in a place that used to suffocate her.
