Page 13 of Her Silver Fox Firefighters
I nearly choke on my drink. Chloe was right about the rumors. “Share…?”
He shrugs like he just said they split a Hulu account. “Not for everyone, but it works for us.”
My brain short-circuits. My cheeks are on fire. Of course my new neighbors aren’t just firefighters-slash-Marines-slash-GQ models. No. They have to be the kind of men who come with a group discount.
“You three are really close,” I say.
Dax nods slowly. “We are. When you live through what we’ve lived through, it only makes sense. It’s a strong connection built on brotherly love, honor, and honesty. It has kept a lot of people away, and I’m glad.”
“How so?”
“It left room for better people to come into our lives,” he says, his lips stretching into a lazy grin as he looks at me. “I certainly don’t regret finding you in Mrs. Jackson’s house, Olivia.”
My cheeks heat up. “You’ve been so supportive, Dax. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You’re all the thanks I need,” he says.
The conversation ebbs and flows between several rounds of Hugo cocktails for me and scotch on the rocks for Dax. He always finds a way to point the spotlight at me, asking innocuous questions that demand complex answers. It’s hard to navigate sometimes, and I do my best to keep the lies to a minimum while telling myself that it’s for my protection, but also for his.
By midnight, we’re walking down the main boulevard. Our neighborhood unravels a few blocks ahead. Above us, stars are sprinkled across the dark blue infinite while acacia blossoms burst in the trees lining the road, their scent deliciously intoxicating.
“I had expected Leo and Beck to join us tonight at some point,” I tell Dax.
He takes my hand in his, and I tremble slightly in his hold.
“We decided to take it easy,” he says.
“Easy?”
“To ease you in.”
Our neighborhood is nice and quiet. Most of the houses have manicured lawns and ancestral trees rising high above their grey or red-brick roofs. The streetlights cast an amber glow against the deepening shadows of the night.
Mrs. Jackson’s slightly neglected roses spread their fragrance far enough away to reach us as we approach.
“Ease me in?” I quietly question, my voice barely a whisper.
“There’s no denying it anymore,” Dax says.
Before I can ask what exactly it is to deny, he pulls me into his arms. It happens fast, and his lips crash into mine as the night wraps itself around us, the chirping cicadas growing louder.
I melt against his chest, his tongue slipping past my defenses and conquering everything in its path. I taste the scotch and the desire. His cologne fills my lungs, sending a flurry of heated signals into my brain.
The temperature rises between us, and I have a hard time pulling away. His hands rest on my hips, and part of me wonders what he’ll think when he sees me naked. I’m safe under the oversized dress I’m wearing.
“You should really stop hiding under these baggy clothes,” he growls, glancing down at me as if reading my mind.
“They’re comfortable,” I mumble.
“You’re hiding, why?”
It’s actually a good question. I can’t remember when it started, but I know I’ve always found safety under loose-fitting clothes.
“I’m not sure. I guess I’m used to being invisible, not standing out. It’s just what I’ve always done, what I’m comfortable with,” I say, trying to be honest without mentioning the many times Marcus made me feel miserable in my own body.
His fingers dig into my flesh, and I gasp as I feel him hard against my belly. “I’m trying to understand why a beautiful woman like you would feel safer hidden away from the world.”
“It’s a long story.” I sigh and lower my gaze.
