Page 50 of The Viper
“I try.” I hesitated. “Do you like her? The famous version?”
He shook his head immediately. “No.”
That stung until he added, “I like you. The woman who gets sand in her hair and laughs like she forgot to be careful. The one who challenges me every time I think I’m in control.”
I felt my throat close with something dangerously close to emotion. “That woman doesn’t get much air time.”
“Then maybe she should.” His hand slid down to my waist, thumb tracing slow patterns. “Maybe one day she doesn’t need cameras at all.”
I raised a brow. “What does that look like?”
He smiled—a small, knowing thing that made my heart stumble. “Maybe one day, she’s Lexi Dane. The real version. The one who gets to sleep in, drink bad coffee, and never check a trending page again.”
I blinked. “Dane?” I repeated, the name tasting new. “That’s your last name?”
His mouth curved. “You didn’t know?”
I shook my head, a laugh catching somewhere between disbelief and hope. “You’ve been guarding me, kissing me, nearly driving me insane—and I didn’t even know your last name.”
“Now, you do,” he said, eyes soft but unflinching. “Can’t protect you forever if you keep yours.”
“Is that a proposal or a threat?”
“Neither.” He leaned in, kissed my forehead. “It’s a promise.”
We talked until the night wore itself out. About movies we loved and places he’d seen. About my first audition and his first deployment. About the thousand small ways life had carved us into who we were now. Somewhere between stories, I realized how easy it felt—the way his laugh filled the room, the way his silence didn’t press for anything.
When sleep finally found us, I was curled against him, his arm heavy around my waist, our legs tangled under the sheets. For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel like a woman hiding from her own story.
I just felt safe.
18
LUCAS
The morning light filtered through the curtains of the Palmetto Rose suite, casting a soft glow across the bed where Lexi lay sleeping, her blonde hair splayed like sunlight on the pillow. I watched her for a moment, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm, untouched by the chaos we'd stirred up last night. My body still hummed from the memory—the way she'd felt in the ocean, her skin slick with rain and salt, her moans lost in the waves. Heaven, she'd called it.
But as I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist, reality crept back in. This wasn't a vacation; it was a job, and jobs like this had a way of turning complicated fast.
I slipped out of bed quietly, pulling on my jeans and shirt, my mind already shifting gears. Coffee. That's what I needed—something to ground me before the day hit full speed.
I was halfway to the kitchenette when a knock echoed through the room, sharp and insistent. Lexi stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Room service?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
"Stay here," I said, low and firm, gesturing toward the bedroom. She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, grabbing a robe and retreating as I moved to the door, my pistol already in hand, tucked against my thigh.
I peered through the peephole, expecting a hotel staffer. What I saw made my gut twist: Noah, looking as composed as ever, and beside him—Ethan. My big brother, huge and grinning like he'd just won a bet.
Shit. Lexi.
But there was no hiding this now. I holstered the pistol and opened the door, stepping aside to let them in. Ethan pulled me into a bear hug before I could say a word, his arms crushing me in that familiar way that said family without needing to spell it out.
"Little brother," he rumbled, his voice deep as ever. "I’ve missed you." There was a new affection in his tone, something I didn’t remember in him. What changed?
I clapped him on the back, pulling away to meet his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Noah cleared his throat, his expression neutral but his eyes flicking toward the bedroom door. "Maybe we take this inside?"
We moved into the living room, the door clicking shut behind us. Before I could explain or stall, Lexi emerged from the bedroom, looking like she'd stepped out of a photo shoot—her hair tousled just right, dress back on, her eyes sharp despite the early hour. She didn't miss a beat, striding over with that confident grace that made rooms feel smaller. She shook Noah's hand first, her smile warm but professional. "It’s nice to see you again, Noah."
