Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
But I react when one woman walks in.
Briar Tate.
I feel her before I see her. Light steps, soft breath, the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla drifting through the bay like someone cracked open a warm kitchen.
“She’s here,” Rowan whispers from across the engine. “Your fiancée.”
“Shut up,” I bark.
He snickers. “Fake fiancée.”
“Still shut up.”
Boone calls out from the hose rack, “Captain, you want us to clear the area? Give you two some privacy?”
I glare at all of them. “No.”
They grin like wolves because everyone knows exactly what’s happening inside me and exactly what’s happening inside her, and the worst part? I’ve given them plenty of reasons to notice.
Then she appears at the entrance of the bay, holding a Tupperware full of cookies with both hands like it’s a peace treaty. She smiles. Soft. Shy. Like she doesn’t know she’s been wrecking me for weeks.
“Hi,” she says, breathless.
I don’t say hi back.
I can’t. I’m too busy fighting the urge to drag her into the nearest room that has a door.
The guys gather like idiots. Ash leans on the engine. “Miss Tate. What a surprise.”
Briar smiles politely. “Just bringing a little thank-you for, you know…” She glances at me. “Everything.”
Axel elbows Ash. “Our captain loves thank-yous.”
I snap, “Enough. All of you—gear checks. Now.”
They scatter like children caught stealing. Briar approaches slowly, like she’s not sure I want her here. But I do. I want her everywhere.
“What are these?” I ask, even though I can smell the chocolate.
“Cookies,” she mutters. “For your crew. And you. Mostly for you.”
I clench my jaw. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“I know,” she says softly. “But I wanted to.”
Her cheeks are flushed. She’s nervous. And when Briar Tate gets nervous, she fidgets with her hands and rambles and stumbles over her words like she’s trying to outrun her heart.
I love it. I fucking love it.
“Here,” I say, grabbing the cookies before she drops them. “Follow me.”
She blinks. “Where—?”
“Locker room.”
Her breath stutters. Her pulse jumps. She knows exactly what she’s walking into, and she still follows.
Good.
The second the door swings shut behind us, she turns. “Why are we in here?”
I back her up until her spine hits a row of lockers. She gasps. Heat rolls off me like steam from a vent I’ve fought too long to keep sealed.
“Because I need a minute without an audience,” I grit out.
“I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—”
“You did,” I cut in. “You meant to come here and act like nothing’s going on.”
“Nothing is going on.”
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, stepping closer, “the hell it isn’t.”
Her breath hitches. Her back flattens against the metal. She can’t move. She doesn’t want to.
“You brought me cookies,” I continue. “You smiled at me. You called this a thank-you.”
“It was a thank-you.”
“Bullshit.”
Her lips part. “Why would I lie about that?”
I lean in, bracing one hand on the locker beside her head. “Because you’re terrified of admitting what’s happening between us.”
She falters. “Saxon…”
“I told you not to say my name like that.”
She swallows. “Like what?”
“Like you want something you’re too scared to ask for.”
She goes still.
Her eyes say everything she refuses to say out loud.
I close the space between us, my chest brushing her front, her breath hitting my throat. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
She shivers. “N-no.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
I slide my palm over the locker above her head, caging her in completely. “Every time you look at me, I feel it.”
“Feel what?” she whispers.
“This.”
I don’t touch her. Not one inch. But my body crowds hers, heat pouring off me in waves.
Her breath falters. “Tell me.”
Her voice is so soft, I almost miss it. But I hear everything she says.
And everything she doesn’t. I drag my gaze down her face, lingering on her mouth. Her lips tremble. She wants me to kiss her. I want it too. Too much. But instead of answering, I stay silent. My eyes answer for me.
They tell her exactly what sitting across the dinner table from her does to me.
Exactly what hearing her laugh with Junie does to me. Exactly what seeing her in my station, in my space, in my life does to me. They tell her I want her a helluva lot more than I should.
She inhales sharply. “Saxon…”
I lean in—close enough to taste the breath she pulls in—close enough her chest presses against mine with each shaky inhale.
She tilts her head slightly. An invitation. A plea. I’m a second away from losing every rule I live by. One second. Her lips part—and then the firehouse alarm explodes overhead.
Blaring. Violent. Piercing. Ruining everything.
She jumps, slapping her hands over her ears.
I curse. Loud. Harsh. Every filthy word I know.
The locker room floods with red emergency lights.
Rowan yells down the hall, “Cap! Structure fire—north ridge!”
I step back like someone yanked a chain attached to my spine.
Everything inside me snaps shut. Duty slams back into place like a metal plate. Briar’s chest rises fast. Her lashes flutter. Her entire body trembles. I want to stay. I want to grab her face and finish what I started. But the world doesn’t stop burning because I want her.