Page 30 of The Live-In Temptation (Steele Brothers of Starlight Cove #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHLOE

I’d repeated it to myself this morning as I made Emma’s breakfast.

I’d recited it on the way to the school and the bus ride over here.

I’d said it multiple times on the walk up to the fire station. Because I knew the second I locked eyes with Xander, everything about the other night in One Night Stan’s would come rushing back.

Be my dirty girl, and come on my cock in the bathroom while you’re on a date with another man.

Show me exactly how much you love it when I fuck you.

Well. Obviously, I’d been right, because now I was standing in a sea of four-year-olds, remembering what it felt like when Xander pinned me to the wall, shoved my panties to the side, and fucked me while I was still wearing my fishnets and my boots.

To say nothing of the fact that I was on a date with another man .

And the worst part? I liked it.

I didn’t just like it. I fucking loved it.

I thought he’d made me come hard when he’d told me exactly how to touch myself. But that had nothing on how hard I’d come while he’d been inside me. While he’d whispered every filthy thought he had, like he couldn’t help himself. Like the dam had finally broken.

And it had, considering he and I’d had to have a conversation about birth control—IUD for the win—and test records—all clear on both sides—since we hadn’t used a condom. Since I’d been able to feel his come spilling out of me while I’d ended the date with Eli.

That was why I wasn’t supposed to make eye contact. And why I was currently fucked.

Because now, I was feeling all…all… this …while Xander stared at me from across the fire station like there weren’t a bunch of munchkins surrounding us, having the time of their lives. And it wasn’t just any Xander giving me his full attention…

It was Xander. In. Uniform.

Why the hell had I thought it would be a good idea to volunteer for this field trip in the first place?

I should’ve remembered that the Starlight Cove Fire Department wasn’t just a quaint little building at the edge of downtown—it was his domain.

And I sure as hell should’ve remembered what he looked like in turnout gear.

Spoiler alert: like sin and safety had a very hot, very off-limits baby.

He hadn’t looked at me at first. Not really.

He’d been busy wrangling fifteen tiny humans, explaining how the hoses worked and why they couldn’t stick crayons in the emergency radio.

But then he’d glanced up—just once—and our gazes locked.

Immediately. My stomach did a traitorous little somersault, and I pretended not to notice the way his eyes heated as soon as they landed on me.

He had no right looking at me like that.

Like he knew exactly what was going through my mind.

Like he was remembering it too.

Remembering everything .

The way I’d moaned against his mouth, clung to his shoulders, locked my legs tight around him, and pulled him deeper. Begged him not to stop.

But this was fine. Totally, completely, absolutely, one hundred percent fine .

“Miss Chloe! Miss Chloe! When do we get to go on the truck?” one of the kids shrieked, tugging at my sleeve with the patience of a…well, of a four-year-old at a fire station.

I blinked down at her, plastering on a smile. “Soon, kiddo. Listen for the instruction from Chief Steele, okay?”

And while she did that, I was going to be trying to forget all that glorious instruction from Chief Steele.

She nodded rapid-fire before scampering off toward a group of kids currently trying on the way-oversized firefighter gear.

I blew out an unsteady breath and grounded myself in the pandemonium. I just needed to focus on the kids. That was safe. That was manageable. That didn’t involve thinking about how Xander had fucked me like he couldn’t get enough and looked at me like I was already his.

The trouble was, he was positively magnetic, standing over there looking all capable and in charge.

He always held himself with a confidence that was unmatched.

But here? He moved through the station like he owned it.

Not in an arrogant way. This was competence, pure and simple.

The way he hoisted a hose with casual ease, knelt to tie a kid’s shoelace without missing a beat in his safety spiel, and answered a question about fire poles without even looking winded.

But I was winded. I was over here losing my damn mind, and I hated it.

Hated how every cell in my body was still humming from the memory of him inside me. Hated that I wanted more when I’d never, ever been interested in that.

“Okay, everybody, line up,” Xander called, clapping his hands once. “Who’s ready to climb into the big rig?”

The chorus of squeals and cheers was deafening. It was complete mayhem as kids surged toward the engine, their excitement palpable. But it only took one look from Xander and a firm reminder about safety for everyone to line up like little soldiers and wait their turn.

He stood at the open door of the cab, offering a steadying hand to each child as they climbed up.

He calmly explained what every button did and how the truck worked—not a watered-down version for them because they were kids.

Instead, he explained it just as he would to any adult, assuming their capability and gently correcting any misunderstandings.

And why the hell did I find that so fucking hot?

When it was Emma’s turn, she climbed up, but Xander didn’t just steady her—he lifted her effortlessly, setting her in the seat with a gentleness and familiarity that made something twist behind my ribs.

She immediately took hold of the steering wheel, face lit with awe. “Is this where you sit, Daddy?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes other firefighters drive.”

“Do you get to turn on the sirens?”

“Sometimes.”

“Can I turn on the sirens?” she whispered, a soft, pleading note to her voice.

“You have to be officially certified to do that.”

Emma sat up a bit straighter. “I am certified.”

Xander arched a brow at her. “Oh really?”

She nodded fiercely. “I passed LoLee’s bravery test this morning. So that means I’m certified, right?”

His mouth twitched the tiniest bit as he looked at me over his shoulder. “Is that true?”

I gave a casual shrug, like having his attention on me wasn’t undoing me. “It was pretty rigorous. Required bravery, kindness, and finishing her pancakes so she had fuel for the day.”

He turned back to Emma. “And did you do that?”

“I did, Daddy!” She glanced at me, eyes wide. “Tell him, LoLee! Tell him I did it.”

“She did. Finished all three.”

The same girl who’d eaten half the top on a muffin when I’d first arrived had slammed down three blueberry pancakes like it was no big deal. And yeah. I was feeling pretty great about that.

Xander locked his gaze on mine, and it was clear he was thinking the same thing. While the heat that’d been in his stare earlier had had me nearly combusting on the spot, it was the gratitude shining there now that had me almost melting into a puddle at his feet.

He dropped his voice as if he were sharing a secret with Emma. “Then I guess that makes you qualified.”

She squealed, then settled immediately when he began instructing her on what to do, his voice patient and sure.

I should’ve been focused on the kids. Should’ve been making sure everyone had what they needed and no one was causing a catastrophe.

Instead, I watched him.

Watched the way he didn’t just handle this, he owned it. Watched how steady he was, how natural. Like being a hero to this group of preschoolers didn’t require anything more than showing up, knowing what to do, and being exactly the man he already was.

God help me, I wanted to climb him like a fire ladder, but I was pretty sure the preschool teacher and other chaperones would look down on that.

So instead, I took a breath and kept my distance. All while watching the man I wasn’t supposed to want act like the father he never thought he could be.

“Are you guys married?” The question came out of nowhere. Innocent, unapologetic, and far too loud in the way all questions from four-year-olds tended to be.

Xander froze mid-sentence, his hand braced casually on the side of the truck. Meanwhile, my heart plummeted somewhere south of my stomach for absolutely no reason.

“Um…what?” I asked, trying to laugh, like the idea was so ridiculous my heart hadn’t just flung itself into a wall.

The little boy shrugged. “You live with them. Are you married?”

“We’re a fire family!” Emma said, loud and proud and beaming.

Xander glanced over at me, a million unspoken things in that look. But before I could dissect what exactly that meant, another boy chimed in.

“But she’s not your real mom.”

My heart that had been thundering wildly in my chest halted. Just stopped completely as I watched Emma’s smile falter. Watched her brow crease. Watched her shoulders slump. She glanced up at me with something new in her eyes. Something fragile and questioning, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

And if I couldn’t breathe, I knew she wasn’t going to be faring much better.

So I pushed aside the urge to tell that little shit that Santa didn’t visit assholes, and I crouched beside her, brushing a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“I think our fire family is the coolest family around,” I whispered, instilling as much confidence in my voice as possible. “Maybe you can draw a picture of us at the take-home station?”

“Okay,” she said, but her voice was small. Those cracks that had seemed to be healing busted wide open again, all because of one little jerk.

If I thought capable Xander was hot, it had nothing on protective Xander.

After checking in with Emma, he turned his attention to the kid, his eyes locked on the boy for a second too long.

Not glaring. Not speaking. Just enough to remind everyone in a ten-foot radius that he was not one to mess with.

And, by extension, neither was his daughter.

And I was over here being the victim of emotional whiplash. Honestly, a girl could only take so much in one day.

By the end of the tour, I was fraying at the edges. Xander had hung close to Emma’s side since that comment, his unrelenting gaze focused on the instigator as if daring the boy to say something again.

When Emma was engrossed in the art station and creating her take-home trophy for the day, Xander headed in my direction. He allowed his gaze to rake over me—just a quick glance, but one I felt deep in my bones.

Arms crossed, he stood next to me and stared out at the kids scattered around the station. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I said too quickly. Too brightly.

Something he noticed immediately.

He turned his head, giving me his full attention, and I was absolutely not ready for that .

“I’m fine,” I repeated, then swallowed, glancing once over at Emma. “But I think you might want to bring this up with Emma’s therapist next week.”

He dipped his chin. “Already on the list.”

Of course it was. Because while macaroni crafts were out of his wheelhouse, he was a pro at protecting Emma.

“Daddy! LoLee! Look !” Emma called, skipping over to us, a piece of construction paper flying along beside her.

She held up the paper between us. She’d colored three stick figures, all holding hands. One was huge with brown hair and a beard, one was smaller with wild yellow hair clear down to her waist, and the smallest one held what looked like a stuffed unicorn.

“It’s our fire family!”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Because what the hell was I supposed to say to that? I’d chosen to insert myself into this little family knowing damn well I wasn’t going to stay.

Knowing damn well I never, ever stayed.

And now I was supposed to tell her that? This little girl who’d already lost so much? Absolutely not.

So instead, I just smiled and pretended like I wasn’t slowly falling apart on the inside. Because if the thought of leaving was this hard now, what was it going to be like in a few weeks when it was really time for me to go?