Page 20 of Twin Babies for the Silver Fox (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies #3)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Josie

What the hell is happening?

This isn’t dancing. This is something else entirely.

It’s intense, and so thick with tension it feels like the air between us might snap at any given moment.

We’re not kissing.

But somehow, it’s sexier than if we were.

Knox’s hand finds the side of my neck again, his thumb grazing just beneath my jaw.

The other slides along the curve of my waist, setting me alight.

His fingertips skim beneath the hem of my sweater, finding bare skin like they belong there.

Like he’s always known where to touch me to make the world tilt.

I can’t breathe.

Not properly.

Not with him looking at me like that, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters. Like he’d set the whole place on fire just to keep me warm.

I turn, slowly, needing to meet his eyes. To see if he feels it too.

And help me, he does.

His gaze is molten. Alive. Lit from within by something that hums beneath my skin like electricity, dangerous and undeniable. The kind of want that’s not about lust or logic or timing. It’s about gravity.

I feel like I’m being pulled into orbit, and I don’t even care if I burn.

“Why are we doing this?” I whisper, my voice caught somewhere between wonder and panic.

My lips brush his as I speak, and the contact makes him inhale sharply, like he’s holding on by a thread.

His brow furrows, like I’ve asked him to solve a puzzle with no right answer.

“You tell me,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I’ll stop if you want. You just have to say it.”

My chest aches.

Because I know I should.

I know the smart move, the safe move, is to pull away. To remind him, remind myself , why I’m keeping my distance.

But all of them evaporate when he looks at me like that.

I don’t say anything.

I can’t.

Because I don’t want him to stop.

I want more .

I want everything I’ve been too afraid to ask for.

So instead, I press my forehead to his and close my eyes. I feel the tremble in his breath when it brushes against my cheek. My hand slips up to his chest, fingers resting over his heartbeat like I’m trying to remind myself that this is real. That he’s real.

He lets out the softest sound, half groan, half exhale, as his hand slides to the back of my neck, thumb stroking behind my ear like he can soothe the war waging inside me.

This is dangerous.

This is inevitable.

And I should walk away.

I should protect my heart.

I should remember every reason this could fall apart, every complication waiting right outside this moment.

But right now?

Right now, I just want him .

His warmth. His steadiness. The way he makes me feel like I could shatter and still be safe in his arms.

So I open my eyes, lift my chin, and look at him like I’ve already made the decision I can’t take back.

“Take me out of here,” I whisper.

“You sure?” he asks as his eyes flare.

I nod.

Because maybe I’m not sure of anything else in my life right now.

But him ?

This?

Tonight?

Yeah. I’m sure.

The cold outside hits my skin like a gasp, sobering and welcome. The snow’s packed under our boots, crunching as we walk to his truck.

We don’t talk. Not right away. There’s too much energy still buzzing under my skin from the way his hands were on me. From the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

He drives without asking where. I think maybe he just knows. And when I see the familiar curve of the road, the trees thinning out as we start climbing the ridge, my heart does a strange flip.

Summit Ridge.

He parks just before the overlook, where the trail opens up to the ledge. The valley stretches wide beneath us, blanketed in snow and silence, the lake a frozen mirror under the stars.

We don’t speak for a minute. We just sit there, breathing the same air, the truck engine ticking as it cools.

Then I open the door and step out, boots crunching into snow.

He follows with his slow but sure gait, giving me space, but I would be able to feel his proximity from three hundred miles away.

The wind is icy, biting my cheeks and waking up my lungs.

I wrap my arms around myself and stare out at the view, memories and emotions flooding inside of me.

“I used to come here with my dad,” I say, voice quiet. “We’d hike up on weekends, or drive up if it was late. He said the air cleared out all the noise.”

Knox is next to me now, hands in his pockets, his gaze on me instead of the valley.

“I get that,” he says softly.

I glance over, then back at the lights of Silver Peak twinkling in the distance. “When life feels too big, this is where I go. When I don’t know what I’m doing. When I feel like the world’s moving too fast and I’m still standing still.”

“Is that how you feel right now?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Like I’m trying to hold everything together, and it just keeps slipping.”

The words come out before I even think them through—raw and real and startling in their honesty. I blink, surprised at myself. At how easy it was to say it out loud. Like something in me just... let go.

Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s the cold.

Maybe it’s him.

Because somehow, with Knox, it feels safe to be this open. Like I don’t have to carry it all on my own. Like I don’t have to pretend I’m not breaking a little.

He’s quiet for a second, then steps closer. His shoulder brushes mine. “You don’t have to hold everything alone.”

I want to believe him. Man, I do.

I turn to him, and he’s watching me like I’m delicate and breakable, but not in a way that makes me feel weak. In a way that makes me feel seen. Respected. Held together, somehow, by the weight of his eyes alone.

“I didn’t come out tonight expecting this,” I say.

“Me either.”

“But I needed it.”

He nods, then gently lifts his hand to brush a piece of hair out of my face, his knuckles grazing my cheek. “You always come here when things get heavy?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, soft and crooked. “Then I’m glad I found this place right now.”

My breath catches. Not from the cold this time.

I step into him without thinking. My arms wrap around his waist, and my forehead presses to his chest. He’s warm and solid and smells like cedar and soap.

His arms come around me instantly. No hesitation. Just warmth and comfort and quiet strength.

I don’t want to move.

But I need to look at him.

So I tilt my head back, only a little, and meet his eyes.

It’s there again, that same look from the bar. Like I’m the only thing in focus. Like I’m a question he’s been trying to answer for years.

His thumb brushes against my jaw. “You’re freezing.”

“I don’t care,” I whisper.

His hand moves higher, fingers skimming behind my ear, into my hair. I lean into it, into him, every part of me strung tight with anticipation.

“I’ve been trying to stay away,” he murmurs. His breath fogs in the cold between us. “Trying to give you space. To not want more than you’re ready to give.”

I swallow, heart pounding so hard it hurts. “Maybe I don’t want space tonight.”

He exhales like I broke something loose in him.

His mouth claims mine like he’s done waiting.

There’s no hesitation now, just heat and command and a low growl in his throat that sends shivers skating down my spine. His hands slide down my sides, slow and possessive, until they’re gripping my hips with intent.

“Good, because you’ve been driving me fucking crazy all night,” Knox murmurs against my lips, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

I nod, breathless.

He pulls back enough to look at me. His eyes are wild and dark, full of hunger. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you want this. Out loud. I need to hear it.”

The edge of authority in his voice makes me clench.

“I want it,” I whisper.

He arches a brow. “No. Use your words, sunshine. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Someone help me.

“I want you,” I breathe. “Here. Now. I don’t care if someone sees. I don’t care about anything but you.”

Something in him snaps. In a flash, I’m spun around and pressed up against the side of his truck, my palms bracing against the cold metal, the sting of it anchoring me in the moment.

His body crowds mine, hot and overwhelming, his chest a wall of heat against my back.

He cages me there, utterly claimed, his hand wrapping around my throat with just enough pressure to make my pulse stutter.

“You have no idea what you just unleashed,” he growls into my ear, his breath a scorch down the side of my neck. “You think I can be gentle with you out here? You think I can hold back?”

A shiver rips through me, molten and needy.

His voice, low and rough, hits me like a strike of lightning, igniting something deep in my core.

My thighs clench instinctively. I feel dizzy with want, my skin burning beneath his touch, my body already strung so tight I could come apart from just his words.

“Don’t,” I whisper, my voice ragged and breathless. “Don’t hold back.”

He groans, deep and wrecked. “Fuck, Josie.”

One hand slides under my sweater, rough and warm against my bare stomach. His fingers splay wide, exploring me like he’s memorizing every inch, every breath I take. It’s possessive. Like he’s staking a claim and daring the world to challenge it.

My skin ignites under his touch, heat curling low in my belly, spreading through me like wildfire. I arch into him without thinking, greedy for more. More contact, more pressure, more of him .

Then he presses his hips against my ass, and I freeze, gasp, moan, all at once.

There’s no mistaking what I feel. Thick.

Hard. Ready. My knees go weak. I can feel how badly he wants me, and it’s intoxicating.

My body pulses in response, aching, already wet with the need he’s pulled from me so easily, so completely.

“You like this,” he says. “You like being out here, where anyone could see. The good girl showing her dirty little secrets.”

I whimper, and that’s all it takes.

Fuck I love this new side of him.

I want to explore it all night long.