Page 54 of Found Through Fire

“I think it would take more than you think for me to be able to give up control,” she almost whispers, and I notice that her ice-blue eyes move from my eyes down to my lips. I take that as an invitation and start to slowly move in closer.

“I know it will, but I think I can show you a few ways to let your guard down and relax,” I say. My lips inch closer, lightly touching hers as I speak.

“Flame, man! You ready?” She quickly pulls away as we hear Smoke’s voice from the other room. He’s probably looking around to see where we went.

I let out a groan and close my eyes. “I know you just met him, but I am going to fuckin’ murder him.”

She lets out a small chuckle. “Nah, I have a rule about my brothers, and I am sorry to inform you that I’m the only one allowed to kill them.” That brings a small smile to my face and calms my pissed-off thoughts about Smoke being a cockblock.

“Fine, I won’t take that joy away from you, but I should still get your number. I think I need to start texting you to make sure you don’t forget me,” I reply, using the same rasp in my voice to see if I can get her to squirm in her seat again. When she does, I tuck that information away for next time we are alone.

“If it takes me a few days to forget about you, then maybe you should up your game,” she says in a breathless voice. It’s cute how she is still trying to be a smartass when we both know she is going to agree.

“Give me your phone,” I say, not trying to make the demand, but I only have so much control, and it’s slipping. If my little Fox didn’t want to give me her number, I wouldn’t be getting it, no matter how hard I tried. It surprises me when she takes her phone out of the pocket of those shorts that I hope she wears again when I come back, unlocks it, and hands it to me. It looks like she is okay with me making moves for her.

I’m putting my number in her phone when Smoke finds us. He opens the French doors as I am handing her back her phone after I sent myself a message so I have her number, too. If she thinks I’m going to wait for her to text me first, she has another thing coming.

“You ready?” Smoke asks in an irritated tone.

“Yeah, we should head back in. I want to say goodbye to everyone before they go,” Willow says as she takes the blanket off of her lap and stands up from the couch. I could feel all the tension that was building in the room disappear when Smoke came in, and I want to punch the stupid fucker. I think that would upset Willow now that she has claimed him as her official brother.

“John and the dickhead left already. John said he will call you tomorrow about all the updates for the shop. I guess he called your contractor while you were gone to ‘move things along.’ He sounded like he threatened to sit at the job site every day to help them, since it seemed like they needed it. But he didn’t elaborate,” Smoke says when Willow reaches the now-open French doors and stands in front of him.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. That’s why I made the bored geezer the manager. He needs something to do,” she says andstarts to walk back to the kitchen where her family is drinking beer.

“We are going to head out, Will. Let me know if you need anything. I leave on Wednesday, but maybe we can get coffee or something before,” Smoke says as he gives her a hug. It’s still weird to see him be affectionate with his “family.” I know he would rather be set on fire than give Maggie a hug.

“We can do a dinner here if you want before you leave. I was thinking something easy, like homemade pizza,” she says as she pulls out of the hug and smiles up at him.

“Sounds good to me. Text me and let me know,” Smoke replies. He walks over to Michael and the other brothers to shake their hands, telling them goodbye.

I walk up to Willow, and she gives me a questioning look. She shoots a glance at her brothers and dad, who are now looking at us. I already told her dad about my intentions, and her brothers can get the fuck used to it. I’m not holding back because they can’t handle it.

Ignoring them, I grab Willow around the waist with one arm and pull her into a tight hug. I move my other hand up her back, to the base of her neck and gently pull at the hair that fell from her ponytail. She lifts her head, and I look into her eyes. “I’ll talk to you soon, Little Fox.”

I bend at the waist, give her a soft kiss on her forehead, and release her with a look of shock on her beautiful face.

I turn and walk out the front door, stop at my bike, and swing my leg over, waiting for Smoke to catch up. He stomps out the door, shooting me a death glare. He walks past my bike and just says, “We’re talking about this shit at the clubhouse,” as he swings his leg over his bike and starts it.

We ride back to the clubhouse, and I try to plan out a way to tell him that I am claiming her without him throwing any punches. It’s not looking too promising, but then again, he’sknown me longer than anyone. I’m hoping that will help him see that I’m not fuckin’ around when it comes to Willow. I have a few days before he leaves to make him understand how serious I am about my little Fox. If he doesn’t want to accept it by then, that’s on him, because when I step foot in that house again, all bets are off.

CHAPTER 22

WILLOW

It’s been a week since I found out that I had a stalker and needed a fucking babysitter. The shit that I will do to make my dad and idiots feel better blows my mind sometimes. I mean, it wouldn’t happen if I really didn’t want it to, but I’m ignoring that fact. I’m too nervous to spend that much time with Knox. He didn’t come to the dinner I had with Jackson, saying that he had to work at the shop, but I think he was just giving me some space with the brother that I’m still getting to know.

Knox has been texting me constantly since the night he almost kissed me. I thought he would wait a few days, like I have heard girls from the club complain about. I was surprised when he texted me the second that he got back to the clubhouse, just to tell me goodnight.

I feel less awkward texting him than I do talking to him when we’re in the same room, looking at me with dark eyes that make me lose my train of thought. Now that I know him a little better, I’m hoping I can keep my shit together instead of fucking blushing all the time.

So far, he has kept the conversation light, asking me about my day and businesses. He wants me to stop by the shop so I can see where he and Jackson are all day after he sent mepictures of art from bikes that he’s done. I’m trying not to get too excited about it, but with the limited experience that I have with relationships, it’s hard to do when he is being so sweet. It surprised me how gentle he was when we spoke away from everyone. He walks around with his “fuck off” face, but it softens when he looks at me.

This is completely different from my last “almost relationship.” When I met Lachlan, we were both in the cancer ward, scared out of our minds. We started out with a friendship that turned into feelings. We spoke about anything that wasn’t related to cancer and dying, since that was the main topic of discussion for everyone around us.

I remember only seeing his mom or brother every now and then at the hospital. He said that their family owned a business, and it was hard for them to get away for a visit. He had a slight Irish accent, and when I asked if he was from there, he said that he was born in Ireland, but they lived in Boston now. He was bald like I was at the time from the chemo, but he said he had dark red hair.

We were both going through our awkward pre-teen phases, so he was long and lanky, and had freckles that never disappeared after being indoors for weeks. I remember his silver eyes, crooked smile, and his laugh when I would tell him stories about how I got revenge on my brothers for being the lovable assholes that they are. He kissed me after a year of us being best friends at the hospital, and was gone the next day. I thought he died at first, until my mom found out from a nurse that she became close with that he moved to another hospital that was closer to his home.