Too Hot For Me - Chapter 2: Playing With Fire

She tells herself it’s just a kiss on a dark beach.

Just a little fun before reality kicks back in.

But when Dax Hunter touches her, everything she’s been holding back ignites.

A quiet walk turns reckless, heat meets emotion, and suddenly Sadie’s realizing the real danger isn’t the fire—it’s how much she wants to stay in it.

Chapter Two

Sadie

Playing With Fire

The beach looks different at night.

The air’s cooler but thick with smoke and salt, the sand packed down by a hundred bare feet and beer bottles. Someone’s got music playing from the bed of a pickup, something old, loud, and full of nostalgia. The kind of song everyone pretends they’re too grown-up to know the words to until they’re tipsy enough to sing along.

A bonfire crackles in the middle of it all, throwing off sparks that vanish into the dark sky. The glow hits faces in flashes, laughing, shouting, kissing. Every scent is layered: smoke, saltwater, cheap beer, and whatever cheap body spray the guys still think smells good.

I follow my friend Kelsey through the crowd, trying not to trip over a stray sandal. She’s been begging me to come out for a week. “You can’t come home and not hit a summer bonfire,” she said. “It’s tradition.”

Translation: she wants to flirt with someone who’ll probably forget her name tomorrow, and I was the only one she could convince to play wingwoman.

“I swear,” she says, glancing over her shoulder, “half this town came straight here after work.”

“Half the town and all their bad decisions,” I mutter, kicking at a patch of sand.

She laughs and presses a solo cup into my hand. “Drink. You’re wound tight.”

I take a cautious sip, already tasting regret and cheap vodka.

The fire snaps and shifts, and that’s when I see him.

Dax Hunter.

He’s standing near the trucks, a few yards from the light, the glow catching his jaw and the damp edges of his hair. His shirt’s half-unbuttoned, red trunks swapped for worn jeans and bare feet. There’s a beer dangling from his fingers, a lazy curve to his mouth like he’s watching the world without really partaking in it.

And just like that, the bonfire feels hotter.

Kelsey follows my gaze, then grins like she’s just solved a puzzle. “That’s the new guy, right? Lifeguard or something?”

“Something,” I mumble.

“Sadie Collins,” she says, dragging out my name like a warning, “you’re staring.”

“I’m not,” I lie.

“Uh-huh. And I didn’t just see him look this way, either.”

I roll my eyes and take another sip to hide my face. Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Oh God, I’m staring.

He laughs at something one of the guys says, head tipping back, firelight flickering across his throat. It shouldn’t be illegal for someone to look that good doing absolutely nothing.

Kelsey nudges me. “You gonna say hi, or just keep undressing him with your eyes?”

“I’m not—” I start, but she’s already walking away toward the fire, calling for someone I barely remember from high school.

I stay where I am, sand cool beneath my toes, cup in hand, pretending I’m not tracking every move Dax Hunter makes.

Because if I’m being honest?

Part of me came here tonight hoping I’d see him.

And now that I have, I’m not sure I remember how to breathe.

The longer I stay, the more the night blurs together. Music, laughter, firelight, and a thousand tiny reasons I should’ve gone home an hour ago.

Kelsey’s long gone, somewhere near the trucks, laughing with a group of guys she used to know from high school. I catch flashes of her hair and that loud, fearless laugh cutting through the music. When I look again ten minutes later, she’s not with the locals anymore. She’s talking to someone taller, broader, leaning against a motorcycle parked off to the side. He’s got that quiet confidence that doesn’t need an audience. She throws her head back, clearly trying to get a reaction, but he only gives her a slow smirk and says something I can’t make out from here. She swats his arm, mock offended, and he just tips his beer bottle her way like a dare.

Yeah. She’s not going home alone.

I turn back toward the fire and almost crash right into Dax.

One second, I’m steady. Next, I’m staring at a chest I definitely remember watching in the sunlight earlier.

“Sorry,” I mumble, stepping back before I make it obvious I don’t hate the view.

He grins. “Running into me seems to be a habit.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one sneaking up on people,” I shoot back, tipping my cup toward him.

“Or maybe you just keep finding me.”

That line shouldn’t sound as good as it does. The heat between us feels thicker than the air.

I start to move past him, but he shifts, blocking my path with that lazy, unbothered stance that makes it hard to think.

“So,” he says, voice low. “How’s the fan club tonight?”

I groan. “You’re not letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” He steps a little closer, enough that the firelight catches the edge of his jaw. “You still watching me, Sadie Collins?”

“I wasn’t watching.”

He tilts his head. “No?”

“Okay, maybe once,” I admit, crossing my arms. “You did save a kid. It was a decent moment.”

“Decent,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

I laugh, and it slips out too easily. I’m tipsy, a little reckless, and maybe braver than I should be. “Cocky much?”

“Just confident.”

He takes the cup from my hand, sets it on a nearby cooler, and holds my gaze. “You really think I’m too hot for you, huh?”

I blink. “What?”

“That’s what you said earlier. Too hot for me.” He smirks. “You sure about that?”

The words catch in my throat, my pulse stuttering. “You heard that?”

“Hard not to.” He leans in, voice dropping. “For the record, Sadie… I think you can handle the heat.”

He says it with that steady, unhurried confidence that gets under my skin. I should walk away, make a joke, something.

Instead, I just stare at him, the fire throwing shadows across his face and heat across my skin.

And all I can think is, he’s probably right.

He tilts his head toward the shoreline, eyes glinting in the firelight. “You want to walk?”

I shouldn’t. But I nod anyway.

The noise of the party fades as we drift down the beach, our footsteps swallowed by sand. Laughter and music trail behind us, muffled now, carried away by the salt wind. Here, it’s darker. Quieter. Just the ocean rolling in and the pull of something I’ve been trying to ignore all night.

“Didn’t think I’d get you to sneak off this easy,” he says, voice low, teasing.

“Who said I’m not easy?”

His grin is quick, dangerous, and it curls low in my stomach. We slow near the dunes, where the firelight can’t quite reach. It’s just the two of us and the hush of waves.

I brush a streak of sand off my leg, but his hand beats mine there, broad palm sliding over my thigh. He should let go but he doesn’t. His thumb lingers, tracing the inside curve, heat sparking under my skin.

My breath catches. “You missed a spot.”

His eyes flick down, then back up, darker now. Hungrier. “Pretty sure I didn’t.”

The smart thing would be to laugh it off, to walk back up the beach and drown myself in another drink. But for once, I don’t want to think. I don’t want to second-guess every reckless choice.

So I close the last inch between us and kiss him.

It’s not light, or testing—it’s deep, slow, warm enough to make my toes curl in the sand. His mouth moves over mine with steady pressure, a quiet claim that sends heat rushing through me. I fist his shirt, pulling him closer, and when his tongue slides against mine, the sound that breaks from my throat is nothing but need.

He groans low, gripping my hip, and the world tilts when he backs me against the dune wall. Sand presses cold into my shoulders, his body all heat against mine. His mouth drags lower, brushing fire across my jaw, down my neck.

“Tell me you want this,” he mutters, breath hot against my skin.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

His laugh is rough. “Good answer.”

Then his hand slips beneath the hem of my skirt. My pulse stutters, but I don’t stop him. His fingers skim higher, teasing, until he’s cupping me, until my hips jerk into his touch.

“Already so wet,” he murmurs, voice low enough to shiver through me. “You thinking about this all night, princess?”

The word should annoy me. But it doesn’t. It wrecks me in a whole different way.

“Maybe,” I whisper, breathless.

His fingers slide over me once, slow, before he presses in, two thick fingers, steady and filling me just right. My knees almost give, but his body pins me upright, solid as stone.

The first thrust of his hand makes me gasp. The second has my head falling back against the dune, my hips grinding shamelessly into his palm where it hits my clit just right. He curls his fingers, finding that spot deep inside me, and the world dissolves into waves and heat with the rhythm he builds.

“Fuck—” The word tears out of me, strangled and desperate.

“That’s it,” he mutters. His mouth finds the shell of my ear, his teeth catching soft on the lobe. “Take what you need.”

So I do. I stop thinking, stop holding back, let myself chase it. My body clenches around his hand, every thrust pulling me tighter, higher, until it breaks apart. Pleasure rips through me, hot and blinding, and I cry out into his shoulder, shuddering against him as it floods me.

He doesn’t rush me. Doesn’t pull away. Just keeps me steady while I shake, his mouth brushing my temple, his hand gentling as the aftershocks roll through.

When I finally find breath again, I realize my fists are still gripping his shirt, wrinkled and damp where I clung to him. He eases his hand free, slides it up to cup my jaw, tilting my face back toward him.

His eyes are hooded, dark with want, but there’s something else there too. Something that makes my chest tight.

The air still hums between us, heavy with heat. But underneath it, steady and undeniable, is the way he’s looking at me, like I’m not just a moment to burn through. Like maybe I’m already something more.

And for once, I don’t shove that thought away. I just let it sit there, warm and dangerous, like the flame we’ve lit between us.

We finally pull apart, still tangled in the heat and the dark. My pulse is a mess, my breathing worse. He looks down at me, mouth curved like he’s trying not to smile.

“Not exactly how I pictured a quiet walk,” he says, voice rough but amused.

That does it.

I can’t stop laughing, breathless and half-delirious, as I brush sand from my arms. It’s everywhere, sticking to my body, my clothes, probably tangled in my hair too. He looks just as riled, chest rising hard, a grin tugging at his mouth like he can’t quite believe what just happened.

“Guess that escalated,” I murmur, cheeks still hot.

“Guess it did.” His hand lingers at my waist, thumb drawing idle circles that make my pulse jump all over again.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The party noise drifts faint in the distance, like another world entirely. It feels like we built something separate here, louder, more hotter, more intense than I expected.

“So what’s your story?” I ask, brushing sand off my legs. “You don’t exactly scream small-town local.”

He doesn’t look away, though his smile fades a little.

I clear my throat. “So… why here? ”

“Needed a change. New start. Call it a transfer, call it burnout, doesn’t matter. Just… needed something different.”

It’s not a full answer, but it’s more than I expected. Enough to feel the weight under his words.

I nudge him with my shoulder, trying to soften the heaviness. “Different as in, ending up with sand in places no one should ever have sand?”

That earns a low laugh, rough and warm. But when his gaze settles back on me, it sharpens again, more warning than tease. “Careful, princess. Play with fire, you’ll get burned.”

I smirk, pulse still humming from everything we just did. “Maybe I like the burn.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged all over again. And standing there with him, I realize the fire isn’t anywhere close to dying down.

His gaze lingers a second too long before he straightens, brushing sand from his jeans.

“Come on,” he says quietly. “Before someone starts a search party.”

I laugh, following him back toward the light, every step a reminder that the night isn’t done with me yet.

To be Continued. Come back tomorrow for part three

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: September 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix