Just Kidding (SWAT Generation 2.0 1)

I made a disgusted face with my tongue hanging out.

“That’s a big fat no,” I said as I brought my queso toward me. “I like queso, though. Guac and avocados make me think of green snot.”

I got another whiff of Dax straight to my nose when I moved, and I shivered.

“You’re still cold?” he asked, eyeing me worriedly.

I shrugged.

“I keep my house warm,” I told him. “But it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He didn’t like that I was cold.

I could see that on his face clear as day.

“What brings you over here?” he asked.

I wouldn’t tell him that I’d heard about his shitty day.

Instead, I made up a small lie.

“I bought these tacos with every intention of asking you and Derek if you wanted some,” I said. “But he wasn’t home. So you get all of them.”

Derek had never even gotten a knock on the door from me.

Not because I wouldn’t have shared, but because I knew that he was out drinking his troubles away.

“Nice,” he said. “More for me.”

I smiled, then dug another chip into the queso.

It was as we were finishing up that I said, “Do you want to watch a movie with me?”

He looked at his living room.

I did, too, seeing that he didn’t have a television almost immediately.

I would’ve groaned, but that might have given me away.

“I would but I usually just watch shit on my laptop.” He paused. “Or my iPad.”

I shrugged. “I have my brother’s Netflix password.”

He grinned then.

“I have Amazon, but Netflix isn’t something I usually go to,” he admitted. “I know, that’s sacrilegious of me.”

“What do you have against Netflix?” I asked as I pushed away from the counter, now thoroughly stuffed.

He gestured to the queso that I hadn’t finished, then finished it up in five bites before answering.

“Nothing really,” he admitted. “Just not really willing to waste money on it. I’m saving for a house, and it seemed like a frivolous item that I didn’t need to be spending it on.”

I could understand that.

“That’s why I’m stealing my brother’s account,” I admitted. “Though sometimes I do give him money or tacos or something in exchange.”

He grinned at that, then started gathering our trash.

“My computer’s right there on the coffee table.” He gestured in the direction of the couch with his head. “I’ll get this cleaned up and go grab the blanket off my bed for you. What are you wanting to watch?”

I made my way over to the couch, bringing the sweatshirt up to my nose and surreptitiously smelling it before falling into the sofa.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Dax bent over picking something up off the ground, his sweatpants cupping his tight ass like a glove.

I groaned as I leaned over and grabbed his laptop.

“What’s the passcode?” I asked, feeling my stomach tighten.

“0004,” he answered.

I typed that in and was immediately signed into his laptop.

I blinked at the show that was pulled up.

“What is this?” I asked him, holding the laptop up for him to see.

I heard a drawer slammed closed, and then him throwing stuff into the trash.

Moments later he was leaning over the back of the couch, both of his large hands on either side of my head.

“Umm,” he said. “I think that I started watching a scary movie the other day. But I never really got started on it before I got too tired to finish it.”

I clicked on it, then read the synopsis for it.

“The Conjuring?” I asked him.

He shrugged then disappeared from behind me.

Moments later he was back with a white duvet cover.

He tossed it at me, and I was immediately enveloped into a cocoon of Dax.

This time, I did moan.

Not only was it warm, but it blissfully smelled of him.

He laughed and rearranged the covers so that it was around me, but not covering my head.

Then he disappeared again.

I started the scary movie back from the beginning, then became entranced.

“We’re watching this?”

He came back into the room shaking his hands free of water, then started flicking out lights.

“Yes,” I said. “I can handle it.”

He shrugged and plopped down onto the couch in between the arm and the cushion that I was sitting on.

The movement caused me to lean slightly into him, and I felt my breath catch.

He moved so that his long legs were propped up on the ottoman and then took the laptop from me, placing it on his outstretched legs and then moving slightly.

“Scoot closer,” he ordered.

I did, leaving about six inches of space between us.

The movie continued playing and there was whispering, causing me to lean forward.

He caught me by the hip and tugged me closer, until I was plastered up against his body.

“Better,” he said. “This is as loud as it gets, sorry.”

I wasn’t sorry.

How the hell could I be sorry when the man’s body was like a massive heater and I was pressed up against the man that’d been the star of my dreams over the last few weeks?