Read Online Books/Novels:
2X The Heat
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
We’ve got the stamina baby, let us feel your heat. Bree
2X The Heat is a super steamy menage firefighter romance. There are MF and MFM scenes in this book. It has a HEA and NO Cliffhanger.
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I heaved a long sigh and ran my hands through my soft hair. I’d been staring at my laptop screen for hours now, looking for jobs online, and I hadn’t found anything remotely satisfying yet. Seriously, how hard could it be to find a decent, well-paying job that wouldn’t require me to spend twelve hours at work almost seven days in a week?
I had no options. I hadn’t gone to college because I hadn’t been able to afford it, and even now, several years later, the situation hadn’t changed at all. I was still penniless and unable to pursue my dreams. I lived in a rundown building with my aging grandmother, Agnes, and we were literally stuck here. I was taking care of her, and all duties and responsibilities lay on me.
“Come on,” I muttered, punching my touchpad too harshly.
Our apartment, which we’d been renting for years now, was cruddy and pretty ancient. It was so old, actually, that I feared the ceiling would come down on us one day. There was mold everywhere, covering the cracked walls that had transformed from their original white color into yellow, and the musty smell all around was everlasting. My room was so small that I barely had place for my desk, bookshelf, and bed, and spending time in it often felt suffocating.
I didn’t like our apartment in the least, but I didn’t know where else to go. Renting any other place was out of the question, because the prices in Seattle were unreasonably high. This was the best we could find with our limited funds.
“Bree, dear? It’s so late, and you’re still awake?” My grandmother entered the living room, a deep frown twisting her face.
She was near her seventies, grays in her shoulder-length hair almost matching the grayish color of her eyes. They usually glimmered with calm, but now they reflected her concern, and something tightened in my chest. I didn’t like worrying her unnecessarily, so I never complained to her how overwhelmed I was with all the responsibility.
She wasn’t sick or anything. She just grew more tired each day, because her age was getting to her. She moved slower and couldn’t do as much around the house as she could before. She often looked pale, her fragile-looking, wrinkled hands shaking whenever she carried something, and it was difficult seeing her this way. She’d always been enthusiastic and full of energy, but she changed these last few years, and it was a bitter reminder that she wouldn’t always be next to me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to think about this. “I’m sorry. I’m just searching for a job. We need money, you and I both know it, so I wanted to stay up until I finally found something…” My voice died. I felt like a disappointment. Apparently, I wasn’t able to find even a simple job, let alone keep us afloat.
She came right behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders, massaging the spots that ached the most. She always knew what I needed. Her massage helped me get over the stress and lessened the stiffness of my muscles.
“Honey, it’s okay,” she said in a soothing way. “You don’t have to beat yourself up about it. I’m sure you’ll find a job soon. I have faith in you.”
I sighed and rolled my head in circles, popping my joints. “Yeah? Well, I’ve been looking for weeks now, and there is still nothing. Nothing good, I mean. Some of them don’t pay enough, and others have some absurd conditions. Then there is the issue with the location. I want to be near you so I could come quickly if something happens—”
“Stop worrying needlessly. I’m fine. You don’t have to be concerned about me at all. You’re already doing all you can, and I don’t want to see you so stressed. You need to relax and live your life. You’re too young to worry this much.”
It was easy for her to say that. I knew she only wanted the best for me, and she was in no condition to work, obviously, but I couldn’t relax when everything depended on me. We had no one. My parents weren’t even worth mentioning.
My mom had drug issues, and nobody knew where she was, doing whatever she could to get her next fix. I’d never gotten along with her—not that I wanted to really. She’d never been a proper mother figure to me, missing for the most part of my childhood. My grandmother had been the one who took me in and treated me like I was her own daughter, and I was eternally grateful to her for that.
My dad, on the other hand, was never in the picture. He’d left my mother and me when I was two, and he never looked back. I only knew his name. I’d never even seen his picture, and I had no clue about his whereabouts. I preferred it that way, though. I couldn’t bring myself to think about him or care.