Page 66 of Reckless Devotion

His muscles stiffen under my palm, and for one belly-twisting second, I think he’s going to flinch away. A warm, brawny arm snakes around my waist, pulling me in tight. With his arm now around me, my cheek presses into the side of his warm chest, and I take a whiff of that intoxicating musky scent of his right from the source. A tiny slither of awareness seeps into my lower belly, his large hand burning a hole through my dress.

“What is this place, anyway?” I take in the rows of shelves with boxes upon boxes of metal junk parts and tools.

“My high school hideout—come on, I’ll show you.” He nudges me softly in the direction of worn wooden stairs that lead to the upper level, somehow managing to keep a casual hand on me the whole time as we ascend to the second floor.

It too looks run-down up here, but there is more order to the chaos. A scratched steel desk in one corner with a bulky computer monitor on it that looks like it hasn’t been updated in twenty years. A wall of assorted tools hanging on pins. A double-wide bed low to the ground in one corner with plain pale blue bedding. It looks…familiar in some ways.

“It’s your first workshop.” I trail my fingers over a bench that carries many divots and gouges, betraying years of labor.

“It’s junk now, but I spent a lot of time here as a kid. Hence the bed.” He adds that last part as an afterthought.

I turn, eyeing him speculatively as the scent of old wood and stale, salty air wraps around us. Every family has secrets, but this one seems to be an endless magician’s hat. The mysterious father figure, the fragile mother, the gruff brother, and the little boy who hid himself away to escape his family.

“What were you running from?” Like recognizes like. I’ve spent years running from the ghosts of my past, and here in this mirror I see that tireless drive reflected in Chase.

The corner of that sensuous mouth quirks up, and he closes the last step between us, lifting a hand to slide along my jaw and into my hair. “I think I’m done talking now, Pepper.”

A fizz of tension shoots right to my toes, my breath quickening as anticipation crackles between us. We’ve been building to this moment for so long, even if neither of us have wanted to admit it, and suddenly I find myself nervous as all get out.

He leans down and places a tender kiss on my cheek, his curated stubble sending delicious tingles feathering out inall directions. “I’m done pretending that being near you isn’t my own personal brand of torture.”

His breath whips against my skin, sending a shiver through me, and I lift one hand and place it on his ribs to steady myself.

He trails his mouth across my skin to kiss my other cheek, purposefully avoiding my mouth where air saws in and out at an embarrassing rate. “And I’m definitely done convincing myself that you don’t belong in my bed.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.The drumbeat vibrates my chest, echoed in the rhythmic whooshing in my ears. “Okay,” I manage to croak out.

“I want to take you right here, Pepper.” Another kiss, this time a hair’s breadth away from the corner of my mouth. His strong arm snakes around my waist and draws me flush against his powerful body—a wall of smooth, tanned skin and tightly coiled muscles. “But I’m going to need you to tell me that is what you want, too.”

This time, when his lips make contact, they’re exactly where I want them. I melt into his kiss, my hands sliding up to tangle in his silky curls. His tongue slips in and teases mine playfully, just the right amount, but before I can get my fill, he’s gone, pulling away to look at me.

“I need to hear it, Peppercorn.”

I nod jerkily, trying not to let on just how close I am to panting. “I want that too.”

Victory sparks in his chocolate eyes, the strong muscle in his jaw flexing. Something huge and hard presses into my lower stomach, making it flip and squirm.

“Is there anything you’re not comfortable with?”

The question stuns me, and it says a lot about the male species that I’ve never once been asked this before. I drop my gaze to the dark smattering of hair that sprinkles across hisbroad chest, not knowing how to voice it, and a deep noise emits from his throat.

He uses the hand still wrapped around my hair to angle me back up to face him. “You don’t do that with me. There is nothing you can’t say to me, and you don’t need to hide yourself. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer, feeling wildly vulnerable as I find myself with nowhere to go but into those dark whiskey pools.

I can do this, right? I can have hot, dirty, boathouse sex with the billionaire tech tycoon I’m supposed to hate.

“For once, I’m asking you to turn that magnificent brain of yours off and trust me. I’ve got you.” He leans in to slide his nose up mine, teasing me with the merest suggestion of our lips brushing. “Tell me what’s off the table.”

“I just need us to be facing each other,” I blurt out as my fingers squeeze around his curls. “I don’t like anything from behind.”

“Okay,” he says in a low voice, his own breathing kicking up a notch and his fingers digging into my back. “Anything else?”

As easy as that…no prying questions, no attempts to change my mind.

I feel the restraint shaking his muscles, like he’s a tightly coiled spring just waiting for permission to unload. “That’s it.”

I’m pretty sure I would do anything this man asked of me, especially given the low throbbing ache that emerges in my belly as he lets out a low, guttural growl and crashes his lips back to mine with pent-up fervor.