Page 22

"Of course there are." I take a sip of water to wet my dry throat and set the glass down. "Let me guess. Don't leave the building. Don't use my phone. Don't contact anyone." This game is not new to me. Dad had a lot of enemies and he made sure I knew the dangers. He also made sure not many people knew about me and I never made headlines or any of the newspaper articles that were written about him.

"Smart girl."

My stomach tightens at the praise, a phantom echo of sweet girl in that same voice in a dark bedroom. And from the way his eyes darken, he knows exactly what those two words just did to me.

"I'm not the same woman you picked up in a bar. She was a version of me no one will ever see again."

"You're exactly the same woman I picked up in a bar." His voice drops low enough to graze the base of my spine. "You're just scared, and you should be. But not of me." He reaches out and moves a strand of hair from my cheek. The pad of his thumb grazes my skin, causing a flush of heat to rush into that area.

My pulse hammers and I feel the same heat all over my body. The space between us shrinks with every breath. The industrial lighting casts sharp shadows across the hard planes of his face, catching the silver threaded through his dark hair, the scar tissue mapped over his knuckles, the controlled stillness of a body built for precision.

The heavy thumping of my heart makes it hard to hear my next words. "I'm not scared of you." I set the glass down and close the distance between us. It’s only a couple of steps, but it feels like I’m saying a hundred things while closing the gap. My hand finds the front of his shirt, fists the fabric, and pulls.

His jaw flexes. His nostrils flare. But he doesn't move. Those whiskey eyes burn into mine and the restraint coiling through every muscle in his body is visible, alive, vibrating between us.

"Tell me what you want."

My heart stutters and my core clenches. The same words from the bar. The same low, devastating command that stripped my defenses to nothing the first time. "I need to hear you say it. It’s okay to want sex when you’re scared. I’ll give you whatever kind of comfort you need, sweet girl."

My heart wants to fall out of my chest. The woman in me wants to faint into those strong arms. And would it be totally out of the realm of possibilities to confess my love for this man? The way he looks at me makes me believe in instant love. And right now isn’t the first time I’ve had that thought.

"You. I want you. I haven't stopped wanting you since I walked out of your apartment and cried three blocks from your building because leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done."

I didn’t mean to blabber all that out, but now that I have it feels good to say the words. “I missed you.”

His composure cracks. I watch it happen. The mask fractures along fault lines he's been holding together for weeks and the hunger underneath blazes through.

He spins me, pins my back to the concrete wall beside the fridge, and cages me with both arms. The cool surface bites through my T-shirt. His body presses forward, hard and hot, and the thick ridge of his cock against my belly drives a whimper from my throat.

"You walked out on me." His mouth hovers above mine, breath ghosting across my lips. "I searched for you for a week. Every contact, every tool I had at my disposal, and I couldn't find a single detail on who you were."

"My father made sure I couldn't be found."

"Your father was a smart man." His thumb drags across my bottom lip, pressing the center.

He kisses me and the world goes dark and hot. His mouth is hard, demanding, tasting of the hunger that has been building since I opened that bakery door. His tongue sweeps against mine and the groan vibrating through his chest sinks into my bones. I arch into him, fingers twisting in his shirt, dragging him closer until there's nothing between us but fabric and desperation.

His hands grip the ties of my apron which I forgot I still have on. It falls to the floor. With that out of the way, he takes the hem of my T-shirt and strips it over my head. The cool air hits my bare skin and goosebumps erupt across my chest. He leans back just long enough to take in the view and the raw, starving look in his eyes makes me feel powerful, wanted, and reckless all over again.

"No bra again." His voice scrapes low and rough.

"I was closing up. I wasn't expecting company. Two p.m. rolls around and it’s only me in the bakery."

“Good to know. I would kill anyone who enjoyed the sway and bounce of these beauties.”

His mouth finds my throat and the scrape of stubble against my pulse sends electricity straight to my clit. I gasp, arching, and his hands slide down my ribs, my waist, hooking into the waistband of my jeans. I kick off my shoes as he pops the button, drags the zipper, and shoves the denim down my thighs in one controlled motion. My panties go with them.

Bare against the cold concrete, I'm fully exposed and trembling with need while he stands fully clothed, towering and consuming every inch of my vision.

"Look at you." His palm flattens against my stomach, fingers splayed wide, and the warmth of his touch against my bare skin rips a soft moan from my lips. "My sweet girl. Do you know what you've done to me?"

I raise my gaze to his. "Show me."

He drops to his knees the same way he did that first night and my fingers drive into his hair. His mouth finds the inside of my thigh, pressing hot, open kisses against sensitive skin while his hands grip my hips and hold me pinned against the wall.

"Say the word, Neve. The one that wrecked me for any other woman. I can’t even begin to think of another. It’s you. Only you, woman."

His eyes shimmer with a vivid desire to take me and I can feel the heat roll off him in waves.