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My chest tightens, like a foot squeezed into a shoe with laces pulled too tight. I lift his hands, tracing my fingers down his palms.
“I’m fine.” He pulls his hands back.
Fury fuels me. Standing, I go to the fire pit and shove my hands near the flames.
He moves instantly, grabbing me, picking me up, and sealing me into his chest. “What are you doing?” he grits out in a snarl that feels like lightning, fueling the chaos storming inside of us.
Mirroring my actions, he grabs my hands and looks at my palms for any sign of injury.
“Now you know what I felt when I watched you thrust your hands into the fire. It hurts. Worry is a twisting knife lodged deep.”
“It hurts because we love each other,” he says, his eyes locking with mine.
The air grows heavy. His gaze jolts through me like electric paddles to my heart. I’m alive, teetering on a cliff’s edge, adrenaline begging me to leap. There’s no fear—Steffen is my parachute.
His calloused hands cage my wrists. Every nerve is on fire—the heat of his skin, the wetness between my thighs, sweat trickling down my spine as I stand, my toes straining as I lean closer to his lips.
“Does that mean you care for me, Little Thief?” He leans toward me, making sure I feel the outline of his hardness digging into my stomach.
My lips part as I moan; I even close my eyes, just focusing on the feeling of him pushing into my core.
“Shut up and kiss me,” I demand. I want my escape. I played a dangerous game of unearthing his past, and I’m not sure I can handle any more.
His lips slam down, covering mine as his tongue sweeps inside my mouth, and when I brush mine over his, he moans my name like a prayer. He scoops me up and walks us back inside the house, never breaking his kiss. The cool air of the house sends tingles over my body. The sound of his rushing feet on the glass staircase makes my lips smirk into the kiss.
I squirm in his arms, half-expecting him to tire and set me down, but he never falters.
My hands clutch his shirt. “I want this off you,” I insist, as he carries me past my bedroom, eyes blazing with hunger, and heads straight for his.
“I want you in my bed.”
I tease him, kissing his neck. “You want to fulfill your fantasy.”
“You mean more to me than just a fantasy, Rylan.”
With his bedroom door kicked shut, he places me on his bed and steps back. The predatory gaze in his eyes has my heels dragging up, wrinkling the sheets. “You gonna try to run for me, Rylan? Your ankle is almost healed.”
“Not tonight,” I reply, my body humming with anticipation. Something sparks the moment our eyes meet; a jolt of energy races through me, tingling all the way to my toes. “Tonight, you have free rein—do whatever you want,” I offer, my fingers tracing the sheets.
His gaze becomes wild. “Dangerous words you won’t regret.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Are you doubting me?”
My gaze travels up and down his body as I bite my lip. “Let’s see if you’re worth the escape.”
His chest heaves; the erection in his pants looks painful. With a practiced move, he reaches back and pulls off his shirt. When I catch a glimpse of him, my core clenches.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Rylan.”
“You don’t have to say things like that.” I edge back on his bed.
“I thought you wanted me to tell you the truth.” He kicks off his shoes and grabs his belt; the sound of the buckle makes my abs tighten. His eyes move from my wrists to my ankles as he quietly slides his belt out.
Does he have a kink for bondage?
“You look like you want to tie me up.”
