Risky Play (Red Card #1)(60)

His tugged his shirt over his head. My eyes greedily roamed his golden-tanned body and the bulging lean muscles that rippled beneath the surface of the most perfect skin I’d ever seen. He was more. More dangerous, more beautiful. I couldn’t look away.

Abs like his shouldn’t exist on real humans.

I kept thinking it was a trick of the light.

And then I touched them.

My knees knocked as I swayed and muttered, “Unbelievable.”

“You’re shaking.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip until he reached my pinkie, and then he linked it with his and tugged me toward the bedpost. “One foot on the bed, one on the floor, try to hold on tight.”

I did. Because I wasn’t thinking straight, and had he told me to lie facedown in the bathtub and oink, I probably would have done it without question.

I was facing away from him as the air crackled with electric heat between us. I could hear the faint murmur of the TV downstairs, Alfie scratching at the door. The patter of rain lightly falling on the roof. The smell of his aftershave as he moved the air behind me stirred my senses, and I waited for whatever was coming next.

And when I felt his rock-hard body behind me.

When I felt his length press against my skin, the heat burning every inch it touched, I squeezed the bedpost harder. Used it to keep me from collapsing to the floor.

He ran a hand around my ass, rubbing in circles before his brazen lips started nibbling from my shoulder to my neck. He slid his right hand from my hip to my belly button, and pressed down while his fingertips came into contact with my core. I rocked against him.

“Don’t close your legs,” he whispered, his breath hot in my ear.

“But it’s hard not to.”

“Trust me, this will feel good.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about not feeling good, you always feel good.” I closed my eyes tight as he toyed with me. I gripped the bedpost, my nails probably digging into it in an effort not to collapse against him or pull my legs together.

“Are you ready for more?” I felt myself on his fingertips as he dragged them back across my stomach and thigh, bracing my hips with both hands. And then before I could utter another word, he slid into me.

Filled me completely.

“This is . . .” I let out a moan when he started to move. He turned my chin back toward him and swallowed my next sentence as we moved in sync. I surrendered in a wave of pleasure. With the rain pounding overhead.

With the one man who’d hurt me more than anyone ever could.

I surrendered.

And I knew he could feel the minute I did.

The minute the very last piece of the puzzle righted itself.

The minute I told myself I was his and he was mine.

With our bodies joined and waves of pleasure rocking between us like a torrential storm. He urged me on with each thrust, with each wild touch, sending me into fits of arousal until it was overwhelming.

“Let go, Mack,” he said between kisses. “It’s time to jump.”

With tears in my eyes I kissed him back and surrendered my body, my heart.

Everything I had. “Yours.”

A smile graced his lips as he kissed me and then kissed me harder, and then with each punishing thrust he whispered my name like it was the only word he knew.

“Mack.” He clenched his teeth. “My Mack.”

And for the first time in my life—it felt like I wasn’t going to jump and have to catch myself.

I had someone by my side. Just as eager to take the leap.

Just as willing.

To catch me after the fall.





Chapter Forty-Three

SLADE

I was afraid to fall asleep.

It was the stupidest thought that I could have in my head. But just because something was stupid didn’t mean the thought magically went away or that you didn’t obsess over it until you’ve convinced yourself all hell is breaking loose, and suddenly that one errant thought turns into complete insanity.

That was why I slept like shit.

Why every time I closed my eyes, I’d jerk awake.

Just to make sure she wasn’t gone.

To make sure it wasn’t a joke.

A way to get back at me.

When I finally did fall asleep, it was fitful.

And when I woke up.

It was in an empty bed.

My chest tightened as I put on a pair of sweats and searched the bathroom . . . no trace of her.

Maybe she went home to change?

I checked my phone.

Nothing.

My door was open. She’d probably fed Alfie before she abandoned me. I clenched my teeth as I slowly made my way down the stairs.

To the smell of bacon.

I sprinted into the kitchen.

And came upon the most beautiful scene—one that would be seared into my brain for life.

Gorgeous woman.

Cooking bacon.

Long, golden-brown hair hung halfway down her back, kissing my black shirt from the other night; it barely covered her naked ass. Ripping that thong was one of the best choices I’d ever made.

I smiled and leaned against the wall, crossing my arms as she did a little dance in front of the stove and twirled.

Alfie stared up at her with complete adoration and obsession, then stared me down like I was actual competition.

When I took a step toward them.