Page 25 of All The Way Under

“Of course,” I reply, swallowing. I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll hit the showers and head her way.”

“She’s in penthouse two,” he says.

I already knew that.

“And Brody,” Roger adds, his hand on the door lever.

I cock my head. “Yes, sir?”

“Saylor hasn’t had the best luck with dating.

There’s been a lot of pressure on her from a young age, with standards she never agreed with.

I need you to know we don’t care about standards or wealth.

We care about morals and ethics. It’s hard to find real in our world.

If you can’t be real, please let her down gently. ”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He leaves, closing the door behind him.

I stand in the gym, hands on my hips, staring at the wooden door for far longer than is normal. I think about what he said and how many different meanings it could imply while I shower and change clothes.

I opt for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt because I lived in jeans for so long, my legs are chaffed and angry. I’m not sure when I’ll willingly put on jeans again.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I realize how long it is.

It’s out of Navy standard, longer than it should be.

I examine my face closely because a mirror still feels like a luxury.

I shaved when we landed, but I have a dark blonde five o’clock shadow.

I debate shaving before I see Saylor. I decide against it because it will take more time—time that I could be with her.

Sliding into flip-flops, I head up to the penthouse. A guard is standing there when the elevator doors ping open.

“Brody McCoy,” I say, hoping this isn’t going to be hard. I don’t have it in me to deal with hurdles.

Saylor wants to see me. Her dad approves of me. It’s almost like this is too good to be true.

The guard, wearing a suit, moves out of my way and nods at the door. “You’re expected,” he growls. “I’ll shut the door behind you, locking you in. The room has been secured, and there are guards on the roof of the building across the street, monitoring from all angles.”

His brows knit together. I can tell he didn’t want to give me this information. It was forced to be given.

“She’s safe here.”

Well, I’m fucking glad someone is on the job when I’m not.

I give a short nod. “Thank you. I’ll watch her six while I’m here as well.”

He closes the door behind me, and I turn to a breeze from an open balcony door. The white curtains billow. It smells like a different version of her. A mix of her real shampoo and her inherent scent. The scent that I know. It’s fresh.

A rush of adrenaline hits as my cock hardens in response. I fucking hate that it’s immediate. Hate that I feel so strongly, but it’s innate. I can’t fight my head or my heart when it comes to her.

Saylor is wearing a robe, and her hair is wrapped in a white towel. She’s leaning against a doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, watching me.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

I grin at the same time I sigh out in relief.

“You sent your dad to fetch me. Did you think I wouldn’t listen to that man? I’m an asshole, but I’m not stupid,” I say, taking a tentative step toward her, then another. “I’m glad you’re settled in and safe. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” she replies. “Missing you.”

She’s still as stone, but her grip on the doorway tightens. It’s an immeasurable gesture I only notice because I’m trained in reading body language. She means what she just said, and she didn’t want to say it.

“Slightly horrified when I remember what I went through. But I can’t regret it because of you .”

I cross to her, smiling, watching how it melts her just to be in my presence.

“What did you tell your father, Saylor? He implied you told him about us.”

I pull the plush white belt of her robe. She jerks closer to me.

“Us in this capacity, not the captivity capacity?” I say, looking into her blue eyes, letting it drop to her lips.

Saylor has on makeup. It’s the first time I’ve seen her like this—like she’d appear on the street instead of inside a cage. It’s understated and fucking beautiful. Her lashes curled up, giving an even more perfect view of her eyes.

“I told him I wanted you,” she says, swallowing hard. “If you’d have me, and if my parents thought it would be acceptable.”

That makes my stomach sink. “Acceptable?”

She looks to the side but can’t resist looking back at my face.

I pull on the belt until it falls open. I can feel the heat from her shower radiating from her smooth skin.

“The thing with my family that’s not like normal families is that my mom has opinions on who I should end up with.”

She huffs, licks her lips, and stares at my mouth.

“The good thing about being kidnapped and having you save me is that you earned a Bianca Wyndham pass. She doesn’t care who you are or what you do because you saved my life.”

Another noisy exhale exits her perfect pout.

“She saw you in the lobby yesterday and decided on the spot that you were acceptable.” She grins. “I know how vain and classless this all sounds, which is why I didn’t say anything before, but it means something to her, whether it makes sense to the rest of the world or not.”

“But I passed the test? What did she like most? My face or my muscles?” I tease, but inside, I’m allowing the shock to roll through.

It’s odd. But just because this way of dating doesn’t make sense to me, I know that others live differently. My only concern is being enough for Saylor.

“I don’t think you’re like that, just so you know. You wanted me when I was cruel and a simple mechanic, remember?”

Her eyes widen. “I’m nothing like her. My mother wanted me to get back together with the guy I dated in college, Archie.

He cheated on me with multiple people, and she didn’t care.

Archie passed the test too. Don’t flatter yourself too much.

I think I’m merely being granted a hall pass because I could have died. ”

She takes off the towel on her head and drapes it over a chair.

I inhale the sweet, familiar scent of her hair.

“Hall pass. Is that what I am to you?” I ask, reaching between her legs.

She’s soaking wet. Saylor squeezes her thighs together, trying to keep me from seeing the evidence. “You just want to fuck me?”

At the word fuck, she spreads her legs and lets my hand slide between them fully. I push the robe off her shoulders and back her into the room behind her.

It’s a living room, with several chairs, a sofa, and a small chaise. The bedroom is too far. There is another set of French doors in here that are open, and I notice the building across the street. They’re about to get a show if they’re watching this room.

A flush creeps up Saylor’s neck. She grabs the hem of my shirt and lifts it over my head. I take off my shorts. I hiss a sigh of pleasure when she wraps her hand around my shaft.

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “I want you to make love to me.”

Leaning down, I press my lips against hers. “I love the taste of you. I want to taste you everywhere,” I breathe against her lips.

I slide a finger inside her and crook it toward me, rubbing her G-spot.

It’s odd having her like this—in the comforts of civilization instead of a waterfall. It feels brand new.

Saylor lies down on the chaise and teases her legs open.

“Taste me everywhere,” she says, eyes on mine, smile deepening, slow and knowing.

Fuck. She’s perfect. Don’t fuck this up, I tell myself. You can’t. You won’t recover this time. You won’t.

The negative self-talk only lasts a couple of seconds until I settle my face between her legs and lick her wet slit up and down. I savor the tang on my tongue and growl in delight.

Saylor makes little mewling noises, her knees wide, giving me full access. She’s smooth from a fresh shave, and I try my best not to rub my scruffy face against her, but she’s pulling my head to her, holding me.

I let my tongue fuck her clit, up and down while sliding one thick finger inside her tight slit to continue rubbing her G-spot.

Saylor arches her back off the cream-colored chaise, and I follow her pussy up to keep my pace steady.

She cries out, cradling my face, and her pussy grips my finger in waves.

“Come for me,” I say, pressing my finger against her warm core harder.

She comes, screaming, gripping the sides of the chair with freshly painted nails that look like claws, fighting to hold the pleasure longer.

A sheen of sweat on her body creates more images of perfection. Like a painting in a museum, painted only for me. She’s breathless from her orgasm, looking at me like I’m the only person on earth. The love is visceral and breathtaking.

“You going to come for me now?” she asks, licking her lips, gaze searing into my fucking soul.

She reaches between her legs and slides her fingers into the slippery wake I created.

“I’m wet for you. I’m only wet for you.”

I shake my head as I watch. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but there’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more.”

“I don’t think we did anything to deserve this. I think we were always meant to find each other. This was always going to happen between us, one way or another.” She slides one finger inside herself and moans. “How do you want me? Tell me what you’ve dreamed about.”

My dick jerks at mere words. It might explode if I don’t claim her soon.

“I’ve dreamed about being inside you in every which way you can think up, and even a few that are physically impossible while we’re affected by gravity.”

She pulls her pussy open with two fingers on each hand to give me a perfect view.

“Sounds like we need to find a way to get into space, then.”

My hands find her hips before I realize I’ve moved. I pull her onto my dick slowly, kneeling on the chaise while her shoulder blades stay down on the cushion.

“Yes, Brody. Yes,” she says, as I pull her tight pussy onto my dick.