Page 125 of For the Plot

“What? You?”

“Mm-hmm.” He leans in and presses the softest kiss to my lips. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?”

“I saw you that night, noticed you long before you walked across this bar and said hi to me.” I gasp, eyes wide. “You caught my attention. I noticed the curve of your ass”—he reaches down and grabs a handful—“the way your neck was begging to be kissed.” My eyes flutter as he drags his lips over my neck. “And then I realized who you were.”

I pull back in surprise. “You knew it was me before I even walked over.”

He nods. “I did and I felt guilty as hell because the thoughts I was having… I shouldn’t have been having them about my son’s ex. I wanted you the second I saw you walk into my office too. I wanted to bend you over the conference table and fuck the attitude out of you. But then you smiled,” he says. “And I realized I wanted so much more than that. I wanted to know what made you laugh. What made you cry. What made you tick.”

“You’re making me cry right now,” I whisper.

He touches my cheek. “Good. That means I’m saying it right.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“I rented out a bar and played Frank Sinatra so I could hold you and kiss you in peace,” he says. “I’m the fucking president of the Saps.”

I laugh against his mouth. Then I grow quiet. “Is this it, Reece?”

His eyes study mine. He doesn’t need me to spell it out. He knows what I’m asking. He leans in, kissing me again, slow, deep, and possessive.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my mouth. “So fucking much.” I press my forehead to his. “But no, baby, this isn’t it.” He leans back and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “This is just the beginning, Skye.”

“Yeah?” I smile, my lips stretched to their capacity. “Forever?”

“Forever, baby.”

“But you didn’t even ask me.”

He chuckles low and warm and it reverberates through me.

“I will, don’t worry, but for the record, I already know.”

“Still so cocky.” I giggle, leaning forward to capture his lips. He kisses me back, deeper, his tongue dancing with mine for a brief moment. I slide my hands around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He kisses me like I’m oxygen. Like I’m already his wife and his religion and his next sin all rolled into one. I tighten my thighs around his hips, tug his hair, bite his lip.

“You’re hard again,” I whisper, smiling against his mouth.

“You’re straddling me in an empty bar, grinding your wet panties against my cock, baby.” His hands grip my ass, dragging me closer. “You expect me to behave?”

I rock against him, slow and unhurried. “You said this was the beginning.”

“It is.”

“Then fuck me. Make it count.”

He growls low in his throat. “Not here.”

I grin. “You’re such a gentleman now.”

“You make me want to be better,” he confesses, brushing his thumb over my cheekbone. “But don’t mistake that for restraint, sweetheart. The second I get you home, I’m bending you over the first surface I find and making you scream my name.”

“Promise?”

His eyes go molten. “That’s not a promise. It’s a guarantee.”