Page 34 of Under Locke & Key

“ Exactly !” She giggles and I’m worried that the heat is getting to her head. “We need to escape the storage room. This is too perfect. If we’d been bad I’d say it’s borderline Karmic but you’re good and I’ve been on my best behavior here in Dulaney. So that’s not it.”

It is kind of ironic. “Huh.”

Rachel waves the phone flashlight around, searching the shelves and I do the same.

“Okay. I found a hammer, a screwdriver, and a bunch of old rags.” Her haul is on the shelf at her eye level.

“I’ve got the paint stripper you were looking for.” We both chuckle, and then her list of items permeates the haze of my brain. “Wait. I have an idea. Shine your light on the actual door.”

Although it’s heavier, not a hollow door that we’d be able to brute force down, the hinges are on the inside and I give her a smacking kiss against where I know that dimple hides. “You’re brilliant.”

“What are we doing?” Rachel asks.

“We can take the door off the hinges by dislodging those pins. We can knock them out with the hammer and screwdriver and then theoretically we should be able to get out.”

She hands me both tools and I start with the top one, my height an advantage here and this way Rachel doesn’t have to stand on a bucket or something. Because she totally would. Hates asking for help.

Except she did, and it got us into this, so maybe I understand why she refrains from doing so most of the time.

Knocking the first peg out takes a couple of tries but I’m able to pry it out once it’s shimmied out of its confines.

Rachel gives a little excited whoop, gripping my bicep in excitement and damn if it doesn’t make me want to rush through this escape.

The second and third pegs are easier once I get the hang of it.

All three pegs rest against Rachel’s palm and I look down at her for a moment before we try it. “You ready?” I ask.

She doesn’t wait to respond, merely pushes against the door and it gives. Dropping to the floor outside with a heavy thud, light streams in, almost blinding. The pegs clink to the floor as she drops them and she rushes out of the room, hopping around the door, and I follow.

“I’m sorry that happened, and that I freaked out. I’m just—” I stammer behind her, my courage leaving me as the brightness steals the intimacy of our confined space. But she doesn’t even let me finish.

Turning, surging up onto her toes, Rachel’s arms wrap around my neck.

One hand gripping the back of my hair, she tugs me down to meet her and I’m lost. Hands splayed around her waist, the back of her tank top scrunched in my grip, I savor her.

Our mouths are hot and wet, the little mewling sound she makes when I nip at her bottom lip only drives it higher.

Before I lose my rationality, before we do something we can’t come back from, I disengage. Just enough space between us so I can speak.

“Are we doing this? Because I need to know what you expect and what you want. This was a high stress situation and I want to make sure you feel?—”

Again, her mouth slots over mine to shut me up and it’s kind of becoming my favorite thing.

“This has nothing to do with the closet. I want you. In whatever way you’re ready for.

Don’t doubt that, Bryce. I know things are confusing and up in the air between us, but please know I’ve wanted you since we first met and you’ve done me absolutely no favors in helping me get over that.

” Her words are rough, whispered an inch away from the seam of my lips and the heat in me rages into an inferno.

“I’d invite you over to my place but I’m back with my parents until I find something else.” It’s supposed to be a bit of a joke, a way to clear the tension that’s near choking, but I don’t quite manage.

“You parked at my place anyway, remember? When you came to pick me up this morning it was early and we were under the misapprehension that it was a nice day out—not this heat hell.”

I walk her backward, kissing her every few feet, trying to keep control until we get out of here.

“We need to shut off the lights and equipment. We have to lock up.” The disappointment in my voice has her laughing again but it’s enough to make our pragmatic sides slip back into place for a moment.

Within five minutes we’re at the doors, padlock in hand ready to chain the place back up. Only when we step outside it’s a downpour. I can’t help the smart comment that comes out of my mouth as she steps into a puddle immediately upon exiting.

“You said you wanted something to break the heat. Here it is.” Gesturing out at the street, our little overhang barely covers us.

“I didn’t know I’d be hoping for a storm!” She shouts it above the sound of rain pelting the ground.

“We’re going to have to make a break for it.”

My hand wraps around hers, both of us jogging down the sidewalk and within a block we are completely soaked.

Crossing the street feels hazardous and I can only hope that cars are following the lights because visibility is incredibly poor.

Rachel’s hand in mine is a grounding force, the heat of her skin against my palm feels like so much more than I thought I’d get.

This might turn out to be a big mistake but I’m tired of playing it safe. I’m through making the smart choice, the expected choice. Rachel’s reminded me what it feels like to actually want something for myself—selfish and unashamed about it.

We make it to her blue door, the lock clicking and she kicks the bottom of the door to get it to open while it’s swollen with moisture.

Then we’re trying our best not to fall on her steep stairs.

I make her go ahead of me, so that if she slips I’ll be able to catch her before she can get hurt.

By the time we’re through her door, our shoes kicked off and discarded beside it, we’re kissing again.

It’s hungry. It’s frustrated from the frequent stopping and starting and constantly being out of reach. She gives as good as she gets. Fingernails digging into my back through my sodden shirt, the material clinging, Rachel’s got her head thrown back as I burn a trail down the side of her neck.

“Please?” she asks and I feel the words against my lips, vibrating through her throat as I nip and suck at her skin.

“Words, Rachel.”

“I want you.” It’s a growl, and I feel bad for asking but I never want to misconstrue this. Whatever is between us, I want to make sure I understand completely before I take that step. “We’re sopping wet. I wanted to take it slow. I’ve thought about this for so long and I want to do this right.”

Her fingernails give my back a reprieve only for her to card her fingers through my hair and give the slightest tug.

“You’re driving me up the wall here.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

I know what she means but my mind stutters on the image of driving into her, against the wall, those legs wrapped around my waist like I’d imagined earlier in the day. Still, I only get one time to make the right first impression. If this goes poorly it could be over before it’s even started.

“Do you trust me?” I ask and she pulls back to stare at me with a question in her eyes.

“What do you?—”

This time I’m the one to cut the words off with my mouth, giving a searing kiss before I pull away to repeat. “Do. You. Trust. Me?”

“Yes.”

My grin splits my face, joy at hearing it and lust at wanting to show her just how much her trust will be rewarded.

I’ve never been the one who took charge in the bedroom, Steph was always too controlling for that, but something about Rachel—the way she looks at me like I’m capable and strong makes me want to prove that.

Walking to her bathroom, I tug Rachel by the hand to ensure she follows. Droplets leave a trail over the wood floors but I don’t care right now. We’ll deal with it later.

She’s got a massive and deep claw foot tub and I send up a silent thanks to whoever owns the building because this is perfect. I would have made a shower work but this . . .

Drawing the bath, hot water pouring from the tap and filling the tub, I pour a little bit of the bubble bath under the spray. Foaming, the steam fills the room and makes my glasses even more useless than the rain did.

She giggles at the sight of my lenses fogging up and carefully removes them from my face to set down beside the sink.

Stepping closer to her, I crowd her against the countertop, the shadow of us in the foggy mirror doing something dangerous to me.

I sweep her wet hair over one shoulder and bend down to press my lips against the curve of where it meets her neck.

Rachel's breath catches, her hands splaying out on the counter and I thread my fingers over hers, raising one to loop around my neck. Kissing against the pulse point in her wrist, the rush of water behind us and the intoxicating feel of her against me making it really hard for me to take it slow the way I’d like to.

“I’ve been dreaming about this, about you. Even today while we were working. Your legs in those shorts . . .” The words are a rasp against her ear lobe.

“You’re not the only one.” She pulls her hand out from under mine and runs her fingertips over my forearm. “These have been on my mind for weeks. It’s embarrassing how much power your forearms have over my thinking ability. Your hands too.”

As much as it pains me, I glance over at the tub and step away to shut off the water before it gets too high. The air is thick with steam and desire, and I can’t believe this is happening right now.

Without saying anything we close the distance between us, her hands in my hair and our mouths tasting.

My hand snakes up under her tank top, palming her in my hand.

Swiping the pad of my thumb against her nipple, I relish the taste of her moan.

Rachel doesn’t stay still for long, tugging at my shirt, urging me to lift it over my head once she’s reached as far as she can at her height.