"Deal.”
CHAPTER 2
BLAZE
My career requires me to be reckless. I’ve jumped out of planes. I’ve crawled through enemy territory with nothing but a knife and a prayer. Hell, I let my buddies talk me into a tattoo at three in the morning in a country I can't even spell.
But walking Serena back to her apartment might be the most dangerous thing I've ever done.
She's sweet, too sweet for me and she’s been smiling at me all night. She’s listened to my stories like I’m the most interesting person she’s ever met. The way she’s clinging to my hand now like I’m her favorite person cracks my chest wide open.
We switched to water hours ago. She’s sober and steady on her own feet, but she leans into me anyway. It’s like her body knows it belongs to me and it’s acting before her brain has a chance to catch up.
I don't know what came over me when I saw her sitting at the bar.
My reaction was visceral. Every muscle in my body tensed. It isn’t like me. I don't chase women. I’ve never needed to be honest. They come to me. It's fine. Easy… Forgettable.
But there’s nothing forgettable about Serena.
The way she laughs at my terrible jokes. The way she throws her head back. The way it exposes her throat. The way her curves are burned into my mind is criminal. She’s all full hips, round thighs, and breasts that would overflow my hands in the best possible way.
She's not some delicate little thing. She's built like a woman who could take everything I want to give her. And I want to give her everything.
Serena’s mine and she doesn’t even know it. It's wild given I've known her for three hours. But my body doesn't care about logic. My body knows what it wants.
"This is me," she says, stopping in front of a door on the second floor.
Her keys jingle in her hand, and she's looking up at me with those big brown eyes. I can practically see the war happening behind them.Stay. Go. Stay. Go.
I should make it easy for her. Should say goodnight like a gentleman and walk away. I should forget her name by morning.
But instead, I step closer.
"Serena."
She sucks in a breath. "Blaze?—"
"Tell me to leave." I lift my hand, brush a strand of hair from her face. My fingers graze her cheek, and she shivers. "Tell me this is a bad idea, and I'll go. No questions. No pressure."
She's quiet for a long moment. I can hear her heartbeat. Or maybe that's mine.
"It's a terrible idea," she whispers. “I don’t do things like this, ever. There are noone nightstories for me.”
"I know." I brush a strand of hair from her face.
"I don't even know your last name."
"Reynolds." I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. "Blaze Reynolds. I'm thirty-one. I grew up in Oregon. I like black coffee,old trucks, and the way you've been looking at me all night like you're trying to talk yourself out of something."
She laughs, but it's breathless. Shaky. "And if I can't talk myself out of it? Even if it is only one night."
I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes. "Then invite me in."
The silence stretches between us. One second. Two… She unlocks the door.
She became mine the second she looked at me across that bar.
The moment we're inside, everything changes.
