Chapter 2
ALARIC DIDN’T BELIEVEin impulse. He believed in sequences—cause leading to effect, pressure finding the fracture point, desire revealing itself as data before he ever acknowledged it asneed.
Standing in the secure office of his home with Sera Carrington in his arms, her body fitting against his like it had always known where to go, he recognized that every defense he’d built had just been breached.
The room still hummed with the quiet presence of locked-down systems. No wireless signals. No external connections. Just hard lines and the rapid cadence of her breathing against his chest. They’d spent hours shoulder to shoulder, tracing the intrusion, sealing the exploit, their shared focus compressed into something sharp and singular.
And now this.
Her palms flattened against his chest, not pushing away. Testing. Feeling his heart hammer beneath the fabric of his shirt. The adrenaline from solving the breach hadn’t faded—it had redirected, transformed into something more dangerous.
“Alaric.” His name on her lips sounded different than it had all night. Softer. Questioning.
He tilted her chin up with one hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her dark eyes were wide, pupils blown, but steady. No fear. No hesitation. Just awareness of what crossing this line wouldmean.
“What do you want, Sera?”
Her breath hitched. Color bloomed high on her cheeks. For a heartbeat, she simply looked at him, and he watched her make the choice. Watched logic war with want andlose.
“I’ve been careful for months,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be careful anymore.”
Something in him snapped.
He kissed her hard, tasting the sharp edge of her gasp, the sweetness underneath. She opened for him immediately, tongue meeting his with a boldness that made heat slam down his spine. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, and he obliged,angling her head with his other hand so he could take the kiss deeper, make it filthier.
God, she tasted good. Like coffee and something uniquely her, something he wanted to catalog, memorize, consume. He couldn’t get enough. His tongue stroked against hers, learning the shape of her mouth, the way she responded when he sucked on her bottom lip, the small gasp she made when his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh.
His hand slid from her back down to her hip, then lower, gripping her ass and pulling her flush against him. She could feel exactly what she did to him now—his cock hard and aching, pressed against her stomach. When she rolled her hips, grinding against him, he groaned into her mouth.
“Fuck,” he breathed against her lips, barely pulling back. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”
“Yes, Ido,” she whispered, breathless. Her hands shifted against his chest, fingers splaying wide like she needed to touch as much of him as possible. “Because I’ve wanted it just as long.”
That confession—raw and honest—broke something loose in him. He kissed her again, deeper, more demanding, until they were both panting and desperate. His hand found the hem of her blouse and slippedbeneath it, palm flattening against the warm, bare skin of her lower back. She arched into the touch with a small sound of pleasure that made his bloodburn.
He traced his fingers up the elegant line of her spine, absorbing her shiver, then back down to the waistband of her skirt. Every inch of her skin was softer than he’d imagined, warmer, more responsive. When he scraped his nails lightly across her lower back, she gasped and pressed closer.
“Alaric,” she breathed against his mouth. “Please.”
“Please what?” He needed to hear her say it. Needed her voice telling him exactly what she wanted.
“Bedroom. Now. Before I lose my mind.”
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, her lips were swollen and slick.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid from her back to her hip, fingers pressing possessively into soft curves. “Tell me now, Sera, or I’m taking you to my bedroom and I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”
Her eyes flashed. “Then stop talking and take me.”
Control snapped.
He lifted her in one motion, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her through the mansion. She kissed his neck, teeth scraping his pulse point, and he nearly stumbled. Nearly forgot the mechanics of walking when her tongue traced the shell of his ear and she whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
The confession hit him like a fist. How many nights had he lain awake thinking about her? How many times had he watched her work and imagined those competent hands on his skin instead of a keyboard?
He kicked open the bedroom door and deposited her on the bed. Moonlight painted her in silver and shadow, turning her into something ethereal and utterly profane. She sat up on her elbows, hair spilling around her shoulders, and watched him with dark eyes that held challenge and invitation in equal measure.
“Clothes off,” he ordered, already stripping his shirt over his head. The cool air hit his chest, but all he felt was heat—the burn of her gaze tracking over his body, lingering on his shoulders, his abs, the V of muscle disappearing into his waistband. “Now.”
