Every instinct in me is still screaming the same warning. Anyone who realizes she matters to me will see her as a vulnerability.
My hands slide up her thighs, rough and impatient, pushing her dress out of the way. I need to touch her. Notgently. Not carefully. The lace of her underwear gives with a quiet rip, the sound final in the small space. Her breath catches hard, and that sharp inhale goes straight through me.
She’s clawing at my shirt, fingers scrabbling for purchase. I don’t bother helping. I yank it over my head, buttons scattering across the floor.
Our chests collide, putting her softness against me. The heat, the friction nearly undoes me. There’s no buffer left.
I fumble with my belt, irritation spiking as the wait stretches thin. When I finally free myself and press against her, she’s already wet. The sound she makes is low and unguarded. It drags one out of me, too.
Lifting her takes no effort. Her legs wrap around my waist as I pin her back against the shelves.
Something creaks. I ignore it. I push into her hard enough that the force should register as caution, but all that exists is the need to be inside her. To anchor her there. To claim the moment, if nothing else.
Her moans fill the closet, breathy and unrestrained. My own voice comes out rough as I move, the sound of skin meeting skin swallowed by the hum of the equipment around us.
Her nails rake down my back, sharp enough to sting. It only drives me harder.
“I love you,” I mutter against her ear, the words tearing loose before I can cage them. “You’re mine.”
The admission lands hard. There’s no room to take it back. There is no alcohol to hide behind tonight.
She answers me with my name, her voice breaking, her body tightening around me. The sound sinks deep, settles somewhere it has no business settling.
We lose whatever rhythm we had left. Everything turns frantic, desperate. She clenches on my cock, her bodypulling me with her, and I follow without restraint. I come hard, buried deep, the release leaving me hollowed and breathless.
My father used to say that anything truly safe stayed boring. The moment it drew attention, you were already late.
When I set her back on her feet, my forehead drops to hers. Sweat slicks our skin. Our breathing is uneven, tangled together. My thumb traces her hip without thinking.
“You drive me insane,” I murmur.
Her reply is quiet, stripped bare. “I love you, Ridge.”
I pull her in, my arms closing around her. My arms close around her before I realize I’ve done it.
“I’ll keep you safe,” I say. “No matter what.”
The silence afterward is heavy but not awkward. My hand stays at her waist. She toys with the collar of my shirt, then snorts softly when she realizes most of the buttons are gone. I huff a quiet laugh.
Her eyes search mine, intent enough that the rest of the world drops away.
She smooths her dress down over her thighs. Watching her do it makes the want coil again, sharp and unwelcome. The air in the closet feels thin now.
“We should get out of here,” I say.
“I want you to meet someone first,” she replies, catching me off guard.
I tilt my head. “Who?”
“Delphine. My best friend.” Her fingers tighten in my shirt. “She matters to me. And so do you. I want her to know you. The real you.”
The words hit harder than they should. I stare at her, instinct screaming refusal. After a beat, I nod anyway.
“Fine.”
Her smile twists something in my chest. She kisses me quickly, murmuring her thanks.
Letting her pull me into this says more than the words ever could. I don’t like it. I don’t stop it.
