She smiled, slow and knowing. “Because I reserve my time for special people.”
He turned fully toward her. “That so,” he said, one brow lifting. “I’m here.”
His eyes stayed on her, steady, unflinching, reverent, like the world had narrowed to her shape and nothing else.
“Exactly.” After a beat, she nudged his hip with hers, light and teasing. “I might have gotten you here under false pretenses.”
He blinked once. “What are you up to? You roping me into an op? You need overwatch?”
She laughed. “Instead of foreplay?”
He huffed out a breath, the corner of his mouth tugging. “I was such an insufferable tool. I was trying to contain myself.” His gaze dragged over her, unapologetic. “I didn’t stand a fucking chance.”
“Don’t feel bad,” she said lightly. “A Mountie always gets her man.”
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing off the glass walls of the sunroom. Every minute with her pushed him closer to the edge, the effort to hold himself together taking real, physical work.
“Duty calls. I’ve got to do something for HQ before we relax,” Blair said, her voice light, but Breakneck knew her too well. There was a purposeful edge to it, like she was bracing herself.
“What exactly?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended. He watched her, trying to read the set of her shoulders.
“I need to bake a cake,” Blair responded, a small, almost mischievous smile playing on her lips.
“What? Did you lose a bet?” The question was out before he could stop it, a flicker of relief cutting through his tension. A cake. That was harmless.
“No. It’s Tyler’s birthday.” She said it softly, her eyes locking on his, watching him. And just like that, the relief evaporated, replaced by a familiar, bitter acid. Breakneck ran a hand through his hair, the gesture doing nothing to soothe the sudden, tight knot in his gut.
“Tyler…fuck.” The name was a curse on his tongue.
“I know he’s not your favorite person. I think I know why,” she said, her voice gentle now, which somehow made it worse.
“I don’t think you do,” he countered, his tone sharp. He turned away from her gaze, the accusation in it too much to bear. She thought this was simple jealousy. She had no idea.
“I’ve…never been with him, ever, Kelly.” Her voice was a raw, honest plea, and it made his chest ache. He spun back to face her, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping him.
“That doesn’t worry me,” he said, his voice dropping low. Dangerous. He stepped toward her without thinking. “I saw the way he was looking at me when I was on Talon. He knows your attention shifted. I know when a woman wants me. I’m damn good at it.”
The words landed hard.
That kind of confidence had always worked. It was easy. Women saw the body, the edge, the reputation. He let them. They got heat. He got distraction.
Nobody asked for more. He made sure of that.
But saying it now, here, it felt cheap. Like he was dragging old habits into a room that deserved better.
What he wanted from Blair wasn’t heat.
It was everything.
God, he couldn’t shake the lingering shame that stung. He might not know how to do this right. He didn’t have a playbook. He wasn’t operating from training or experience or rules of engagement. He was going on instinct alone, and for the first time in his life, that instinct wasn’t telling him how to take. It was telling him how to share…himself.
“Then—” She started, but he was done talking. He closed the distance between them, his frustration and too much regret boiling over.
“You turned to him when I was being that insufferable idiot because I was killing myself to keep my hands off you,” he snarled, the words ripped from his chest. “Trying to process my own shit the only way I knew how. So, you…got your comfort from him. He got pieces of you I wanted. That’s what pissed me off.” His chest heaved and his breathing turned ragged, each gasp a testament to the storm raging inside him, angry and gutted.
He lifted a hand, his knuckles grazing her cheek with a tenderness that contradicted the violence of his confession. “I want you to come to me, angel. Give me all your fears, hopes, and pain. I want to be your man in all ways that matter. God, help me, Blair. I want to earn the trust you say you have for me.” He’d laid himself bare, every ugly, desperate part of him exposed.
Her lips parted, and she blinked rapidly, her throat working to swallow past the sudden, overwhelming lump of emotion. “No man has ever spoken to me like that,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re making it very difficult to focus on baked goods.”
