Page 69 of Reckless: Collision

“I only need three.” She rushes to the bedroom, my competitive little minx.

My.

One simple word. She isn’t mine. She’s a house guest, and yet I can’t hide the hopeful joy that single word brings me. And the fact that she loves one of my favorite series?

Yes. A thousand times yes.

I skip back up the steps and head toward the front door where Jinx is already waiting. He’s a walking danger sign in his signature look—jeans, hoodie, Carhartt jacket, hat with the hood flipped up. A ghetto walking wet dream that makes me sigh at the sight.

“You’re attracted to danger.” His eyes find mine from beneath his lashes, carrying that edge of beautiful madness I can never resist.

“Yes.” I don’t deny it as I slide into my Italian loafers and shrug on my jacket. No point lying to a predator who can smell truth.

A grumbling Ryker walks down the hall, eyes squinting at me like I’m in trouble—and honestly, I hope it’s the sexy kind.His jeans and white t-shirt cling in ways that make me want to compose symphonies of sin. He pauses before me, arms crossed, while behind him Finn follows with a dangerous smirk.

I wonder how he convinced our alpha.

“Midnight,” Ryker grumbles.

I hum, stepping closer. “Are we roleplaying Cinderella?” I grab the loop of his jeans, tugging him toward me.

“No.”

I pull him flush against me, letting him feel exactly what he does to me. “We could.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” His voice drops to that alpha register that makes my omega purr.

“What game is that?”

“We both know what game it is.” He leans down, brushing his lips against my ear in a promise of retribution.

“Where to?” Cayenne’s voice cuts through the tension.

It’s been exactly three minutes.

I look past Ryker and my brain short-circuits. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. I thought maybe she’d come up in a shirt and jeans, practical boots for the cold. After all, she is a practical girl—I’ve seen at least four different pairs of sneakers in her luggage.

Jinx whistles long and low.

Ryker drops his head to my neck, muttering, “I don’t want to know what she’s wearing.”

“Oh but you do, Alpha.” My voice comes out breathier than intended. “Oh but you do.”

I swallow my desire, but it’s a losing battle. There before us stands Cayenne in the tightest, shortest, slinkiest sequined black dress ever crafted. Those long legs could kill a man, especially in heels that look more like weapons than footwear. Her red hair flows to mid-back like liquid fire, and in her hands are two clutches—practicality meeting sin.

“I’m calling shotgun.” She holds up one clutch with deliberate casualness. “I’ll need to do my makeup.”

“It’s only a ten-minute drive.” Finn’s strained voice betrays him.

“I only need nine.” She winks at him, and my beautiful beta blushes hard enough to rival her hair. “Ready?”

“You look...” Jinx trails off, that feral edge bleeding into his tone. “Like a wet dream.”

“You look like you’re about to rob a bank.” She fires back without missing a beat. “Raw.”

“Raw?”

“Look it up.” She smirks, all beta defiance wrapped in omega temptation. “Who’s driving?”

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