Page 61 of Reckless: Corruption

His smile turns predatory at the edges. “Good thing we’re not most people.”

“Not by a long shot.”

My hand rises of its own accord, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lower lip. He remains perfectly still beneath my touch, a predator allowing approach, his restraint more powerful than any display of force.

“I tried running,” I admit, the truth emerging from behind dismantled firewalls. “From the pack. From this. From you.”

“I noticed.” No judgment in his tone, just wry acceptance.

“Didn’t work out so well.”

“No.”

“I’m done running.”

His eyes darken at my declaration, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of amber remains, like eclipse shadows swallowing sun. “Cayenne...”

“I mean it.” I let my fingers trail down his neck, feeling his pulse leap beneath my touch like code responding to the right command. “I’m staying. For all of it—the pack, the chaos, whatever comes next.” I swallow hard, finally voicing the truth I’ve been avoiding. “For you. For all of you.”

Something wild and beautiful transforms his face—relief and hunger and joy all tangled together like evolutionary code finally finding harmony. “Say it again.”

“I’m staying.” My hand slides around to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. “For you. For all of you.”

The growl that rumbles through his chest vibrates against me, sending heat pooling low in my belly. I’ve always known Jinx was dangerous—all barely leashed violence and feral instinct. But I’ve never felt the full force of that intensity focused solely on me, not like this. It’s like standing at the center of a storm and realizing you’re not afraid of the lightning anymore.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he warns, his voice dropped to that register that makes my skin tingle. “Because if you’re staying, I’m claiming.”

The word should trigger all my warning systems, activate every self-preservation protocol I’ve ever written. Should make me want to bolt, to protect my hard-won independence. Instead, anticipation floods my system, drowning out the lingering effects of the virus with something far more potent.

“Claim away,” I challenge, then gasp as his mouth captures mine.

The kiss is nothing like our first in that bathroom stall—that had been desperate, anonymous, both of us seeking escape in momentary connection. This... this is recognition. This is code finding its perfect match. This is coming home.

His lips claim mine with devastating focus, the kiss deep and thorough from the first touch. No tentative exploration, no cautious testing of boundaries. Jinx kisses like he does everything else—all in, holding nothing back, demanding everything in return.

And god help me, I give it.

My arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer as I arch up against him. His growl rumbles through both our bodies as his weight settles more fully against me, the hard evidence of his desire pressing into my hip.

“Been wanting this,” he murmurs against my lips, “since I found you in that bathroom. Knew you were mine the second I scented you.”

“Possessive much?” But I’m smiling against his mouth, my body betraying how much his words affect me.

“You have no idea.” His teeth nip at my lower lip, the slight sting sending sparks through my system. “Wanted to drag you out of there, take you home, make you mine properly.” His hand slides beneath the shirt I’m wearing—his shirt—fingers splayingacross my ribs just beneath my breast. “Been half-crazy with waiting.”

“No one asked you to wait.” My breath hitches as his thumb brushes the underside of my breast. “I was pretty clear about what I wanted that day.”

His eyes meet mine, startlingly serious. “You wanted a stranger. An escape.” His thumb traces higher, circling my nipple without quite touching where I need him. “I wanted more.”

The simple honesty in his voice undoes me. Because he’s right. That day, I’d wanted anonymous passion. A way to forget the walls closing in around me. I hadn’t wanted connection. Hadn’t wanted to be seen.

Now? Now I crave both.

“Well, you’ve got me now,” I whisper, sliding my hands beneath his shirt, mapping the ridges of muscle and the topography of scars that tell his story like binary written in flesh. “So what are you going to do about it?”

His smile turns predatory. “Show you exactly what happens when I stop holding back.”

The promise in his voice sends liquid heat through my veins. Then he’s kissing me again, harder this time, one hand tangling in my hair to tilt my head exactly how he wants it. I surrender to his expertise, letting him lead this dance of desire that’s been building since that first night.

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