Page 80 of Reckless: Corruption

With a deep breath, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my underwear and slide them down, stepping out of them with as much dignity as I can muster. The cool air of the training room raises goosebumps on my bare skin, or maybe it’s the intensity of Ryker’s gaze as he takes in every inch of me.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice eases some of my self-consciousness. “Now turn around. Hands on the wall. Feet shoulder-width apart.”

I comply, facing the wall with my palms pressed against its cool surface. The position leaves me feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way that should trigger all my security protocols but somehow doesn’t. Not with Ryker. Not now.

His body heat announces his presence behind me moments before his hand traces a path down my spine. “Trust,” he says, voice low and intimate, “means knowing I’ll never harm you. Never take what you don’t freely give.” His fingers trail lower, over the curve of my ass, down the back of my thigh. “But it alsomeans accepting that I know what you need, even when you fight it.”

“And what do I need?” I manage, voice huskier than intended.

“This.” His hand connects with my ass in a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The sensation startles more than hurts, a bright sting that quickly fades to warmth.

“That’s for running,” he explains, his hand soothing over the spot he just struck. “For thinking you had to face Sterling alone.” Another slap, harder this time, on the other cheek. “For not trusting us to protect you as fiercely as you tried to protect us.”

A third strike lands, harder still, and a small sound escapes me—not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but somewhere intoxicatingly between.

“Color?” Ryker asks, his hand returning to gentle strokes.

The question confuses me for a moment before I recognize it—a check-in, a safety protocol. “Green,” I respond, surprised by how much I mean it.

“Good girl.” His praise sends warmth spreading through me. “Five more. Count them.”

The next slap lands right at the sensitive curve where ass meets thigh. “One,” I gasp, the sting sharper than before.

Another follows immediately, on the opposite side. “Two.”

Byfive, my ass is burning pleasantly and my thighs are clenched against the arousal building between them. Ryker’s hand soothes over heated skin, his touch no longer teasing but assessing, making sure he hasn’t gone too far.

“You took that beautifully,” he murmurs, approval evident in his voice. “Now turn around.”

I obey, facing him with more confidence than I expected to feel while mostly naked. His eyes are dark with desire, but there’s something else there too—pride, maybe. Admiration.

“On your knees again,” he instructs.

This time, I don’t hesitate. The training mat is firmer than I’d like against my knees, but the discomfort feels... right, somehow. Part of whatever this is between us.

Ryker’s hand returns to my hair, fingers threading through the strands. “Do you understand why I did that?”

“Because I ran,” I answer, looking up at him.

“Because you didn’t trust us,” he corrects gently. “The punishment isn’t for leaving. It’s for thinking you had to face danger alone when you have a pack ready to fight beside you.”

The distinction matters more than I would have expected. Not condemnation of my choice, but of the lack of faith behind it.

“I understand,” I whisper.

“Good.” His hand tightens slightly in my hair. “Now show me.”

I don’t need clarification. My hands move to his tactical pants, undoing the button and lowering the zipper with more eagerness than finesse. His arousal is evident, straining against black boxer briefs that do nothing to hide his impressive size.

“May I?” I ask, fingers hovering at the waistband of his underwear.

Something like approval flashes in his eyes. “Yes.”

I free him with careful movements, breath catching at the sight. He’s fully hard, impressively thick, a drop of pre-come already glistening at the tip. Alpha in every sense of the word, the base already showing early signs of his knot.

“Color?” he checks again, his hand gentling in my hair.

“Very green,” I answer honestly, already leaning forward.

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