Page 65 of Steel

“Mm-hmm.” He brushes his thumb over my calf, kneading it, teasing me with slow strokes. “Who makes you feel good when you’ve taken everything on? Who takes care of you?”

I swallow hard as he moves down my leg, gripping my foot and kneading the arch.

“Myself, I guess.”

Jameson rubs up my foot—my leg. His other hand does the same, and my head is light. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched that I’ve forgotten how it felt. And Jameson’s firm grip and purposeful strokes are unlike anyone else.

“That’s a shame,” Jameson says, pulling my legs further apart as he rubs them, and I’m suddenly very aware of how his body is warm against my core with how I’m spread open.

He leans back when I’ve stopped massaging him, laying his head back on my thigh and looking up at me. But I don’t lean away; I don’t back up. I stare into his eyes and lose myself in the ocean of his gaze.

His hands roam my legs, and I lose all sense at his touch.

“Thank you, wildfire.”

“For what?”

A smirk climbs up in the corner of his mouth. “Lifting the weight.”

“Even if I’m one of the people who makes it heavier?” The tension between us is so thick, the heat of him has me in flames.

“Especially then.”

Before I can shoot off another sassy comment, he reaches up and grabs the back of my hair, pulling me to him.

18

Tempe

Jameson’s lips meet mine,and my heart leaps to my throat.

We’re stripped of who we are and fall into this moment. Two people with responsibilities we still don’t fully understand and didn’t have a choice in accepting them. Weight we’ve been carrying around, unwilling to share the burden when it’s hard to trust anyone but ourselves.

Tonight, we shoulder it together. We bend to the pressure. We submit.

Jameson’s fingers thread through my hair, and he holds me to him. The scruff of his jaw is rough like he is. Burning me from my cheek to my soul.

I part my lips, and he drinks me in. His tongue reaches for mine, and I cup his face in my palms. The most delicate kiss from a man with blood on his hands.

Hands that keep me safe.

Hands that make my skin prickle.

Our teeth clash, and our tongues tangle. And even if the kiss is awkward and upside down, it wakes my every nerve ending.

He smells like leather even out of his cut. He tastes like whiskey mixed with the cinnamon gum he was chewing after dinner. And he feels like my body’s favorite drug as he kisses me slowly.

With purpose.

Jameson’s warm back presses to my core, and when he lightens his grip on my hair, I pull back to look down at him sitting on the floor between my legs. I stare into the gray eyes that stole my soul the moment I first looked into them.

I promised I’d never give myself to a man like the ones my mom always fell for.

Promised I was smarter than to hand my heart to a biker.

Looking into Jameson’s eyes, I don’t know where I went wrong—or if this even is. All I know is that I need more of him.

“You’re supposed to hate me, Tempe.” He blinks up at me. “Why are you kissing me back?”

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