Page 67 of Steel

I wait for him to take it back, but he doesn’t, so I slowly make my way toward his bedroom. Jameson snatches the bottle of whiskey as he follows me.

With every step, my mind begs me to turn back. But my body hasn’t felt this alive in a long time.

Jameson demands control, and I need that.

To be mindless.

To be free.

I don’t know what’s to come when I leave the compound. But for tonight, I don’t want to think about it.

When I reach his moonlit bedroom, I’m reminded of his room at the clubhouse. The decorations are simple and impersonal. It’s neat, but not because that’s how he is. More so because he never spends any time in it.

Still, it feels like him. A room needs nothing more than Jameson Steel in the flesh to make a statement.

Stopping in the center, I spin around to face Jameson, who’s leaning against the doorframe, holding the bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pops off the top and brings it to his lips, taking a sip as he watches me.

“You look good in here, wildfire.”

“And yet, you’re still standing over there. Do you always play hard to get, Jameson?”

“I’m anything but hard to get when it comes to you.”

“Then why aren’t you teaching me my lesson yet?” I drag my teeth over my lower lip, holding my hands behind my back and testing him.

Jameson smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he lifts off the doorframe. He eats up the space between us in four steps, towering over me.

“You want to play this little game?” He tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Then strip for me.”

I bite my lip, reaching for the bottom of my T-shirt and stripping it off, tossing it to the side. My nipples peak under my lace bra in the cool bedroom.

He shakes his head when I pause. “You’re not done yet.”

I reach for the button on my pants, slowly unzipping them. Taking my time to dip my thumbs into the band and slowly dragging them down my legs. The moon shines through the windows, painting me in the glow of the desert at night when I stand in front of him in nothing but my bra and underwear.

“You think it’s cute to tease me?” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a knife, flicking it open. “I said strip. That means everything.”

One hand holds the bottle of whiskey while he uses the other to trace the knife along my ribs. He sweeps the blade up between my breasts, hooking the lace bow between them. With a swift tug, he slices through it, popping my bra open.

My nipples pebble with his attention as he slowly drags the knife down one breast, teasing my nipple with the tip and then trailing it over my stomach. He pauses at the thin strap that holds my underwear to my hips, cutting through that too.

“That’s better.” He smirks, tossing his knife to the dresser. “Now, get on your knees.”

Slowly, I drop to my knees in front of Jameson.

He’s still fully clothed as he stands over me. His jaw clenches, and he’s everything that embodies the title on his patch.

Ego.

Confidence.

Power.

“How can I serve you, President?”

Jameson swallows hard, watching me, slipping his belt from the loops with his free hand.

“You’re too sweet to be a bad girl.” He tugs his belt off, tossing it to the side. “But you like playing with fire. You like seeing how hot you can stand the heat before it burns you. I warned you not to push this.”

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