Page 18 of Desert Loyalties
She raises a brow, surprised. “Youown a house?”
“Where’d you think I lived?”
She shrugs. “Clubhouse.”
I roll my eyes, chuckling as I open the garage door to the kitchen entrance. “Come on, woman.”
I take her through every inch. The kitchen’s sleek but lived in, black granite and steel. The living rooms got a massive sectional and a TV that would make the boys jealous, if I ever let them come here. The gym’s better equipped than most commercial setups, and when we reach the back deck with the pool lit up in blues and silvers under the night sky, she actually goes quiet.
“Jesus, Mandrake,” she breathes, stepping out to the edge of the deck. “It’s... beautiful.”
But I’m watchingher.
And nothing compares.
I take her upstairs next, leading her into my room, which she probably expected to be chaos but is neat almost sterile. Wallsdark, blackout curtains open exposing the view. She walks to the balcony door and looks out, palm pressed to the glass. She’s still. Staring out over the glowing pool and the stretch of desert beyond.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.
I move behind her, slow. Careful. Like approaching a wild thing I don’t want to spook.
My front presses to her back, fitting just right. I brush her hair off one side, her breath catching as my fingers graze her neck. I lean down, lips brushing that soft spot just beneath her ear, warm and smooth and so damn addictive.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here,” I say against her skin.
She doesn’t move, but I feel her body tense slightly, like she’s holding herself still so the moment doesn’t break.
I kiss her neck, slow, mouth moving down to her shoulder. “Didn’t think it’d matter. Never planned to share it.”
“And now?” she asks, voice low, a little breathless.
“Now I want you everywhere,” I admit. “Here. My house. My bike. My life.”
Her head turns slightly, enough for our eyes to meet over her shoulder. “This... us... it’s not just for fun, right?”
I turn her around to face me, lifting her chin so she can’t look away. “You think I’m the kind of man who brings a woman to his house, tells her his name, hisrealname, shares his past, just for fun?”
She shakes her head, slowly. “No. I think you’re the kind of man who waits a year before doing anything because he’s too busy punishing himself to realize he’s found someone that’s his.”
I go still. Those words? They’re dangerous.
But true.
“You are mine.” I don’t say it as a question, but she answers anyway.
“And you are mine,” she says.
And then she leans un. Her hands come up to my chest, fingers curling in the fabric of my cut. Her lips touch mine, soft at first.
The kiss turns hot. Deep. Desperate. Her hands tug me closer. Mine bury in her hair, slide down her back, grabbing her hips. Our tongues tangle, teeth clashing. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s real.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless.
“You should know,” I murmur against her lips, my forehead resting gently on hers, the heat of her skin grounding me. “I’ve never had someone that’s mine before. So yeah, I’m gonna be a jealous son of a bitch.”
My hand slides along her waist. “You already said you’re mine,” I breathe. “That’s binding. You don’t get to leave me, Skye. Because if you do, I’ll find you. I’ll bring you back.”
For a second, there’s silence. Heavy. Loaded.
