Page 43 of Fallen Dove
“Adley…” I rasped, kissing down her throat, biting gently at her collarbone.
“Please,” she begged.“I need you.”
I shoved her jeans and panties down just enough.The second I slid into her the world went black around the edges.
She was hot, tight, and clenching around me like she’d been made for this moment.My forehead pressed to hers, our breaths mingled, and our bodies slammed together in the quiet of the stockroom.
Quick.Desperate.Perfect.
Her nails dug into my shoulders as her mouth found mine as we moved together.The shelves rattling louder than we dared let ourselves be.My hand clamped over her thigh, held her against me, and I grounded myself before I lost every shred of control.
She came undone first and bit my lip to muffle her cry.That was it for me.I spilled into her, shaking, groaning her name like it was the only word I knew.
The silence after was deafening.Only the sound of our ragged breathing and the faint bass of music seeping through the walls.
I pressed my forehead to hers, still inside her, still unwilling to let go.“If only I could show the world you’re mine,” I whispered before I even realized I’d said it.
Her eyes softened, but I forced myself to pull back, to tuck myself away and help her do the same.My hands shook as I straightened her shirt, and brushed her hair back from her flushed face.
“We can’t stay in here long,” I muttered, guilt already settling heavy in my gut.
She kissed me once more, quick and fierce, before slipping past me to the door.
And then she was gone, back into the noise and the crowd, like we hadn’t just crossed every line again.
I leaned back against the shelf, and drug a hand down my face.
Every rule.Shattered.
And the worst part?I didn’t regret a single second.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mason
I shoved my hands in my cut as I walked down the hallway to the room set up for filming.
I should’ve said no.Should’ve told Wrecker to shove it when he pawned the first interview off on me.But instead I’d nodded like some obedient soldier and agreed to be Mac’s guinea pig.
The office door opened.Mac stuck her head out with her brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail, and glasses perched on her nose.She smiled when she saw me.Not the fake TV smile.Just… Mac.
“You ready, Mason?”
I grunted.“Not sure that’s the word I’d use.”
She chuckled.“Fair enough.Come on in.It won’t be that bad.”
I stepped inside and blinked at the flood of light.The room looked different, like some other place altogether.Black curtains covered the walls to block the glare from the windows.A camera sat on a tripod facing a plain chair in the center.Two box lights angled down, hot and bright, and baked the room in artificial daylight.
Mac motioned toward the chair.“Sit.Pretend you’re not about to be famous.”
“Not interested in famous,” I muttered, and lowered myself into the chair.It creaked under my weight.I shifted, tugged at the hem of my cut, tried not to scowl at the damn lens pointed straight at me.
“Perfect,” Mac said, and slid behind the monitor set up on a folding table.Her voice softened.“I know this feels weird.Just remember, you’re not talking to the camera.You’re talking to me.Don’t think about the camera.Just you and me having a conversation.”
Easy for her to say.She wasn’t the one sweating bullets with a thousand-watt bulb in her face.
I dragged a hand over my jaw.“What do you want me to say?”
