Chapter 12 #2
The command, combined with a particularly perfect twist of his fingers, sends me over.
I shatter. My muscles lock, then release in spasms around his fingers.
He gentles his touch, working me down from the high with deliberate strokes until the intensity fades to shivers and my muscles give up entirely.
When I can breathe again, his mouth is on mine before I can think. He pulls back. “Do you have any idea how incredible you are?” And then he kisses me again, deeper, with more longing.
I’m already working at his belt, and his hips shift forward, helping. His pants hit the floor, and then there’s nothing between us but the thin cotton of his underwear. I can see the hard length of him straining against his boxer briefs, and my mouth waters.
I hook my fingers in the waistband and pull down, freeing him. Breck is thick and hard and perfect, and when I wrap my hand around him, he bites out a curse.
“I need to be inside of you,” he manages to say.
He pulls a condom from his wallet—thank god one of us is thinking—and rolls it on with hands that shake slightly. Then he’s positioning himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him forward, taking him in one smooth thrust. We both gasp at the sensation—the stretch, the fullness, the absolute rightness of it.
He holds still, allowing me to adjust to his size, his whole body tensing. “Fuck. This is better than I ever dreamed it would be.”
I rock my hips experimentally, needing more. “Move.”
And then his control snaps. He sets a rhythm that’s both gentle and demanding, each thrust hitting deep.
The pressure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter in my core.
One hand grips my hip, holding me steady, while the other braces against the workstation behind me.
The metal creaks beneath us, servers humming their constant song, emergency lights casting everything in shades of crimson.
I can feel every inch of him, the drag and pull as he moves inside me. His breath is hot against my neck. His grip on my hip is tight enough to bruise, and I love it. Love the proof that he’s as lost in this as I am.
He shifts the angle slightly, and the world narrows to that single point of contact. Everything else—the room, the servers, reality—ceases to exist. There is only pressure and heat, and the way my body is rewiring itself around this sensation.
His hand slides between us, fingers finding where we’re joined. His fingers on my clit while he’s buried inside me forces a sound past my lips that is pure desperation.
“I can feel every time your pussy tightens around me.” His thumb circles with deliberate pressure. “You're going to soak my cock when you come. I want to feel it.”
I never knew I had a thing for dirty talk until this moment. Until Breck.
My hips rock to meet his rhythm, chasing more friction, more everything. The workstation creaks with each thrust, and I don’t care about anything other than what is happening right here, right now.
“Breck!” I can barely form his name. My thighs tremble. My nails dig into his shoulders.
The orgasm hits harder than the first, stealing my breath and my vision.
I clench around him, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through me, and the feel of it pulls him over with me.
He buries himself deep, his whole body shuddering as he finds his release, my name stuttered and breathless on his lips.
We stay like that for several heartbeats, breathing hard, holding each other as the aftershocks fade. His hand strokes my back in soothing circles.
Reality creeps back in slowly, and I take notice once again of our surroundings.
The cold metal beneath me. The hum of servers. The red emergency lighting that makes everything feel surreal.
And then regret hits. What did we do? We can’t come back from this.
Breck pulls back, his features soft in the strange light. “Remy—”
The alarm cuts him off. A single, sustained note signals the end of the lockdown. The steel door clicks open, and fluorescent hallway lights spill into the server room.
We scramble to separate, grabbing clothes, dressing with hands that shake from more than exertion. My blouse is wrinkled, my skirt twisted, and I don’t even want to think about what my hair looks like.
Breck tucks in his shirt and runs a hand through his hair to smooth it down. He looks wrecked in the best manner—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and eyes dark.
I step back, panic rising in my throat.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
When the infatuation with me stops, what if he fires me? What if Enzo and Ansel fire me, regardless, because I just fucked someone in the server room?
Breck reaches for me.
I cut him off before he can say anything. “Don’t. We can’t talk about this.”
“Remy, what are you talking about?”
“We got caught up in the moment.” The admission rips out of me. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect anything from you. We can pretend this never happened.”
Even though I know I will never be able to pretend I didn’t just have the best sex of my life.
He takes a step toward me. “Don’t do this.”
I grab my blazer from the floor, shrugging it on even though it’s wrinkled beyond recognition. “We work together. I’m not going to make this weird. But we can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
I exhale and decide not to hold back my feelings.
“Because I could lose everything when you lose interest in me! My career, my reputation… Damon spread rumors about me, and I couldn’t bear it if you did the same thing.
If anyone learns about this, I’m done. And not just here. Word spreads fast in this industry.”
Breck goes very still. “I would never do that to you. Ever.”
“Please, Breck.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care.
“So that’s it? We pretend this didn’t happen?”
I need to escape. I need air. “It’s the only option.”
The formality of my response makes him flinch.
I’m already moving toward the door. “I have to go. We should leave separately. You wait a few minutes.”
I don’t let him speak. I walk through the door and into the fluorescent hallway, my heels clicking against linoleum with each step.
His voice follows me out. “I’ll handle the security footage.”
I don’t turn around to acknowledge the comment. But my shoulders relax slightly knowing that at least no one will see what we did.
The building is mostly empty at this hour. There are a few night shift workers and security personnel, but no one to witness my walk of shame, my wrinkled clothes, or my swollen lips that feel like they’re broadcasting exactly what I did.
I take the stairs because the elevator feels too public. Each floor I climb, the ache in my chest intensifies. I don’t even bother going back to my office to collect my things. I have my car keys, that’s all I need.
By the time I reach the parking garage, I can barely breathe.
The silver car—the one the brothers gave me—sits in its designated spot. I climb inside and lock the doors, then sit there in the darkness, hands shaking on the steering wheel.
I can still feel Breck’s hands on my skin, hear the sounds he made when he came, and I can still taste him on my lips.
And I walked away from him like it meant nothing.
Like he meant nothing.
And I try to convince myself that it’s true. The lie burns in my throat, but what choice did I have?
My phone buzzes. I pull it out, half-hoping, half-dreading it’s him.
Breck: I’m not giving up on you. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Probably with coffee. Maybe flowers. I’m predictable like that.
And that is precisely what I want. I want someone to bring me coffee. I want someone to bring me flowers. But I also want him. I want Breck.
I stare at the message until my vision blurs. Then I start the car and drive home through empty streets, leaving him behind even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to turn around.
Because there’s another truth I can’t admit out loud: it’s not just Breck I’m falling for. It’s all three of them.