Chapter 12
Remy
Ansel and Enzo left for San Francisco yesterday morning to attend a tech conference with panels on emerging security threats and networking opportunities they couldn’t miss. Which means I’ve spent the past two days working almost exclusively with Breck.
Not that I’m complaining. He’s brilliant at operations, patient when explaining the company’s internal processes, and he makes me laugh when the work gets tedious. But there’s an undercurrent of tension between us that hasn’t dissipated since our almost-kiss at the bar.
Every accidental touch, every lingering glance, it’s building a tension that I don’t know if I will be able to take much longer.
But I am secretly enjoying the pull between Breck and me as a distraction from thinking about Stanley Trent’s threat. The triplets said they’re looking into it, so I’m choosing to trust them and try not to think about it.
I’m three levels below ground in the server room, running final diagnostics on new security protocols, when the alarm sounds. Not the fire alarm. The lockdown alarm.
Breck looks up from the terminal across the room, and his chair scrapes against the floor. “What the hell?”
My thoughts exactly.
The heavy steel door slams shut with a pneumatic hiss that echoes off the concrete walls. Red emergency lights flicker on, bathing everything in crimson.
I pull up the security interface on my tablet. “Someone triggered the containment protocol. The entire sublevel is locked down.”
Breck crosses to the door and tests the handle. It doesn’t budge.
It was worth a shot, I guess.
I scan through the system logs, each line of code making my stomach drop. “No. It’s a hard lock. Once it’s engaged, we’re stuck here until security manually resets it from the outside.”
Of course. Because the tension between us wasn’t complicated enough.
My tablet chimes with an internal message. I read it, then look up at Breck. “Security says there was a perimeter breach detected. False alarm, but protocol requires a full sweep before they can release the locks. Thirty minutes minimum.”
“Thirty minutes.” He exhales sharply. “Fantastic. So, we’re trapped.”
My mind immediately goes to places it shouldn’t about how we could fill that time.
The silence lingers, filled only by the constant hum of servers and the occasional beep from monitoring equipment. The emergency lighting casts shadows that make the already cramped space feel smaller.
Breck moves to the chair beside mine. “Could be worse.” He looks around. “At least the air circulation is working. And you’re better company than Enzo, so there’s that.” He looks at me. “Silver linings.”
A smile plays on my lips. I glance at the vents, confirming the steady flow, but still feeling warm, despite the cool air.
“This actually gives us time to talk about something that’s been on my mind.” He rests his hand on my shoulder, and I hold my breath at his touch. “It’s been different between us since the bar.”
My hands are still on the keyboard. “I haven’t noticed.”
It’s a lie.
“Remy…” And my name on his lips sounds like an invitation to trust him.
I keep my eyes on the screen, watching lines of code scroll past without really seeing them. “We both had too much to drink. It didn’t mean anything.”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”
The certainty in his response makes me look up. He’s watching me with an intensity I’ve never seen from him before. This is Breck stripped bare, raw and honest.
My throat tightens. “What do you want me to say?”
Breck leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You pulled away from me that night, but I need you to understand why I let you go. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you.”
My pulse kicks up. “Breck, when Damon and I dated, I remember how many women you were with. The same is true for Enzo and Ansel. There was a constant revolving door of beautiful women. And how long did any of those relationships last? A week? Two? Even though we didn’t interact much during that time, I was with Damon long enough to watch the pattern repeat itself. ”
He blinks, like he’s absorbing the blow. “You’re right. We did. But none of them were you.”
I turn and give him an incredulous look.
“I’ve been falling for you since the first day you walked into that interview.” The confession rushes out like he’s been holding it back for too long. “You were fierce and brilliant and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
I can’t process what he’s saying to me.
The words keep tumbling over each other. “And then you kept being amazing. How you fixed that presentation error in the car. How you handled Damon’s bullshit with more grace than he deserved. How you fixed the breach and have saved our asses countless times since.”
I hold up a hand. “Stop.”
His fingers brush mine where my other hand rests on my knee. “No. Everything I’m saying is true. And what I am feeling… it scares me.”
The room feels smaller. “Why would that scare you?”
Long seconds pass before he answers. He stands, pacing the narrow space between servers. “My parents died when I was fourteen.”
I already know this from Sadie, but I let him tell me.
He stops pacing, facing me. “Ansel handled it by taking control of everything. Enzo pushed everyone away so he couldn’t get hurt again. And I learned to make people comfortable. To be whatever they needed so they wouldn’t leave.”
This is something I have already witnessed firsthand, but his trusting me enough to say this out loud makes warmth spread through my chest. “That’s exhausting. Being what everyone needs instead of who you are.”
Breck nods. “If everyone thinks I’m fine, they don’t look deeper.”
I stand, moving closer to him. “Breck—”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “And being real with people is fucking terrifying. Because I’m terrified you won’t like the real me.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but his confession was all I needed to hear to finally act on the tension that’s been building between us.
I close the distance between us and kiss him.
He freezes for half a second, then his hands come up to cup my face, and he’s kissing me back like he’s been starving for it.
This kiss isn’t tentative or testing. It’s desperate and everything I’ve been wanting since that night at the bar.
His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head back so he can deepen the kiss. I grab his shirt, pulling him closer, and he makes a sound low in his throat that makes my thighs clench.
He walks me backward until my back hits the cool metal of a server rack.
His body presses against mine, solid and warm, and I can feel every hard line of him through our clothes.
His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, down the column of my throat.
I tilt my head back, giving him access. Each press of his lips, each scrape of teeth leaves me more desperate.
He moves lower, and the rasp of his stubble against my collarbone makes my back arch involuntarily, my body seeking more contact.
“Tell me to stop,” he says between kisses. “Tell me this is a mistake.”
My hands slide under his shirt, finding warm skin and hard muscle. “It probably is. I don’t care.”
He lifts his head, eyes dark and intense in the red emergency lighting. One word from me, and he’ll stop.
I pull him down for another kiss. “Stop thinking.”
He does. His hands grip and explore, fingers pressing into soft flesh like he’s trying to prove I’m real.
My blazer hits the floor. His shirt follows.
There’s nothing careful about how we touch each other, like we both know this moment matters, that it’s the line we can’t uncross.
His fingers work at the buttons of my blouse, while his lips trail kisses along my neck.
“You’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. ”
Breathless, I manage, “Only weeks?”
He pauses, looking up at me. “Okay. Months. Since the first day.”
My blouse joins the growing pile of discarded clothing, and then his hands are on my skin, warm and sure.
He lifts me, and my legs wrap around his waist automatically.
He carries me to the workstation, clearing the surface with one arm and setting me down on the edge.
The metal is cold against the back of my thighs, but I don’t care because Breck is standing between my legs, and his hands are everywhere.
His fingers work at the clasp of my bra. “Anyone could walk in once the lockdown ends.”
I pull him closer, and he groans. “Then let’s make the time we have count.”
My bra hits the floor, and then his mouth is on my breast. I arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me. His tongue circles my nipple before his teeth graze the sensitive peak, and the combination makes me cry out.
His hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt, fingers tracing the edge of my underwear with maddening lightness. Every nerve ending in my body is focused on that touch, on the promise of more.
I rock my hips, seeking more, seeking anything. “Breck, please…”
His fingers brush over the lace. “I’ll give you everything you need.”
I grab his wrist, guiding his hand where I want it.
He hooks his fingers in the lace and pulls, the fabric tearing. Then his hand is on my bare skin, and I’m gasping into his mouth. His fingers slide through my folds, exploring, learning. “Fuck, Little Genius. So wet already.”
I can barely form words. “I’ve wanted this, too.”
He circles my clit with his thumb while two fingers slide inside me. My head falls back against the monitor behind me, my hips moving in rhythm with his hand.
“Look at me.” I force my eyes open. “I want to watch you and learn what makes you feel good.”
The intensity in his gaze, combined with the perfect pressure of his fingers, pushes me toward the edge faster than I thought possible. Every stroke hits exactly right, building pressure that’s almost unbearable.
His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping my pulse point. “That’s it, Remy. Your pussy is so wet… so ready. Let go for me.”