Page 46 of Bronson

Bronson turns to me, his eyes cloud with uncertainty. “Are you sure? You can’t un-see this.”

Nerves and fear of the unknown knot my stomach. But the thrill of adventure, danger, and the delicious smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body pressing against me win. “Yes. I have to see it.”

He smiles.

We exit the car. He takes my hand and pulls me toward the street. His car disappears down the alley. I wait on the stone step, while he unlocks the front door. We walk into Bachman’s. It’s dark and quiet and a touch eerie in here at night. He shuts the door behind us, flipping the lock. Using the light on his phone, he leads me to the back of the store. He unlocks his office door, taking me to the back of the room. There’s a smaller door, one I had always assumed belonged to a closet. He opens that door and turns on a light. Inside is a short, empty hallway. At the end of the hall is yet another door. Taking my hand, he leads me down the hall.

There, on the wall, is a small black rectangular pad. He presses his thumb to it. A green light blinks. The door swings open.

The cold night air rushes past us. We’re outside. We step through the threshold and stand before a large black gate. It’s dark tonight, and there’s barely any moonlight. I can only see shadows. The door closes itself and locks. Bronson moves toward the gate. Motion lights flicker on. My eyes are adjusting as I follow him.

He walks over to a black panel that’s set into a stone wall beside the gate. He gives me one long look. I give him a nod. He presses his thumb against the panel and the gate swings open.

I give a low whistle. “Technology these days.”

“You have no idea.”

He tugs me into a dark alley as the gate closes behind us. Bright floodlights turn on above our heads, the alley fills with yellow light. I look around. We’re in a small outdoor enclosure. There’s another black gate before us. An identical black panel is set in the stone wall.

He lifts his hand to press his thumb to the panel. He stops.

“Wait.” He’s turning toward me, desperation in his eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I have to do one thing. In case I take you in here and we find my instincts are terribly off and this isn’t for you.”

“What do you have to do?” I ask.

“This.” His hands go to either side of my face. His palms cup my cheeks. His fingertips tangle in my hair. He leans down, his breath warm against my skin.

My eyes close.

His mouth presses against mine.

Tiny currents dance over my lips as they caress his. He tastes of rosemary and thyme and man. My hands go to his waist. It feels hard and muscular through his shirt. His hands slide behind my head. Tingles travel down my neck, tiny little hairs standing on end. Our bodies press together. My breasts against his chest. Our thighs meeting one another.

I’m lost. Floating. My mind’s gone blank. I’m nothing but the feel of the kiss.

He pulls away too soon.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he whispers, “I had to do that. Once.”

“Do it again,” I murmur. My hands run through his dark hair. I’m surprised by the texture—it’s as soft as silk. I pull his face to mine, kissing him again. My lips open, the tip of my tongue running over his.

“Don’t start something you don’t want to finish.” His threat is a low growl.

A delicious shiver runs down my spine. “I never have before.”

I feel his cock hardening, pressing into my hip. My pussy clenches, soaking my panties.

I have wanted him since the day I met him.

And now I am going to have him. An animal-like desire unleashes within me.

I am going to fuck him.

Right here in this dark alleyway. I press myself harder against his cock. He groans.