My Alpha Stepbrother Called Me a Gold Digger, So I Bought His Father's Note novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: The Scale Shed

I turned the lights out at nine and left the door unlocked.

Ridley Siding sat dark under a sky full of stars, the bin a pale tower behind the scale house and the weigh-bed gone silent after the last truck.

I stood at the desk in the black and listened for gravel.

His headlights swung across the window.

The Silverado stopped on the apron, the engine cut, and a door shut.

Boots came up the step.

He walked in without knocking and stopped just inside the door.

"Lock it," I said.

He locked it.

"Come here."

He crossed the dark room.

I smelled him before he reached me, snow and dust and the dark thing underneath, stronger now and no longer held back.

He stopped in front of me, close, not touching.

I could feel his heat on my skin.

"Terms," I said.

"All right," he said.

"You don't put a hand on me unless I put it there.

"Not once."

"Yes."

"You don't bite me.

"Not my neck, not anywhere."

His breath caught.

"Yes," he said.

"And nobody knows.

"Not your father, not my mother, not Kjell Sundby, not the pack."

He was quiet a moment.

"Why?" he said.

"Because I don't owe anybody an explanation for what I do in my own scale house," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Say it right."

"Yes, Kari."

My name in that low, wrecked voice sent a shiver through me, and I smiled in the dark.

I took his wrist and put his hand flat on the desk edge beside me.

I put his other hand on the wood on my other side.

I leaned back, with his arms on either side of me and his body bracketing mine.

"Stay there," I said.

I tugged his coat off his shoulders, and it fell.

I pulled his shirt up, and he lifted his arms so I could drag it over his head.

In the starlight from the window I looked at him for the first time.

He had a wide chest with pale hair, an old scar across his ribs from fence wire, and a long ridge of muscle down his stomach.

I put my palm over his heart.

It was going so hard I could feel it in my wrist.

"You're beautiful," I said.

He made a rough sound in his throat.

"I'm not," he said.

"I'm the scale," I said.

"I'd know."

His mouth twitched, and then his forehead came down against mine.

I kissed him.

It wasn't a fight this time.

It was slow and deep and wet, and his hands stayed on the desk, and I felt the muscles in his arms jump with the effort.

I pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra and let it fall.

He looked at my breasts, and his eyes closed.

"Kari," he said, ragged.

I put my hand on the back of his neck.

"Touch me with your mouth," I said.

He bent.

He took my nipple between his lips, hot and slow, with his hands still gripping the desk.

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