Incentive (Infidelity Universe)

Halfway across, I stop and rest my forearms on the railing that overlooks the vacant kitchen and hearth room below. Where the hell is Reese? He wouldn’t have gone home without checking in with me.

Decker joins me, mimicking my pose, his gaze on the emerald green view beyond the windows.

The open kitchen sits at the back of the house, veneered by a three-story wall of glass that overlooks the pool and the marshy woodland beyond.

“That’s the back half of the five-hundred-acre property.” I squint against the sunlight spilling through the windows across from us. “There’s a forty-acre lake there.” I point at the clearing near the tree line. “Two other lakes sit on the north side. Aside from regular maintenance on the running trails, I’ve kept the land and its wildlife habitats untouched. Do you like to fish?”

“I’ve never tried. Never been out of the city.” He laughs, his mouth hanging open as he stares at me. “Do you fish?”

“When I have time. I spent my childhood out there.” I nod at the landscape. “Fishing, exploring, chasing rodents, playing in the dirt.” They were the best years of my life.

“You have sentimental ties to this place.” He studies me for several heartbeats before turning back to the windows. “How do you secure five-hundred acres?”

“An impenetrable fence around the perimeter, a state of the art security system, and the largest team of private security personnel in the business.” I peek at his rugged profile. “I don’t have a multi-million-dollar mansion, but I spend that much and more on personal protection.”

Something moves across his expression. Appreciation? Curiosity? I don’t know him well enough to interpret the flickers in his eyes.

“We passed a building just inside the front gate,” he says. “Do the guards live there?”

“Some of them. The others rotate on a schedule and sleep there when needed.”

“But you don’t feel safe.”

“Why would you assume—?”

“You carry a gun.” He tips his head back and directs his gaze at my lower back.

My heart stutters, and I straighten from my lean against the railing. Apparently, I suck at concealing the tiny handgun beneath my shirt.

“What are you afraid of?” he asks.

You. I swallow the thought. “I saw you talking to my security team on the plane, and Reese told me you had a conversation with Elijah last night. Did you uncover anything juicy?”

“Your head of security wasn’t very forthcoming.” He casts me a disapproving look. “I’m not interested in gossip, Laynee. Just trying to understand the inner workings of your world and all possible threats to it.”

“None of that is your concern. I hire people to protect—”

“Why do you restrain men?”

He’s like a hound on a scent, sniffing the air around me, drilling into my eyes, and rummaging through my unspoken answers. Men like him are drawn to women like me. He’s attuned to my secrets and senses they’re right here, around, against, and within me, clinging to me and calling to him so keenly he can’t ignore his instinct to chase. He’ll hunt until he obtains what he wants. Until I have nothing left for him to take.

I clench my hands on the railing and give him the response no dominant man wants to hear. “It pleases me to see a man in shackles.”

The cords in his forearms flex. “You like the control.”

“Yes.”

“Makes you feel less vulnerable.”

“That’s not—”

“You’re afraid of me.” He holds up a hand, stalling my protest. “Your pretty little neck stiffens every time you look at me. Your breaths are raspy, and you’re holding that railing in a death grip.”

Fuck. I release the banister and try to relax. It would be easier to be around him if he weren’t so brutally gorgeous. The seductive rumble in his voice, the ruthless vibes he puts off, and the fact that he’s twelve years younger and stronger are all reminders that he can and will overpower me.

Dressed in ratty jeans and a thin black t-shirt, he exudes a cocky bad-boy edge, one that darkens his flawless beauty. He isn’t some vain prissy model like the men I ask for. He’s the epitome of a man’s man, trained in combat sports and undoubtedly well-versed in pleasuring women.

His dark brown hair looks soft and clean yet somehow stands up in tousled rebellion that make me want to grip and pull. He might’ve looked younger than twenty-eight if it weren’t for his chiseled jawline and day-old stubble. His golden skin glows in the sunlight from the windows, and those sexy hooded eyes, fringed in thick lashes, promise things. Dirty, painful things. I imagine it doesn’t take much to bring out the innate animal lurking behind that gaze. I tremble at the thought and hate myself for craving it.

“I know you need time to open up.” He leans a hip against the spindles, facing me. “But I’m going to be inflexible, aggressive, and stubborn as hell about eradicating this fear you have of me.”