Read Fearless for Free Online Page A

experience what he has to offer.
    His arm around my waist steadies me as we walk to his car, and I quietly nod when he asks if I want to go to his place. In the early days after my divorce when I tried dating, I always insisted on meeting my dates at a public location and I never, ever went back to their apartment, afraid I would end up a statistic in the morning newspaper. But I have no reservations about Beckett. Of course he’s technically not a stranger; I know where he works after all, but more importantly, I feel safe when I’m with him.
    He pulls into a covered parking space in a refurbished brick warehouse and we take the elevator to his penthouse apartment. His loft is, quite simply, amazing, with one entire wall made up of windows that gives a panoramic view of the whole city twinkling outside.
    â€œWould you like a glass of wine?” he asks.
    â€œOkay,” I say, suddenly nervous. I watch as he goes into the kitchen, uncorks a bottle of wine, and pours two glasses. Desire is spreading through me like wildfire. He hands me the wine glass.
    â€œYour place is amazing,” I say. I don’t add that I had expected his apartment to be more austere, more like him, all clean lines and functionality. Instead, it’s warm and inviting yet masculine, with polished hardwood floors, exposed wood beams, muted rugs, a soft leather sofa, and the occasional pop of color from a few simple pieces of well-chosen art.
    â€œIt’s home,” he says with a shrug.
    He’s looking at me as if he’s stripping me bare and I can feel my confidence slip. I wanted this, I do want this, but the reality of being with him and what we are about to do is much more intimidating now that it’s about to happen.
    â€œSo,” I say, grasping for something, anything, to say to slow where this is undoubtedly heading. “You said you have two brothers. Are you the oldest, middle or youngest?”
    â€œOldest,” he says, not taking his eyes off of me.
    â€œFigures,” I say, flippantly. “First children are always bossy, authoritative, and controlling.”
    â€œAnd you?” he asks. His voice has gotten lower, and that sexy rasp is unleashing butterflies in my stomach.
    â€œYoungest,” I say. “I have two older brothers.”
    â€œFigures,” he counters evenly. “Youngest children are always rebellious, manipulative, and carefree.”
    I laugh. “Okay, I deserved that. I may have been carefree when I was younger, but I’m not anymore. Just ask my ex. He’d confirm that I’m definitely uptight.”
    His lips tighten.
    â€œCome here,” he says softly, holding out his hand. I grab it like it’s a lifeline and he pulls me to his side.
    With our fingers laced together, he pulls me down a hallway on the opposite side of the open kitchen and living area. We pass several darkened bedrooms and I think a bathroom before we reach the room at the end of the hall. It’s obviously his bedroom, but it’s definitely not what I expected. For one thing it’s enormous, with a downright sinfully luxurious four poster bed that dominates the room and is covered with a black satin comforter and an assortment of pillows in different shapes and sizes. There’s a fireplace on the wall opposite the bed, and like the living room, there are exposed beams in the ceiling and another entire wall was made up of windows. A sliding glass door leads out to a small balcony, and the entire room is dimly lit by iron sconces on the wall. It looks like a bedroom made for sin. I take a deep breath to bolster my courage.
    Beckett crosses over to the windows and closes the blinds, enveloping us in the warm privacy of his sumptuous bedroom. With smoldering eyes, he closes the distance between us. He leans in, holding me still with his hands on either side of my head, and gently touches his lips to mine. They are softer than I had expected and taste faintly of wine.