Page 19 of Within Striking Distance
I should be nervous, but the moment my hand slides into his, a sense of peace washes over me. It’s weird, I know. But I almost feel like all the bad things that have happened to me have led me to this moment, with this man, in this place.
“What am I supposed to call you?” I ask as he leads me through a white curtain, which takes us into a room I remember passing through last month—everything is white—but instead of moving towards the forest-green curtain that leads into the room where I danced with my friends, he leads me towards a bouncer standing guard beside a red curtain.
He hums in thought after the bouncer allows us to pass through. “You can call me striker.”
I snort. “I’m sure there’s a story there?”
“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.” He winks to let me know he’s joking, and I don’t push it any further.
He scans the card at a hidden wall panel with a blinking keypad, and the panel opens to reveal a hallway lined with numbered doors.
Soft music plays from hidden speakers, giving off a calm ambiance, but it does little to ease the swarm of butterflies in my stomach.
“Are you still okay with this?” he murmurs as we move down the hallway. “Say the word, and we leave.”
“I’m good,” I assure him. The way he keeps seeking consent is endearing, and he’s done nothing to warrant me walking away.
My body buzzes with anticipation when he comes to a stop outside room seventeen. The keypad is waiting, but he doesn’t make a move. He’s waiting for my consent.
“I mean it, pixie. Nothing will happen tonight unless you want it to.” His steel eyes portray nothing but sincerity.
A smile pulls at my lips. “So, what I’m hearing is that I’m in charge?”
He grins, passing me the room card before tilting my chin so he can brush a soft kiss over my lips. “You’re in charge.”
Ugh. That simple touch has me melting into him, and all rational thoughts escape me. “I’m in, striker.”
I swipe the card over the keypad and push the door open. He follows me inside, and we both take in the space as it clicks shut behind us.
A king size bed dominates the small and simple room from the middle, with a waterfall shower and a cupboard taking up one side wall, and more cupboards lining the other. There’s a small bar fridge and a plush leather couch that looks inviting. The sheets on the bed have a simple navy geometric pattern.
Striker’s confidence seems to have waned since entering;his eyes dart around the room, flicking between the bed and the couch. Mine isn’t much better, and my pulse pounds in my ears. I’m well out of practice with flirting, and being in this room has sent my brain into overdrive. But I promised Quinn I would step out of my comfort zone and dip my toe back into the dating pool.
Not that this is a date.
Oh, jeez, I really need to get out of my head and stop overthinking this.
Stepping in front of him, I run my hands over his muscular chest to hook them around his neck, tilting my head to look up at him. “Kiss me, striker.”
He doesn’t hesitate, tangling his hands in my hair as his lips crush against mine, teasing yet needy at the same time. His tongue swipes over the seam of my mouth, and I open for him, deepening the kiss. One of his strong hands runs a delicious trail over my spine, causing me to shiver, then it bands around my waist, pulling me close. My body melts into his, heating as the telltale sign of an impressive bulge presses into my stomach.
“You’re incredible, pixie,” he murmurs, kissing a trail along my jaw.
“Mm,” I hum, dropping my head back, giving him access to run his tongue over the column of my throat.
A blazing heat crawls along my skin where his lips linger, causing goosebumps to trail in their wake. My head swims as I breathe in his masculine scent, but it feels amazing. His kisses are intoxicating, drugging, and overwhelming in the best possible way.
“There’s a perfectly good bed right there,” I tease in a breathless whisper.
He groans, pressing his lips between the valley of my breasts.
“I’m trying really hard to behave myself.”
I laugh, gripping his chin and lifting his face until his molten gaze meets mine. “Eyes up here, striker.”
After pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, I pull him to sit on the couch next to me. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I repeat his words back to him, and he grins.
“Is that so, pixie?”
