Page 7 of Rough & Ruthless

Stryker rests his forehead gently against mine, his chest rising and falling with every breath. "Are you sure you're ready for that answer?"

All my unresolved questions about the MC and the smuggling fade away, until there’s just us, just this moment. I part my lips slightly, and brush my nose against his. Stryker groans and leans in, closing the distance between us.

I gasp at the hunger behind his kiss, his tongue seeking entrance immediately. I have no idea what I’m doing, but Stryker takes the lead, swirling his tongue with mine and tickling the roof of my mouth. His hands tighten around me, one gripping my thigh while the other slides up my back and tangles in my hair.

Stryker angles my head so he can kiss me harder, deeper, like he can’t get enough. A needy ache blooms between my thighs, and a whimper slips from my mouth, a plea for more of what he has to offer.

Finally, I have to break our kiss to fill my lungs with air. Stryker rubs his nose and chin down my neck, pausing to nip at the sensitive spot below my ear. His warm tongue follows, licking away the sting before he kisses the same spot. I’ve never been so wanted or felt so important, like his next breath depends on more of my kisses.

When our lips meet again, he’s softer this time, more tender. His tongue glides along mine, consuming me in long, languid strokes of his tongue. Stryker is showing me he can be gentle, too. He’ll be everything I need.

We both pull away, though Stryker keeps me close with a hand massaging the back of my neck. “Does that answer your question?” he whispers, still catching his breath from our life-altering kiss.

“Not really,” I tease. “But please feel free to explain it to me again.”

Stryker’s eyes sparkle, just a hint of light peeking through. Just enough to confirm my suspicion that he’s both dark and light. Like we all are.

He presses his lips to mine in a quick kiss, then he kisses my temple, resting his head there. “Thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for how the morning started, but I’m not sorry about how it ended.”

I grin and tilt my head up, unable to hide the stupid-happy smile spreading across my face. “Is this real?” I ask.

“The realest thing I’ve ever experienced, my little sunflower.”

I’m just as shocked as he is about the pet name he gave me. “Sunflower?” I prod, a smirk curling up one side of my mouth.

“It fits. Bright, sunny, strong, resilient. All things you embody.”

“Me?” I wasn’t expecting that answer.

“You,” he confirms. “You’ve… you’ve completely undone me, Soraya. There’s no other way to explain it. It’s fast, I know, and we’ll take things as slow as you want. As long as you know–”

Stryker is cut off by someone shouting for the President. I wonder who that is. To my shock, Stryker sighs heavily and says, “Duty calls.”

“Wait. Hold on. You’re the President? Is that like… a big deal? It sounds like a big deal.”

He chuckles and begins to untangle himself from me. “It just means I’m responsible for this pack of wild animals,” he says wryly. I know there’s more to it than that, but I’ll just have to add that to the stack of questions piling up in my brain.

Stryker gives me one last peck, then heads out of his apartment. There’s something so domestic about it, like he’s off to work and kissing me goodbye for the day while I clean up after a shared breakfast.

Later that afternoon, after a nap and finding some more appropriate clothes, I decide to continue my exploration of the clubhouse. The bar area is quiet, which is a welcome change from the last time I was in here. Dim amber lighting casts long shadows across the wooden floor, and I hear the soft clink of glass. The sharp smell of citrus polish mixes with the heavy, lingering scent of draft beer. A classic rock song plays low from a glowing jukebox in the corner.

As I step up to the chipped bartop, the bartender turns around. She’s an older, tough-looking woman with thick, gray dreadlocks. A full sleeve of colorful tattoos catches my eye, and I follow the designs down to her wrists, which have about a dozen woven bracelets and charms. Her sharp, calculating eyes lock onto me instantly.

"Well, look who finally came up for air," she says with a knowing smirk. "Spending the whole morning locked away with the President. That must be exhausting."

Heat rushes straight to my cheeks, and I blush intensely under her gaze. My mind flashes right back to the deep, intimate kiss Stryker and I shared on the couch just a few hours ago.

The bartender watches my reaction. Her tough exterior drops completely. Her sharp eyes soften into something warm and almost maternal. She introduces herself as Cierra and slides a cold glass of water across the polished wood.

“Thank you," I whisper, taking a slow sip of the cold water. The quiet atmosphere of the empty bar makes it surprisingly easy to breathe.

Cierra leans against the polished wood bartop. She watches me with those sharp, calculating eyes. "You’re a long way from home, aren’t you? Port Royal doesn’t usually attract bright girls like you unless they’re running from something."

"I’m not running," I say softly. "I just needed a fresh start."

"Where did you start from?"

"Denver." I trace the condensation dripping down the side of my glass. "A dilapidated trailer park just outside the city. It wasn’t exactly a place you’d want to stay forever, you know?” Cierra nods, but doesn’t say anything. “It was… chaotic. My parents fought constantly, mostly with each other, but sometimes with me. It got really bad and…” I realize I’ve overshared to a stranger who is probably just trying to make small talk. “Anyway. I’m not on the run, I’m just… I guess I’m trying to find out who I am away from all of that.”