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But even to me that sounded like utter bullshit. I wanted to get to know Ciara because better to learn what her likes and dislikes were and what made her tick.
She was clearly very loved by Brynn and her alphas because as soon as they’d left my phone had buzzed with a message from Nash telling me to behave myself. It made me want to know more about her than even they knew, to strip away all of the bravado and see who she was really.
But unfortunately, it didn’t seem like I was ever going to get that chance. I was pretty sure that Ciara wasn’t actually going to the bathroom and that she’d fled the scene entirely.
“Curse my hopeless romantic genetics.” I downed the rest of what was left in my glass, my glum mood taking over completely.
I’d always worn my heart on my sleeve, a trait I inherited from my mother. She’d taken one look at my dad when she was on a trip to Korea and had decided that he was it for her.
Almost thirty years later and they were still as in love as they’d been on day one—even if it had taken mom showing up to the place where my dad worked for an entire summer.
Pressing a finger to my lips, I tried to remember the tingling sensation from the earlier kiss we shared as I started to come to terms with the fact that I’d probably be going back to my room alone.
Then I saw her out of the corner of my eye hurrying through the crowd back toward our booth. Her face looked odd, like she was feeling far too much and it resulted in a furrowed brow and a deep grimace as our eyes met. Then her features smoothed out and I blinked, trying to figure out if I’d imagined the storm cloud expression.
“Hey,” I said, frowning as she pulled to a stop and put one knee on the edge of the booth. “You left pretty abruptly so I was worr—”
She cut me off, grabbing the edges of my jacket and dragging me across the leather seat to her until our lips met again.
The kiss earlier had been slow and languid, like we were curiously exploring each other and the clear attraction we felt between the two of us.
But this?
This was electric and desperate. It felt like she wanted to swallow me whole, and every alpha instinct I had inside of me was ready to oblige.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asked, her lips still ghosting over mine.
Her brown eyes looked different than earlier, like all of the confidence that seemed to ooze out of them was gone now replaced by someone who was as vulnerable as a livewire.
“Sure.” The urge to comfort and protect her kicked in as I stared at her, my thumb brushing a line down her cheek. “Let’s go.”
Tugging me from the booth, Ciara made a beeline for the backdoor of the club.
“Where are we going? Your room?” I asked as we stepped out into the chilly night air, dodging the people who filled the sidewalk. A wash of different languages and accents met my ears and it was almost overwhelming as I let Ciara pull me through the streets.
“Not mine unless you’re okay with my stepsister hearing everything I’m about to do to you,” she threw over her shoulder, all of her earlier anxiety seemingly gone as she shot me a cheeky smile.
I wanted to ask her what that had been about, but I’d gotten myself into trouble already this evening and I wasn’t about to do it again.
“I don’t have a roommate,” I told her as I pulled us to a stop, keeping her hand firmly in mine as I raised the other to signal an oncoming black taxi.
Fifteen minutes later and I was holding my keycard against the door. Ciara’s hands were already sliding up the back of my shirt as I led the way into my room.
All of the athlete’s rooms in the village were pretty bare bones, and mine was the same aside from the little knickknacks and things I usually brought with me when I traveled.
The Team USA hockey player that was supposed to share with me had never shown up, so I had the room all to myself and had pushed the two twin beds together to create a full sized one to accommodate my longer frame.
How they expected athletes to sleep in such narrow beds was beyond me, but I was pretty sure it was the UK’s way of exhausting us so we weren’t rested for our own events.
“Shirt off,” Ciara demanded as she kicked the door shut behind us, her hands pushing up under the shoulders of my jacket to push it off.
I obliged, my mind hazy with the beers I’d drunk and the cloying smell of her scent in my nose.
Without all of the other scents that had been in the club, her cinnamon scent was mouthwatering. It was like I’d just walked into a damn Cinnabon and dunked myself in a vat of the stuff. But Cinnabon didn’t give me a hard-on like Ciara did—and thank gods for that or else I’d probably have been arrested for public indecency a long time ago.
“You smell amazing,” I groaned, never one to keep my thoughts to myself.
Ciara’s eyes lifted to mine and her grin widened. “You do too, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who smells like you before.”
