How long has it been since I’ve been kissed?
Too long.
And never by someone like him.
Not a cop. Not a criminal. Just a man who operates in shadows and would notice if I flinched.
The pull between us arcs like static.
His gaze drops to my mouth, making it impossible to breathe.
He moves in just a little closer. I feel it before I see it—his body heat pressing into my space, his presence folding around me like a secret.
Gently he lifts one hand to cup my jaw. Then he brushes over my cheek like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
“Allie…”
With purposeful intent, Stryker kisses me.
His mouth slants over mine, warm and firm, and the contact is so startlingly intimate that I make a sound—half gasp, half surrender.
Not tentative. Not rushed. But sure and decisive.
Helpless, I curl my fingers into his massive biceps, seeking anchor, but it’s useless.
When he deepens his kiss, everything inside me short-circuits. My nipples harden, sending a rush of heat spiraling down through my belly.
Still kissing me, he slides his hand from my cheek to the base of my throat. His touch is featherlight against the hollow there, making me shiver.
Then he trails downward, impossibly slow, until his fingertips hover between my breasts. He doesn’t continue, doesn’t grope—he just lingers, like a promise, like a dare.
And I’m helpless. Lost in him.
I kiss him back like I’m starving. Like I’ve forgotten why I shouldn’t. Like I don’t care.
And then—the doorbell chimes, breaking the spell.
“Oh, Allie…” He brushes a fingertip across my lower lip.
Every part of me is desperate to grab him, hold on, pull him closer.
The doorbell chimes a second time.
“This isn’t finished between us.”
As he steps back, I blink, disoriented by the sudden distance.
My skin tingles in the places he touched me. My heart’s still racing like I barely survived something. And a longing I’ve never experienced before pangs through me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I close my eyes again, in silent prayer, thankful for the interruption.
If it hadn’t happened, there’s no saying how far I would have let things go.
With force, I remind myself I’m not here to make a connection. I can’t afford one. Especially not with a man like Stryker. He will burn my carefully constructed life to the ground—if I let him close enough to see the cracks.
Despite what he said, this is definitely over between us. He’s a risk I can’t afford to take, and more so than ever, I have to make my escape as quickly as possible.
