“Your safe words still apply. Red to stop, yellow to slow. Say them if you need to. I will honor them no matter what.”
The reassurance is what I need, and heat begins to build inside me.
He gives a single nod—sharp, deliberate, a gesture that etches itself into my memory, a silent vow of his control, his encouragement. “Thank you.”
His words stun me. I don’t know what I expected, but that wasn’t it.
“Stay where you are for me.”
With that, he heads down the hall to the security room and returns with a duffel that he places on the coffee table.
My tummy lurches as anticipation and desire twist together.
Stryker doesn’t speak. Instead, he walks to the center of the room and stands standing on the thick rug by the fire and beckons me. “I want you to kneel for me, Allie.”
The fake name jars me.
Allie.
Here he is, asking for trust, and I haven’t even told him my real name.
Just once, I’d like to hear him utter it. Lyra. Not my alias.
“Allie?” He draws his eyebrows together. “Everything okay?”
He’s not demanding, just curious, and his tone says I can take as long as I want. His patience won’t run out. “I… Yes.”
After removing his shoes and socks, he lowers himself to his knees.
Maybe because he took the first step, I find the courage I need, and I remove my own shoes and socks.
When he offers a hand to steady me on the way down, I accept.
The rug is plush beneath me, and we’re facing each other, our knees scant inches from touching.
His eyes never leave mine. He gives a slight smile, one that says I’ve got you.
He opens his hands on his thighs, fingers relaxed.
Drawing a steadying breath, I copy him.
Then the silence stretches, thick and deliberate, and as a minute or two passes, my pulse slows to match the rhythm of his breathing.
“You’re doing great.”
Then his fingers brush the hem of his shirt.
When I don’t respond, he lifts an eyebrow.
Jolted, I mimic him.
“That’s it.” Then, inch by inch, he drags the fabric up, over his abs and chest. When it’s off, he places it on the floor.
The firelight dances, casting him in tantalizing shadows. He lets me look—really look—before his gaze drops to my shirt. “Your turn, Allie.”
I lift my shirt just as he did.
The cool air rushes over my breasts, making my nipples tighten.
