Page 42 of Hearts Storm

“Who?” He doesn’t even bother to look up as he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Oh, the hot blonde? Think her and Dave went downstairs.”

“Don’t call her that.” I flinch, mentally slapping myself when my words come out way more growly than I mean them to.

Of course, that’s what snags his attention. Popping another kernel in his mouth, Alan smirks, “Call her what? Hot?”

“Yes,” I grunt.

He cocks his head at me. “Why? You hitting that? Cause if not, I⁠—”

“No, you asshole. And don’t you even think about trying,” I warn.

Alan’s loud guffaw of laughter chases after me as I stomp away. If any of these guys even think about trying to get their hands on Pretty, they’ll have me to deal with. Not to mention Logan, who would eviscerate them where they stand.

I check the bunk rooms next, but they’re empty.

Where the hell did she go?

I’m about to head over to check the bay when Dave rounds the corner, clipboard tucked under his arm.

“Hey. You seen Reyna?”

Stopping short, he looks up at me in surprise. The guy is average in height, and I tower over him. Every now and then I’ve caught him staring at me. I think he might have a crush.

“Um,” he gulps. “I just dropped her off at her room. Said she wanted to get settled before orientation.”

“Her room?”

“Yeah. The single across from the main bunk.” He cocks his head, studying me with a keen eye. “Captain set it up special for her. You know, since she’s the only female on her shift.”

Of course, Logan set her up in her own room.

Murmuring a quick “Thanks, man,” I head back down the hall.

The door to her room is open. Leaning against the frame, I cross my arms over my chest and take her in.

She’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the mountains. Morning light catches on a single white-blond strand that’s escaped her bun, turning it almost silver. When she shifts, tucking the loose piece behind her ear, it makes my dick do something stupid.

Her dark jeans are practically painted on, accentuating her firm thighs and an ass I’ve had the distinct pleasure of having my hands on. The standard-issue LFSR black T-shirt hugs her torso as if it were custom-made just for her, clinging to every curve, every dip, tight enough that I can just make out the subtle outline of her sports bra.

Then my traitorous bastard of a brain flashes back to our encounter in Portland. Reyna on her knees, lips swollen and glistening, looking up at me as my cock disappeared into her hot mouth. How she cried for me.

My dick goes from zero to one hundred in about half a second, painfully straining against my zipper.

Reaching down, I adjust myself, clearing my throat. “Hey, Pretty.”

Whipping around, hand flying to her chest, her wide blue eyes lock onto me.

“Shit,” she gasps. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.” Keeping my arms crossed in what I hope is a casual pose and not a desperate attempt to hide the fact that my cock is currently trying to punch through my jeans, I grin. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

For a fraction of a second she takes me in, gaze flicking over my body before snapping back up to my face. But it’s not quick enough. I see the recognition in her eyes.

The way her throat bobs on a swallow, she knows exactly what she does to me.

“You can come in, you know,” she says, voice steadier than it was a second ago.

I push off the door and step inside, closing the door behind me with a soft click. The room feels smaller with both of us in it. Or maybe it’s just the chemistry between us making the air feel thick.