Page 20 of The Four Leaf

I try to nod, swallowing around the lump lodged in my throat. He gives me a soft smile, and I realize what he wants. “Yes, I am.”

He takes a small step closer, forcing me to lift my chin to keep our gazes connected. “I need you to know something, Bambi. I’ve waited a long time for this. I won’t be sweet, soft, or anything remotely close to gentle. This will be years of pent-up desire, unleashed in a way that will leave you a fuckingmess. Are you sure this is what you want?”

His admission stops my breath. It slows time and splits my heart in two. Everything aches and feels so terribly good at the same time, my body can barely form the necessary speech to tell him how badly I’ve wanted him to say that, how long I’ve waited to hear it.

Somehow, I push it out. It’s an almost inaudible whisper, but my conviction is impossible to miss. “Yes.”

A delicious smirk stretches across his face, lighting up my insides all over again. He presses a soft kiss on my nose. “Good. Are you ready to play your game of tag?”

“We don’t have to if you…” I trail off, with the knowledge of everything wedging in between us, making me realize the important questions I had before have already been answered.

“Oh no, Bambi. We’re playing this game. And it won’t be the only one.”

My pussy clenches around nothing, and the low-bearing ache starts up all over again. Why am I so turned on by the thought of him chasing me? And not only that, but the need to have a word to keep me safe?

All our lives, I’ve only ever known Adrian to be a gentle giant. He’s big, brawny, and scary as hell, with a sharp jaw and hooded eyes. On the field, he’s even worse–a total savage, really. But with me, he’s simply Adrian. Expert foot massager, wonderful at picking random monster movies that actually end up being good, and popcorn throw-it-across-the-couch-and-into-your-mouth extraordinaire. He’s kind, compassionate, and refuses to use single-use plastics.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m tired of slow and sweet. I want something to take my breath away. I want him to devour me whole and leave me curled up like a dead little spider. But to picture him as anything other than what I’ve known is impossible.

Still, I’m dying to find out. “Uncle.”

His brows snap together. “What?”

A vicious blush takes over my face. “The, um, safeword. If it’s dumb–”

“No.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, making me melt. “It’s perfect.”

Something about him approving my word choice makes my heart flutter. Like I’ve read his mind and plucked it from his head. I like that.

“Be safe, Sam. Don’t trip and fall, or run into anyone. Don’t be so caught up looking for me that you aren’t paying attention.” He drops my hand as he gives me the pregame speech, as if this was his idea. “The point is to have fun, and not get hurt. Not until I find you, at least.”

My nerves prickle. “You plan to hurt me.”

He nods once. “In the best ways. And not more than you can handle.”

A tremor runs through my spine at his promise. At the possibilities of what he could mean. “Okay.”

“I’ll count to thirty, Bambi. Then I’m coming for you.”

The nighttime crowd is much thicker than I anticipated. Hues of bright colors mix as I make a pitiful attempt to maneuver around them on the congested sidewalk.

The parade is in full effect. Rows of men in kilts blowing into heavy bagpipes move down the center of the road. They’re led by a red-haired leprechaun wielding a staff of sorts in one hand and a water gun in the other. He’s dancing around in front of them, hyping the spectators up while women twirl around him, tossing out beads and glowing necklaces.

I squeeze inside the group, my thirty-second head start now a mere ten as I push through. The noise of the crowd grows louder, shrieks of sheer giddiness filling the air. Suddenly, a cluster of people right in front of me part, avoiding a woman who’s getting doused in some type of glowing paint shooting out of the leprechaun’s squirt gun.

Three. I veer to the right, then circle the people behind her.

Two. Just a few more feet and I can turn down the alley.

One. My heart flutters.

He’s coming.

With a few hushed “excuse mes” andanother round of narrowly missed paint, I make it to the alley. It’s a free shot to the woods, which backs into the entire strip of businesses. My feet pick up pace, adrenaline whooshing through my system, giving me the false confidence I’ll actually make it.

I only move about five yards.

A smaller back street opens up behind the tire shop I passed, and Adrian must have been waiting. He careens out of the dark and barrels into me, catching me around the waist and nearly throwing me against the wall of the business.

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