Page 10 of Stripe for the Picking
As he studied her—the way she absently adjusted her hair while concentrating, the curious gleam in her eyes as she explored the system architecture, and the confident set of her shoulders—his tiger rumbled with deep satisfaction.
Control. Maintain control.
But the pull was undeniable, growing stronger with each passing moment. Professional distance felt increasingly impossible when every fiber of his being recognized her as his.
"I should show you to your apartment now," he said, his voice husky. "We can check back later to see if your patch held."
They walked through the corridors of Defense Nexus toward the residential sector, maintaining careful distance that did nothing to diminish the electric awareness crackling between them. Her apartment was on the west end of the sector—closeenough to his own apartment that his tiger roared approval but far enough to maintain the illusion of propriety.
As they moved through the halls, Rylan's mind raced with calculations. Her presence was vital—not just for the cyber threats, but for the Protocol Trials next week. Her quick thinking and courage could tip the balance in his favor, finally earning him the promotion and recognition he'd worked toward for years.
She's changed everything,he admitted silently.And I have no idea how to handle what that means.
FIVE
WREN
The corridors of Defense Nexus stretched before them like arteries of polished metal and glass. Their footsteps created an odd rhythm as Rylan led Wren to her new apartment on the military base—his confident stride in combat boots and her lighter steps in sandals. Wren clutched her suitcase handle tighter, hyperaware of the careful distance Rylan maintained between them. Yet that distance did nothing to diminish the electric current that seemed to arc between their bodies whenever he moved too close.
What the hell is happening?
Her advanced mind cataloged every detail of their walk while her body hummed with unfamiliar energy. The fitted black t-shirt that showcased his broad shoulders and defined chest. The way his tactical pants emphasized the powerful muscles of his thighs. How his perfectly styled dark blonde hair caught the sunlight streaming through the glass windows. Even his military bearing radiated authority and barely leashed strength.
He's definitely a Greek god who somehow ended up commanding alien cybersecurity and global security systems.
"Your apartment is just ahead," Rylan said, his deep voice carrying that same rough edge she'd noticed during theirhandshake. "It's close enough to mine that you can come to me if you need anything. Anytime."
The way he emphasized 'anytime' sent heat spiraling through her body. Professional courtesy, she told herself. Nothing more.
But her treacherous mind replayed their introduction on endless repeat. Less than an hour ago, Gerri had walked her into Defense Nexus like she owned the place. Then Rylan had turned around, and Wren's world had tilted sideways.
The man belonged on magazine covers, not buried in military command centers. All sharp jawlines and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through her. When their hands had touched during that innocent handshake, every nerve ending in her body had exploded like Fourth of July fireworks.
I've never felt anything like that before. Ever.
The recognition had been instant and overwhelming—like her soul had suddenly remembered something her mind had never known. Which made absolutely no sense because she'd never met him before. She was certain she'd remember a man who looked like sin wrapped in a uniform.
"Here we are." Rylan stopped beside a sleek door marked with holographic numbers. "I'll check back in an hour after you've had time to freshen up. Then we'll grab lunch before returning to see if your countermeasure patch held."
The practical words should have felt routine. Instead, they sent anticipation skittering along her spine.
"Sounds perfect." She fumbled with the door mechanism, suddenly clumsy under his intense gaze.
As Rylan turned to leave, her body immediately protested his absence. The loss hit her surprisingly hard—this overwhelming sense that he belonged beside her, not walking away down some sterile corridor.
What is wrong with you? You just met him.
But watching him move with predatory grace, those powerful shoulders and narrow waist creating a perfect V that made her mouth water, she couldn't deny the magnetic pull. Every guy she'd ever dated—the professors, the tech executives, the supposed intellectuals—none of them had made her feel simultaneously calm and electrified.
Like a moth to a flame.The comparison should have worried her more than it did.
Wren slipped inside her apartment and immediately stopped in surprise. The space stretched far larger than she'd expected for military housing—a cozy living area flowed into a dining nook and compact kitchen, while a doorway revealed glimpses of an unexpectedly spacious bedroom.
"This is bigger than my place in Vermont," she murmured, setting down her luggage. "I could definitely get used to this."
The thought struck her as odd. She'd been here exactly two hours total yet already felt more settled than she had in years of Earth-bound routine. Moving through the apartment, she unpacked her suitcase with methodical efficiency, hanging clothes in the surprisingly generous closet and filling the dresser drawers.
Something about the gesture—arranging her belongings in alien furniture—felt less like temporary accommodation and more like moving in. Which should have concerned her but instead filled her with unexpected warmth.
