Page 18 of Roulette Rodeo
Five-six had been generous—maybe five-five without the athletic shoes. But she fit against my body like she'd been designed for it, her soft curves filling all the hard angles years of combat had carved into me. Her nose pressed into my shirt, right over my heart, and I could feel her inhaling desperately, like she was trying to burrow inside my scent.
My cock strained against my cargo pants, hard enough to hurt.
The tactical fabric that could stop a knife was doing nothing to hide my reaction to her.
Her scent intensified in the enclosed space, and I realized with a jolt of pure lust that she was drenched in sweat. It should have been off-putting—I'd never been attracted to gym sweat before. But on her, it only amplified everything. The cherry sweetness, the spiced honey, the wood smoke. It was like she'd been distilled down to her essence, and that essence was everything I'd never known I needed.
Deep auburn hair, wet with exertion, clung to her face and neck. The color was unusual—not quite red, not quite brown, but an in between concoction of beauty that caught light like burnished copper.
It was long, falling past her shoulders in waves that the sweat had turned into loose curls.
Against my body, I could feel every curve. Hourglass figure was clinical; this was poetry. Soft breasts pressed against my abdomen—and fuck, her nipples were hard, two points of heat through the sports bra that made me want to growl. Her hips flared from a narrow waist,and her ass...
I forced myself to stop that inventory before I did something stupid.
But then she looked up at me, and stupid became inevitable.
Garnet brown eyes with gold flecks.
Not brown like mud or chocolate or any of the usual comparisons.
Brown like expensive whiskey held up to firelight, with pieces of gold floating in the depths like treasure waiting to be discovered.
Those eyes widened as they met mine, and I forgot how to breathe.
Wide eyes.
Flushed cheeks that went from pink to crimson as she stared.
Hair plastered to her face in ways that should have been messy but instead looked like she'd just been thoroughly?—
Her lips parted. Plump, unpainted, slightly chapped from breathing hard.
I was supposed to say something.
Introduce myself. Ask if she was okay.
Do literally anything except what I did…
I kissed her.
Not kissed—claimed would be the better word for what my body was doing in real time while it felt like the world slowed entirely for this pure lustful moment.My mouth crashed into hers with all the finesse of a breaching charge, desperate and demanding and absolutely inappropriate for a first meeting.
I expected her to push me away.Slap me. Knee me in the balls like any self-respecting omega should when a strange alpha attacked them in a closet.
Instead, she moaned.
Fuck…
The sound shot straight to my cock, and seventeen years of tactical discipline evaporated.
I spun us, slamming her back against the wall—gently, as gently as I possibly could with such a beautiful fragile being—and she gasped into my mouth. The gasp became another moan as I deepened the kiss, and suddenly she was kissing me back with enthusiasm that made up for any lack of experience.
Because she was inexperienced.
I could tell in the way she moved her lips, the slight hesitation before her tongue met mine, the way she seemed surprised by her own responses. It wasn't virginal, exactly, but it was...limited. Like she'd been kissed before but never kissedwell.
The alpha in me roared with satisfaction.
