Page 21 of Roulette Rodeo
"And storage closets are off-limits to everyone without proper authorization." He shifted, and suddenly he was scooping me up like I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest while my traitorous body melted into his warmth. "Yet you don't see me complaining about the company."
I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest while trying to ignore how his scent intensified with proximity. Trying to ignore the wetness between my thighs that had nothing to do with workout sweat and everything to do with the way he'd kissed me. The way I'd kissed him back.
My first kiss.
The thought hit me like a shot of Everclear—burning and disorienting.
Twenty-four years old, and I'd just had my first real kiss in a storage closet with a complete stranger who smelled like home and danger had a baby.
The unfairness of it made me huff louder, and I realized I was pouting when his smirk widened.
"Why is my sweet omega glaring at me?" His voice was whiskey-smooth, amused in a way that made me want to hit him again.
"I'm not your anything," I shot back, then pointed accusingly at his chest. "And you took my first kiss, so what are you going to do to compensate for such infiltration?"
One eyebrow arched—perfectly controlled, military precision in facial expressions.
"Your first kiss?"
The way he said it, carefully neutral, made me defensive.
"How old are you?" I demanded, deflecting.
"How old areyou?" he countered.
I could feel my face heating.
"Twenty-four," I mumbled, then louder: "And I'm not old to not have kissed anyone. I just have standards!"
"I wasn't judging." His tone was still neutral, but there was something underneath—curiosity, maybe. Concern."But an omega your age, never been kissed? That's..."
"What?" I challenged, my chin lifting despite my compromised position.
"Unusual. Protected." His eyes swept over me, cataloging details like a sniper checking for threats. "You're making it seem like you've never fucked before."
The words were crude, deliberate, testing. My glare intensified, and I could feel my pout deepening, lower lip pushing out in a way that Nick had always said made me look like a child.
But this alpha's eyes tracked the movement with heat that was anything but paternal.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with implications.
"You're a virgin." Not a question. A statement, delivered with the same certainty he'd probably used to call in airstrikes.
I huffed, looking him up and down—all six-foot-four of tactical muscle and barely contained alpha dominance.
"For now, yes."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and I watched his pupils dilate, his chest rumble with a sound that was part growl, part purr.
He opened his mouth—to say what, I'd never know, because the storage door rattled violently.
We both froze.
His arms tightened around me instinctively, and I could feel his entire body shift into combat mode—relaxed on the surface but coiled to strike underneath.
"Maybe she's hiding in here?" A voice from outside, slurred with alcohol and entitlement.
One of the alphas from the gym.
