Page 23 of Roulette Rodeo
He shrugged, but his eyes held promise.
"Then I'll have to find you."
I laughed, soft and challenging.
"Good luck with that. But I'd like to see you try, Daddy Alpha."
The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to swallow them back.
But the way his entire body went still, the way his eyes darkened to forest at midnight, the way his nostrils flared as my scent spiked with arousal?—
I unconsciously licked my bottom lip.
"All I need is your name," he said, voice gone rough. "That's it."
Then he was gone, moving through the door with silent efficiency, leaving me alone with the echo of his scent and the memory of his mouth on mine.
Did I have a daddy kink?
The thought was mortifying. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to focus through the haze of pheromones and terrible decisions.
Of all the things to discover about myself in a storage closet...
But Briar was looking for me.
I needed to go, needed to find her before she worried herself into doing something drastic.
The last thing I needed was her drawing more attention to my absence.
But I wanted to leave something. Wanted this alpha—this scent match who'd kissed me like I was air and he'd been drowning—to know who I was.
Maybe deep down I wanted him to search for me. To be found for once, instead of always hiding.
I looked around the storage closet desperately. Industrial shelving full of cleaning supplies, a mop bucket that had seen better days, and—there. A pad of sticky notes on a clipboard hanging from a nail.
I grabbed the pen attached, scribbling quickly: "My name is?—"
The ink ran out mid-word.
"Oh, come on!" I shook the pen violently, tried scribbling on my hand, even licked the tip like that would somehow magically restore ink flow.
Nothing.
I groaned, staring at the partial message.
This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.
Ishould just leave, forget this ever happened, go back to my velvet prison and pretend I hadn't just discovered what kissing was supposed to feel like.
But then another idea struck me.
I looked down at myself—sports bra, workout shorts, athletic shoes.
Then at the sticky note.
Then back at my outfit.
A smirk spread across my face.
