Page 84 of Surrender to Me
From a kitchen drawer, he grabs a deck of cards. “How about a friendly game of War?”
“War?” I frown. “Friendly? Do you know what that even means, Stryker? I’m betting you’re ultracompetitive.”
He grins. “Me? Besides, it’s a game of chance. Right?”
I’m not sure that he ever leaves anything to chance.
Once more, we settle in the living room.
The fire blazes, and he goes over the rules with me.
And once we start playing, I realize competitive was an understatement. The man is ruthless, needing to win at everything. And he uses distraction to his advantage. “You don’t play fair, Stryker.”
“No, sweetheart.” His grin is feral. “I don’t.”
A shiver that has nothing to do with fear or the outside temperature races through me.
“I play to win.” He sweeps everything on the coffee table to one side. “And tonight, I am going to win your trust.”
“Stryker…” I raise a hand, but because of the purposeful determination in his eyes, my pulse is already accelerating. “I already gave you as much as I can.” And it’s a million times more than I’ve ever offered anyone.
“Sweetheart, that’s a bet I’m willing to take.”
He leans in to capture a lock of my hair and twists his finger into it. He’s so close; he’s stealing the oxygen I need to breathe, to think.
“Give me a chance, Allie. You’ll learn you haven’t yet begun to explore all the places we can go together.” He drops his gaze to my breasts. “Ready to find out if you have more to give?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lyra
If I were smart, I’d say no.
I’m already in deep with Stryker. Deep? Another underestimation. My intuition is screaming at me. I’m in too deep.
The smarter version of me would suggest another card game. Maybe rummy. But when it comes to this man, the cautious me is nowhere to be found.
I want to experience everything he has to offer. The memories will be something to hold onto when we’re separated by miles.
Trembling with anticipation, desperate to know what he’s got in mind, I nod.
A soft, slow smile crosses his features, transforming the hard edges, taking years off his age. “That’s my girl.”
His girl.
A part of me wishes that were true.
But for now, in this moment if not forever, I can pretend.
The way he looks at me unnerves me.
Outside, the storm is raging like a beast clawing at the windows, but heat from his words wraps around me. And there’s no place I’d rather be.
Stryker spreads a thick blanket across the floor near the hearth, smoothing it, each motion deliberate.
Wishing I knew what he has planned, I wait.
Nearby, the flames crackle and pop, casting flickering shadows that dance across his face. My pulse quickens, becoming a frantic rhythm that matches the wind’s howl.
