Page 36 of Striker

The thought of him being hurt makes me reach out and put my arm on his sweaty bicep.

"I'm always here for you, Owen. If you need me."

"You always have been, Dani. It makes me feel fortunate to have always had someone like you around. You..." He pauses, as if catching himself, and his voice hardens by the slightest degree, the warmth in it fading. "You and your brother have always been there for me. Even when things have been difficult, you two have always been people I could talk to. People I could count on."

As he struggles with his words, I struggle with my thoughts.

This is Owen, as I've never seen him. Exposed. Not just because he's shirtless, but he's never anywhere close to this open before. He's always been a closed book with a lock on it kept in an impregnable safe.

Right now, as he's sweating, as he's bruised and fighting some internal war, he's as honest as he's ever been.

If I wanted to get closer, I could; the heat in his eyes, the scent of his sweat, it pulls me in and urges me to kiss him the way I've always wanted to.

I shake my head.

I can not.

My mission to save Riley hangs in the balance, and Owen's presence — Owen's openness, Owen's vulnerability, Owen's ridiculously sexy ability to look hot even at four in the freaking morning — complicates everything. Yet, despite my resolve to stay focused, I can't shake the feeling that what’s developing between us is beyond my control. I might as well try to fight the orbit of the earth.

"I'm going to hit the shower," he says, leaving just a moment's worth of hesitation at the end of his statement that it sounds like a question. An invitation. An offer.

As I watch Owen walk away, his muscles still gleaming with sweat, a shiver of forbidden desire courses through me; my heart races, a dangerous mix of fear and longing grips me.

I want to tell him to wait, to let me join him.

Yet I know that would seal our fate.

"Falling for Owen isn't just a mistake," I whisper to myself. "It could be deadly for us all."

I have to stay strong.

But how much longer can I hold out when every move he makes breaks down all the barriers I put up?

Chapter Eleven

Striker

The steam from the shower wraps around me like a shroud, heat clinging to my skin even as I step out. My reflection in the fogged-up mirror is a ghost of myself, and for a moment, I let the mist hide me from my own conflicting thoughts. Danielle. Her image lingers in my mind, a blend of stubborn strength. She's been on my mind non-stop, her resilience, her stubbornness, and the way she just fits into my world. It's wrong, so wrong. She's Smokey's sister, for crying out loud.

Towel drying myself and then wrapping it around my waist, I head into the bedroom, half expecting more of Danielle's teasing or a snarky comment, but she's not there. The absence hits harder than I expect; it'd felt so right, that moment we shared earlier.

I dress quickly, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.

When she finally returns, her smile is like the first light of dawn. I can't help but ask, "Where’d you go? And what's got you so happy?"

"I had the most brilliant idea," she chirps. "I signed us up for a group activity this morning. You're going to love it."

Suspicion gnaws at me. "And what would that be?"

“Pampering session. Facials, haircuts, makeup trials,” she declares, barely containing her glee. "It was supposed to only be for us bridesmaids and some of the girls, but after a quick conversation with our friend with the clipboard, I got you on the list."

That man must hate me. That's the only explanation.

I’m dumbfounded. For a moment, I just stare at her.

“Makeup trials? You’re kidding.”

Her smile widens, devilish and triumphant.

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