Page 31 of Strike
Staringup at the roof of Callie’s room, I breathed in the scent of her perfume and frowned.
We were at the morning after bit. She was still asleep in my arms, and I didn’t know what to do. It had been a couple of years since I actually slept next to a woman I’d had sex with. Sneaking out in the middle of the night didn’t count.
The sound of heels clacking on the floorboards drew my attention. They clattered down the hall, past the bedroom door, and a moment later, the front door opened and closed. Probably her housemate. Awkward.
Callie moved against me, her leg rising higher and higher until her thigh brushed my cock.Dammit. She was… She was too much, and I wasn’t sure I liked the way she’d taken over my every waking thought. I’d never dwelled on Lori this way even though I’d cared for her.
Tracing my fingers up and down her spine, I closed my eyes and tried to quieten my swirling mind. She was perfect. Her curves felt good to the touch—soft, smooth, and creamy—and her breasts fit perfectly in my palms and the sex.Fuck.
It was nice to hold someone in my arms and just…be. I’d missed this more than I’d realized I would, and that was what troubled me.
Fuck. I was doing that thing again. The one where I was about to justify my knee-jerk reaction to happiness. Maybe this was my chance, but what if she believed the stories in the papers? She would find out I’d been keeping the mother of all secrets from her, and she would run straight to that pansy-ass fucker, Justin the firefighter. He was easy and normal. Not like me.
Callie tightened her grip around my middle and moaned contentedly.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey…”
I combed my hand through her pale blonde locks.
“What’s Storm R all about?” she asked, her fingers tracing lazy circles over my nipple.
“That’s the name I fight under. Storm.”
She snorted, and I felt her lips curve. “Really? Your fighter name is Storm?”
“Don’t ask about coming to see me fight, either.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she retorted. “Somehow, I don’t think I would like it. No offense.”
“None taken.”
We fell into an uneasy silence. It was becoming clearer that we were great at physical interactions, but when it came to conversation, we floundered.
“How old are you?” she asked after a moment.
“Old enough to know better,” I retorted, earning myself a sharp pinch.
“Stop it,” she said with a laugh. “Tell me.”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Really?”
“Really. Now, how old are you? Don’t make me guess because I always get that shit wrong. There’s no way I’m risking your wrath.”
“My wrath?” Her head lifted, and her gaze met mine.
“Yeah.”
Her fingers traced over my eyebrow. “Says the bad boy cage fighter my mother warned me about.” She couldn’t hold her serious expression and burst into fits of giggles.
Flipping her over, I covered her body with mine and forced my thigh between her legs. She gasped as I began to move gently against her clit, and her smile faded.
“Are you going to tell me?” I asked, my voice low.
“Old enough to know better…” Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moaned softly as my lips caressed along the curve of her neck. “But young enough to keep doing it.”
