Page 136 of Surrender to Me
Then she surges upward—small, desperate, like she’s drowning and I’m the air—and her mouth presses to mine.
Not soft.
Not hesitant.
Hungry.
God, I feel it everywhere.
She grabs hold of my shirt, and I fist a hand into her hair.
Her beautiful lips part on a broken gasp, and I take her in, every trembling inch, every jagged breath, kissing her like she’s become oxygen.
Her body melts against me, warm and alive and needing.
I deepen the kiss. She’s mine. For life. Now that I have her, I’ll never let her go.
Then, shit?—
There’s a hard, impatient pounding on the bedroom door.
Lyra jerks like she’s been shocked.
A snarl tears out of my throat before I can stop it.
I pull away, only far enough to breathe, my hands still on her cheeks, her breath still mingling with mine.
“Ignore it,” I growl.
A second knock follows—louder, sharper, unmistakably authoritative.
I grind my teeth.
She blinks. “Stryker… Someone?—”
“Oh I goddamn know who someone is.”
And I’ve never wanted to kill a coworker more in my life.
Reluctantly I ease her back onto the mattress, and I let my hands linger on her for a second longer than I should.
As I stand, she trails her fingers down my wrist.
Her light touch is a tether that I need like my next breath.
“Come back to me,” she whispers.
My chest caves in on itself. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. That’s my promise.”
I stalk to the door, fury vibrating under my skin.
Inamorata stands there, arms crossed, unimpressed.
Hawkeye is beside her, arms also folded, looking like the storm front that murders lesser men for sport.
Hawkeye lifts an eyebrow. “You’ve had three hours and seven minutes, Stryker. Company protocol dictates twenty.”
My response is short.
