Stryker (Books 1 & 2) (Atrox Security)

by J. C. Cliff

  My eyes go wide, and I slap my fingers over my mouth in shock. I’m totally appalled. “Oh my God,” I say between my fingertips, “just let me go ahead and take a wild guess as to what services my friend paid for. I’m going to kill her.”

  His lips twitch with mirth at my declaration, and his eyes sparkle with mischief that puts me on edge.

  “Well, it looks as if your friend paid for you to have the full experience. I’d hate to see good money go to waste, you know?” I look at him like he has three heads, but he unapologetically shrugs his shoulders. It figures—the pig. He hasn’t changed his philandering ways one bit. “You’ve got another hour of my time. Got any ideas how you’d like to spend it?” he asks, raising a brow in challenge. Yeah, I think I might know how I’d like to spend that time. I’d like to chain his ass up and whip him the old-fashioned way.

  Swatting his hand away, I immediately erupt with rage. “You… you’re un-fucking-believable! How dare you even think…?” I’m so livid I can’t get the rest of my sentence out. I feel the strain on my vocal chords, forcing my voice to the surface, and it comes out dark, low, and heated. “After the way you cheated on me, leaving me high and dry, you cock-sucking bastard….”

  I’m seething from deep within, bursting at the seams and getting ready to explode. My hands ball into fists as I find myself doing something I’ve been wanting to do for six years. I unleash the pent-up fury without restraint and begin sucker punching him anywhere and everywhere I can make a connection with. This, he was not expecting. I’ve taken him off guard, and before he can get his wits about him, I’ve already doled out some damn good shots before he jerks his body back and out of my reach.

  “What the fuck?” His hands rub over his face and chest to soothe the stings I’ve left behind, but I’m not done—far from it. Thoughts about modesty have gone out the window as I release the thin sheet then spring off the table. I rush at him like a linebacker. I can see nothing but red, because I have years of unfinished business buried inside me. I get two good punches in by the time he’s able to shake off the shock of my aggressive behavior. He grabs me by the wrists and painfully holds them in a tight vice. I’m struggling to get free, but can’t.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” The deep timbre of his voice is taught as he shakes me by the wrists to snap me out of it.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I hiss, trying to break his hold. “You’re so full of your cocky-ass self you thought I’d actually want you to touch me?” I force through a constrained voice, not wanting people outside our room to know we’ve got a showdown going on in here.

  Just when I think his grip couldn’t tighten on me anymore, it does. He’s compressed my small wrists to where it feels as if he’s going to snap my bones in two. The pain takes my breath away. I don’t think he realizes his own strength. He must see the contorted look of discomfort on my face, because he immediately loosens his grip.

  Still intent on not letting me go, he holds my arms out to the sides, and I’m helpless against his strength. He takes a step back as my arms stay outstretched then he unabashedly and arrogantly rakes his gaze over my body lustfully. I struggle again to break free, but I can’t. How damn humiliating is this? I belt out a rage-filled scream that pierces even my ears, “Let me go!”

  He stands there unaffected by my outburst, as if I said nothing. His eyes flick to mine while he wears a devious smirk. His voice drops a few octaves, morphing into a sexy whisper, “You were wet for me.”

  “Oh my God!” I flinch, blinking my eyes as if he just slapped me. “Are you fucking nuts?”

  “You can’t deny it,” he taunts, ignoring my question. “Our attraction to each other hasn’t changed—not one bit.” In one swift move, he jerks my body forward, my bare chest violently slamming into his steel frame, and at the same time he lets go of my wrists, he traps me in a bone-crushing embrace.

  Before I have the chance to fight back or let out another scream, his mouth has already crashed over mine. I struggle in vain to push him away, but doing that only serves to have him hold me tighter against him. I’m squished and I’m having a hard time breathing, and to be sure I stay lip-locked with him, he seizes me by the nape of my neck, holding me in place. One hand threads through my hair, while his other holds me flush against his body.

  He’s panting heavily as his tongue swipes over my lips, back and forth, demanding access. “Open,” he growls. My belly dips and flutters in response to his deep-toned demand. Damn him; just damn him for always having this effect on me.

  I can’t push him away, and my body can’t deny him. I’m so screwed. His fingers in my hair tighten, the roots stinging my scalp as he holds my mouth against his. “Give. In. Dammit,” he snarls. His tongue is strong and relentless, and with one last tug of my hair, I let out a gasp. His tongue takes that opportunity to plunge forward, past my lips. He’s assaulting me with deep, sensual licks and strokes. Is this what angered passion feels like?

  He’s playing dirty, and after his tongue has stroked mine several times with heated appetite, a wave of lustful need takes over. I give in, and I give him as good as I get. I kiss him back with just as much anger, misplaced emotions, and desire. The familiarity is bittersweet.

  “Fuck,” he exhales into my mouth, angling my head to the side so he can deepen the kiss. He breathes hot and heavy through his nose as he backs me up a few steps. When my ass meets the massage table, his erection presses against my stomach with a delicious force. He’s wild and out of control, and his intentions are very clear.

  I tear my lips away from his, gasping, as I tell him, “This can’t happen, Stryker. I can’t go there with you again.” I cover my swollen lips with my fingers, afraid if I don’t he’ll push past what little resolve I have and I’ll cave. His eyes are half-lidded as he runs his tongue across his lower lip, tasting the remnants of our kiss. I blink my eyes several times, hoping to dispel the lust shooting through me.

  He leans forward and gives me a few feather-light kisses on my cheek. He’s changing tactics, and I know he is when he tries to sway me with soft, seductive words. “I want you, baby,” he murmurs. His assertiveness and sex-laced voice have my legs trembling. The way he feels in my arms—as I said—it’s bittersweet. I’d love to give in. I’d love a lot of things right now, but this won’t lead to anything good.

  “Stryker, no,” I whisper behind my fingers. I’m so conflicted I just want to cry. “You had your chance with me… with us.”

  “I was young and stupid then,” he openly admits, his eyes shifting back and forth over mine, imploring me to believe him. “I made a grave mistake.”

  A small, agitated laugh escapes me. “Oh, so you’ve grown up in the last six years, have you? Good to know you missed me so much you came looking for me.”

  He pulls back, his jaw muscles flexing as he closes his eyes tightly. I need to go ahead and put a stop to all of this, push him away while I have the last of my wits about me. “So is this what you’ve reduced yourself to? You’ve found yourself a real career, giving women pleasure,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why doesn’t this surprise me?” I add dryly. The jabs are meant to hurt, but surprisingly he acts unfazed by my cold words.

  “There’s so much you don’t know, Valerie,” he softly replies in a way that has me feeling almost guilty for cutting him down. “There’s so much I can explain, but I never got the chance to tell you.”

  I narrow my eyes heatedly on his. How dare he try and play me with words just to get into my pants? My anger rises all over again, because the last thing this man will ever do is sweet-talk his way between my legs.

  “You know what?” I raise my voice haughtily, and challenge him, “I would like to get the full treatment, after all. You know… get my friend’s money’s worth. Let’s see what you’ve got,” I say on a dare. I plan on showing him what he can never have again, and what he’s been missing out on all these years. He releases me and takes a step back, his eyes wide, because most likely I’ve
taken him by surprise for once. It’s good to know I can unsettle him too.

  His mouth gapes open and his gaze travels to my perfectly-trimmed mound as I stand boldly before him, letting him soak me in.

  My eyes drift down to the bulge in his pants, and I smirk, knowing he’s turned on and won’t ever have me. He’ll never have me again.

  “Just do me dirty. You seem to be good at that.”

  CHAPTER 7

  ~ Stryker ~

  My eyes flick from the mound of her sex to her glacier green eyes. Her chin is held high as she stands buck-naked with her fists clenched at her sides. She wants me to do her dirty? Yeah, her insult hit home and she knew it was a low blow. I run my fingers through my hair and exhale the toxic anger that’s constricting my lungs, but it does nothing to dispel the pent-up aggression I’m feeling on the inside.

  I’m so going to kick someone’s ass for screwing up the rooms. Someone’s head is going to fucking roll. With the room dimly lit, and the fact I was wearing sunglasses, there was no way in hell I could know I wasn’t with my target. I only saw one photo of the woman and it was brief, because I was too busy freaking the fuck out to pay close attention to Quinn. Hell, I can’t even remember the bitch’s name I was supposed to meet, but I do know this is the goddamned room we all agreed upon, because this is her regularly scheduled room.

  Son of a bitch, I’m so livid I’m seeing red. I steal a glance at Valerie, and the way she’s looking at me, as if I were a traitorous bastard, pisses me off even more. One thing is for sure: Valerie will never know how sorry I was when we split up. Crushed doesn’t even begin to cover it. What happened between us has been one of the reasons why I haven’t found anyone else, or even remotely tried to settle down.

  So many things were left unsaid between us, and here she is, standing before me. She’s in anger mode, and I know from experience when a female is in this mindset, no matter what I have to say, she won’t hear it. Oh, she’d hear my words, but they would never sink in. It’d be a pointless conversation until she comes to terms with wanting to hear the truth, and then believing said truth would be an entirely different matter.

  Would she even want to hear what I have to say now? I clench my teeth, baring them at her like a wild animal as I gnash them together. I have to hold myself back from saying something I’ll later regret, and it’s taking everything within me to do so. If it’s possible, she looks more beautiful now than when I last saw her, and that’s putting it mildly, because I didn’t think she could top herself. Her hair is much longer than it used to be with shades of light brown mixed with dark, and it’s full of thick, soft curls.

  Bitterness and challenge emanates from her body, and I can’t say I blame her. I fist my hands, restraining myself from wanting to touch her again, claim her, and make her see reason. I almost had her too. Even though she says she doesn’t want me, her body says otherwise. She was wet for me, she kissed me back, and at those thoughts, a slow, arrogant smile creeps across my lips. I know I affected her, there were real sparks, the kind of sparks that leave no doubt in one’s mind that we shared a moment more profound than what it was intended to be. I’m fairly certain I can still turn this shit around.

  My smile starts to unsettle her, because she licks at her lips nervously and darts her gaze to the side. She thinks she can play dirty? Well, two can play that game. She doesn’t know what she just got herself into. I will fucking ruin her.

  I boldly sweep my gaze over every luscious curve of hers as she stands naked before me, and it’s clear she’s losing confidence with each second that ticks by. She’s so sure she’s going to make me suffer. Yeah, I might walk out of here with a case of blue balls tonight, but I’m going to enjoy undoing her. She doesn’t realize it, but by allowing me to pleasure her, she’s already lost. Her long brown hair with golden highlights is all mussed up from me raking my fingers through it. I love that look on her. My eyes dip down, and when a sparkle catches my eye, I freeze. On her left hand is a fucking wedding ring.

  My smile dissipates rather quickly, and I jerk my chin toward her ring finger, growing more pissed off by the second. If she were mine, I’d be ripping this place apart with my bare hands. No woman of mine would have the need to be here in the first damn place. But she’s married, and I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.

  “What’s the matter?” I gruffly ask, barely containing my rage. “Your man can’t get it up anymore? You’ve had to resort to stepping out? Got a few double standards of your own, I see.”

  A sharp gasp fills her lungs and her neck snaps back as if I slapped her. She then looks upward at the overhead lights for a moment. She’s damn near hyperventilating, and when she drops her chin, locking her gaze with mine, I notice her once hardened eyes are now shimmering. She squares her shoulders, and grits out, “As a matter of fact, he can’t get it up anymore. He can’t even breathe, because he’s dead. He died in an accident last year.”

  Oh, fuck, I internally berate myself. “I’m so sorry,” I say, forcing myself to speak gently. Her unexpected reply has my gut twisting for her. She holds up her hands to stop me from expressing any pity.

  “It’s all right. You couldn’t have known. Plus, I guess I had that coming.” She closes her eyes and nods her head as if she’s coming to an agreement within herself. “I should have taken the ring off some time ago.” She looks at her feet and I can sense the mood shifting yet again. Good fucking Lord, what has she been through? She’s standing here in front of me like a whipped puppy, and I know she’s suddenly feeling very naked and vulnerable, both inside and out.

  I step forward and wrap my arms around her in an embrace. I consciously avoid saying those words again: I’m sorry. Those two words fix nothing, just like our past, so I continue holding her in silence. Her body slackens against mine, allowing me to give her comfort.

  “This is the first night I’ve been out,” she murmurs into my chest, “and then I get sexually assaulted in a spa while running smack dab into you.”

  I pull back and half-grin at her. “Hey, you make it sound as if bumping into me is a bad thing, Val.”

  She bites her lower lip, and her brows scrunch up. “I’m sorry. What I said was rude,” she apologizes softly, “but this was a mistake.” She pulls away from my embrace, turning around to quickly grab for the white robe hanging on the wall, but I beat her to it. I bundle the cotton robe around her, helping her slip her arms through the sleeves, then tie the belt for her.

  She looks adorable all wrapped up in a cocoon. I give her a reassuring smile and pull her back into me. “This, I assume you’re referring to you and me, is not a mistake. I don’t believe in these types of coincidences.”

  “Stryker—”

  “Shhh, just let me hold you for a minute, okay?” I softly plead over her soft hair. She nods in agreement, and internally, I sigh in relief.

  I hoist her up and into my arms, carrying her to the far end of the room where an overstuffed chair sits in the corner. She wraps her arms around my neck, and it fills me with an unexplainable fulfillment. It’s like she needs me in this moment to comfort her. It feels good—damn good.

  I settle into the soft cushion as she curls up into a ball on my lap. She lays her cheek on my chest and a protective streak stirs within me. She’s vulnerable right now, and she’s giving me a piece of her. I can’t let that slide and go unnoticed. I rub the back of her neck, hoping to ease some of her tension away.

  I know I crushed her heart six years ago. I felt the agony and torment of our separation too, but seeing her reaction toward me today tells me I left her devastated.

  “Stryker?” she whispers.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you say your name was Matt when you introduced yourself to me?”

  I digest her question, keeping silent for a moment as I think about how to skirt around the truth. “To be honest, I don’t work here. I was filling in for a friend of mine. I guess I wanted to stay incognito, so I came up with a stage name.” I think m
y excuse sounded pretty legit, and she can interpret those words any way she pleases.

  We sit in silence, neither one of us knowing what to say to the other, but yet we want each other. After several quiet minutes go by, she’s the first to break the silence.

  “Did you ever marry her?” she quietly asks.

  “What?” I have to think back on what she’s talking about, but then I remember all the reasons why we didn’t work out. “No. Oh hell no,” I say, as if it’s the most repulsive thought on earth, and it is.

  “Are you… married?”

  I let out a sigh and frown. “No, baby, I never married.”

  She nods her head against my chest as if she understands, but she doesn’t. “It’s good to know I wasn’t the only one not good enough.”

  “Oh, God, Val. You don’t know what you’re saying,” my voice comes out low and pained. “You couldn’t be more wrong. No one ever felt right after you. I swear it.”

  “You totally destroyed me.”

  I hold her tighter in my arms, as if it can take away all the hell I put her through, put us through, but I know it can’t. “I know. God, do I know.” Do I say I’m sorry? Yet another cliché for when one thinks simple words can make up for bad decisions and poor actions? They’re empty words to me. I stroke the back of her neck while pressing her cheek firmly against my chest. I hope she can hear the sincerity in my voice when I tell her, “Things were out of my control back then. The things I did and said weren’t what they appeared to be. You have to believe me. I never mean to hurt you, Valerie. I’d take it all back if I could, but I can’t.”

  “If that’s how you felt, then why didn’t you ever come after me? You never once looked for me. You left me hurt and confused about so many things.”

  I have no words to console her. I have no excuse worthy enough. Why? Because I’m fucking undercover again, and until I find out what happened with the room switch, I’m forced to keep my mouth shut. “Other than the fact I’m an asshole, I have no answers for you. I wish I could say something to erase all the pain, but they’d just be excuses,” I offer in a regretful tone. “I can tell you I’ve changed. I’d swear my life on it, for what it’s worth.” I want so bad to spill my guts right now, to come clean with her, tell her everything, but now is not the time. Story of my fucking life.