I follow. I’d like to say it’s because he’s my target, but I’m not sure that’s why. I just have this…need to know what he’s up to. Where he’s going. What he’s doing.
Pushing past people gyrating against me, I follow through the doorway and come to an immediate halt.
What the hell?
Axes are flying through the air, slamming into targets at the other end of a lane. For a second, I have to do a double-take to make sure I haven’t stumbled into one of our training rooms. But a rub of my eyes shows that, nope, I’m not tripping. Evidently, this is something you can pay to do. For fun.
Who knew? Not me, that’s for fucking sure.
My cock grows harder as I watch Rowan move up to a counter and slap the hand of a man behind it. He’s given a small tote of knives and axes before moving to a caged throwing lane. He sets the tote down on the ground, and I move up a few feet behind him.
I’m past trying to be discreet. He’s already caught me watching. Might as well lean into it.
So I take up a spot against a pillar and watch.
He hits each and every target with the grace of a skilled assassin.
I’m beyond intrigued. My fingers unclasp the knife and tuck it away for later use.
I won’t be killing him right now. He’s too fucking beautiful in this moment. A dancer and an expert knife thrower.
I could use some tips before he goes.
“See something you like?” I hear him say, and my eyes slide from the target to see he’s standing in front of me. He’s caught me. Not that I’ve been trying to hide. I’m out in the open. “I saw you watching me back there on the dance floor.”
I smirk. “Who’s been watching who?”
He cocks his head and gestures to my overcoat. “It’s that coat you’re wearing. You look…hot.”
He flushes, and my dick twitches again. Fucking thing has a mind of its own. “You look…hot too.”
He swipes his forehead and smiles wider, those perfect teeth flashing at me. “Thank you. Knife throwing is a lot of work. Takes a lot of…stamina.”
“Care to give me some tips?” I ask, shoving off the pillar and moving toward him.
As I approach, towering over him, I realize his lithe frame is the perfect size. I could easily pick him up and bounce him on my needy dick.
He’s a murderer,I remind myself.
So am I, my brain counters.
“For dancing or throwing?” Rowan smiles so brightly it’s almost painful to look at. “Seems you could use a little help with both. I saw you dancing against the wall…if you could call it that.”
I study him closely. How is it possible that someone who embodies such sunshine is hiding such darkness within?
His smile falters slightly. “If you want, of course. No pressure. I’m easy. Easy-breezy.”
Every word out of his lips causes me more confusion. More intrigue.
I can’t help but want to work him out.
I shouldn’t. I know that.
Trouble is, I’ve never been good at doing what I’m supposed to.
“Oh, I want,” I say finally, touching his hip. “I want to learn all of your moves.”
Rowan bites his bottom lip, leaning in so close to me. He smells like lavender cookies. His breath is warm on my cheek, and I inhale deeply before he suddenly twists and something flies through the air, hitting the target dead in the middle.
