3. Stryker
CHAPTER 3
Stryker
S weat rolls down my forehead as I carry a huge box toward the elevator.
“Dammit. I forgot the small box by the tailgate of your truck.” Megan’s panicked voice makes me stop, and I look at her over my shoulder, annoyance flowing through me. She waves her hand at me. “Get on the elevator. I’ll go back outside and get it.”
I roll my eyes and keep going. This is our third trip, and I haven’t even unloaded her new mattress.
The elevator stops on the top floor, and the doors slide open. I exit, about to turn left, when a girl slams into me. I juggle the box, managing not to drop it. Irritation courses through me, but it vanishes when I look at her.
Holy shit. She’s beautiful.
“I’m so sorry.” Her hand grips my arm, an apology beaming from her sympathetic baby blues. Tingles shoot through my arm like I’m touching a live wire. Jesus. What is that?
She gestures toward her sneakers. “I didn’t realize my shoe was untied until I tripped and fell into you.” Concern shines in her beautiful irises. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay?
Not at all. It’s as though I’ve been struck by lightning, my nerve endings tingling and dancing.
I’m speechless as I stare at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
My gaze rakes over strawberry blonde locks to the shades of blue that make up her irises. I drink in her high cheekbones and bow-shaped lips before muttering, “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” She releases a breathless laugh, still holding onto my arm. Not that I’m complaining one damn bit.
Her attention turns to a group of students coming down the hallway. Irrational anger and disappointment roll through me when she turns her attention away. It disappears when she turns back to me, a smile curling her lips. “Sorry I tripped and crashed into you. I’m clumsy at times.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t mind a bit.” Understatement of the century .
I’m mesmerized by this gorgeous woman, wanting to know everything about her.
She looks down at her hand still wrapped around my bicep. Sucking in a breath, her gaze scans over the tattoos on my arms that disappear beneath the sleeve of my tee.
When the elevator doors open, she looks over her shoulder. I immediately turn to see who she’s looking at, jealousy swirling inside me. It fades when I see the older man carrying several small boxes.
“Miss Mallory. Where do you want these?”
“I told you I’d come down and help you, Edward,” she scolds. “Let’s go to my apartment, and I’ll show you.”
She turns to me with an apologetic smile. “Again, sorry for crashing into you.” She releases my arm and takes a box from Edward, giving me one last breathtaking smile.
I watch her walk away, long curls glimmering beneath the fluorescent lights. Her white capri jeans cling to the curves of her ass and legs.
Fuck, I want Miss Mallory.
Without giving it another thought, I follow them down the hallway, keeping a safe distance in case they turn around. But they’re too preoccupied to bother paying attention to me.
I grab my cell phone from my pocket when they enter her apartment. When I’m close enough, I take a picture of her room number, 319, before spinning around and striding back to Megan’s room.
When I walk in, Megan isn’t in the apartment, so I set the box on the floor before hurrying back to the elevator.
As I press the button, my head turns toward Mallory’s apartment.
I intend to learn everything I can about the gorgeous woman in apartment 319.