The Four Leaf (A Holinight Novella)

Samantha

The little robotic voice from his phone lets me know my time has begun, prompting me to get my ass out of the chair. Slowly, I slip off the stool, my skin tingling from Adrian’s lingering gaze.

Excitement blooms through my core, and just like that, my adrenaline is coursing. The rushing of my blood is the only thing I can hear as I take my first step toward the exit. It’s as though something long forgotten has clicked, setting me on edge and urging my feet to move.

I don’t even bother looking back at Adrian or my sister, but instead, train my eyes forward. My pulse beats in time with the sudden countdown in my head, letting me know a rough estimate of how much time is left. Meanwhile, the eagerness flushing through my veins makes me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

I weave through the crowd, noting the number of people Adrian will have to move between in order to reach the doors. It will be harder for him considering his size, so I have a buffer to add to my time.

Within a minute, I’m back in the lobby. It’s beginning to fill with guests, but with our check-in system, the counter isn’t overwhelmed. The chatter of nearby conversations drowns out as my ears perk up for anything that sounds even remotely close to Adrian.

His walk is telling–muted, yet heavy. It’s how he’s always managed to get me out of my good spots when we were kids. I’d think he’d given up and would come out, and bam, he’d be there waiting to tackle me to the ground and tickle me till I screamed uncle. It took a few times before I figured out how to listen for the floors to creak beneath his weight. Or the squish of a mat under his boot. Even the wood whined as he climbed the steps.

But now, something tells me none of that will help. If he does catch me, I won’t be tickled, and uncle won’t stop him.

Through the cluster of the other guests, I manage to slip past the receptionist without her noticing. Nor does the busy bellboy, who is loading up two carts of overnight bags.

Down the hall, I open the large wooden doors. I knew from the moment he said to hide, where I’d go. Maybe it’s because deep down I know this will be one of the first places he looks. Which probably means I want to tell him my secret. I want him to know how I feel. How I’ve felt since I realized my love ran deeper than the heart.

But I also have a plan to get something out of him too. Because before I say anything, I need to know–really know–what exactly it is he feels when he looks at me.

I’m ready to play as many games as he wants, but guessing won’t be one.

Inside the room, I lift the heavy curtains and squeeze inside, repositioning the fabric so it falls naturally over my frame.

When I’m satisfied and nearly out of breath, I wait.

Adrian

She’s hiding. Samantha is fucking hiding.

I’m lucky enough to have her in my life, not only as a supporter, but a friend. My best friend. To think for one minute that she may be into something so fundamentally important to me is… unreal.

My entire chest vibrates as I check the time on my phone. It’s only been two minutes since she took off, but the anticipation–the pull–is killing me. It’s a deep-seated hunger that will only be satisfied when the prey is in my hands. When her body is beneath mine, submissive and writhing with want.

She will be my greatest hunt yet, and if I have it my way, she’ll be my last.

I set my empty glass back down and nod to Willow, who has been conveniently tied up until her sister disappeared in the crowd. She floats to my end of the bar and grabs the empty cup, slipping it beneath her in the bin.

“I should have guessed primal a long time ago. It makes so much sense now,” she says, wiping off the counter with the smuggest of smirks on her face. “That was your favorite game when we were younger.”

Considering her box of treasures I stumbled upon a few years ago, it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest she knows what a primal kink is. “That it was. Who would have known it would turn into something like this.”

“Oh, believe me, I see the appeal.” Willow leans over, examining me with her amber eyes.

At first, I mirror her grin and tilt my head, but then an idea strikes. Willow is the only one who knows the small part of Sam I don’t, and while yes, I want Bambi to be the one to tell me, I can’t lie about the slight ache resonating in the back of my heart. The sliver of doubt still holding on tight. “You think she’ll go for it?”

This makes Willow throw her head back with laughter, garnering a few stray looks from some of the patrons. “For you? Absolutely. You have no idea, Stokes.”

Hope flares in my chest with her unsaid confirmation, snuffing out some of the uncertainty. My eyes flash to the clock.

Five minutes.

Plenty of time, considering I only need one.

The forewarning I gave her was not meant to be a deterrent, but a test of a few things. One, if she’d actually accept the terms of the game. Two, if she trusts me enough to do something like hiding in a hotel with no real idea of what will happen when I find her.

Lastly, if she goes to the only place I intend to look, she wants this as badly as I do.

And I plan to reward her accordingly.

I hand my debit card to Will. “Guess I’ll find out soon.”

Samantha

You’d think hiding in a mass of thick velvet curtains, counting to sixty, nine times over, would be calming to the heart. Perhaps even give me time to think things over and contemplate how wrong I may be that he’d come here first.

But it doesn’t. I know Adrian. I know any second, he’ll walk through the door, and snatch me up, and… well, I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I know it will change everything. As he implied, we’re already past a point of return.

We’re jumping in the pool and all I can do now is hope like hell we both know how to swim.

My heart has also not returned to normal. If anything, the sheer anticipation is keeping it at a calorie-burning rate. One minute left.

I force myself to suck in a slow ten-second breath, then push it out. I do this twice before it happens. The sound.

The sway of one door opening, then the snap of it closing, followed by the clunk of the lock.

He’s here.

And he knows I am too.

My body begins to quiver, my throat turns dry, and the air is no longer filling my lungs. This is it.

The sound of his boots meeting the carpet is nothing more than a muffled shuffle, but the sound is incredibly nerve-wracking. They’re slow and paced out. Purposeful. But he isn’t getting closer. No, he’s nearing the–

As soon as I think it, a b-flat minor chord echoes throughout the ballroom. The sound winds around my spine, and my eyes squeeze shut.

“I found you, Bambi.” Adrian’s voice is much deeper than normal, almost a husky growl that forces my thighs to squeeze together. “I want my prize.”

I lift my hand slowly and clamp it over my mouth. He may know I’m in here, but not where, and I have at least twenty seconds left–more than enough time to win.

The sudden strike of the piano makes me jolt, and his chuckle is immediate. “There you are. Be a good sport and come out. I mean, unless you prefer I come get you.”

Flustered, I allow myself another minute before beginning to draw the curtains from around me. The heavy fabric is somehow harder to move, but as I begin fighting with the damn things, they suddenly open, Adrian slipping inside with me.

A small squeak falls from my lips, making him laugh again. “Did I scare you?”

I shake my head, attempting to regain some type of control of my body, which is currently going haywire. “No, just startled. I didn’t hear you.”

He jerks the curtain open, untangling me while also encasing us in a small sort of bubble. When he takes a step toward me, I bite into my lip, a heaviness sinking low in my stomach. I’m positive he notices, but instead of calling attention to it, he lifts his phone, showing me the screen.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Now, for my secret.” He smiles, silencing the alarm and slipping the phone back into his front pocket. “I want to know what my name sounds like when you come.”

Adrian

Samantha’s eyes widen as she processes what I said–which, in her defense, was not what I originally planned to ask. It just… came out. “I mean, it’s only fair, considering you know what your name sounds like.”

She clears her throat, blinking a few times before steeling her voice. “Are you sure that’s what you want to use your win for?”

My brows furrow, my head jerking back slightly. Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “I’d say that’s the best prize.”

Her light pink tongue slips out, wetting her lips. I want to lean down and suck it into my mouth, see if I can taste the croissant still lingering on her taste buds. Or maybe the drink she decided to steal from me at the bar. She shifts her weight from heel to heel before deciding on something and closing her eyes.

Confused, I wait, curiosity forcing me to watch as both her hands come up on either side of her and fist the thick velvet surrounding her head.

In the next second, her chest starts heaving up and down, a rose color blooming over her cheeks. By the time I realize what she’s doing, it’s too late for me to redact my request.

“Adrian.”

Fucking hell.

I don’t know what I thought it would sound like, but whatever I could have imagined doesn’t hold a candle to her molted moan. It’s breathy and desperate, a plea coating every syllable. It’s pure and unfiltered want, surging the blood straight to my already stiff cock.

I move quickly, pressing a hand over her mouth and closing what little space is between us. “That will do, Bambi.”

She peels her eyes open far too slowly, a smug smile lifting my hand. Her gaze roves over my face, then down to my fingers, which I remove. She drops her arms.

“Is it what you expected?”

“No,” I answer honestly.

“It sounds better when I’m actually coming.” Her lashes flutter when she realizes what she’s revealed, but I don’t give her the chance to paddle backward.

“How often?”

Sam’s face falls and I hook my forefinger under her chin and bring her eyes back to mine. “Don’t do that. You’ve never hidden from me before. Don’t start now.”

She gives me a curt nod, but instead of releasing her face, I move to the right, running my thumb along her jaw. She leans into my touch, and it’s then I decide I can’t wait.

If she learns about my needs and decides it’s too much, I’ll be able to handle it because I’ve had her. Even if it’s just this.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Bambi. Is that okay?”

She nods again, but when I don’t immediately move, she whispers a quick, “Yes.”

Quick learner.

Just as I’ve imagined every time I close my eyes, her lips fit mine perfectly. They were made to cushion my hard blows, to open to my demanding tongue, to cradle my need for dominance.

I pin my body to hers, threading my fingers through her brown strands and drawing us closer. She moans into my mouth, grinding her body against mine as she wraps her arms around my head.

We stay like this until we both can’t breathe, giving, taking, and fighting to get closer than we already are. When I finally rip my mouth from hers, I tighten my grip on one side of her head, forcing it to lull to the side as I graze my teeth down her neck.

She shudders against me, and it takes more self-control than I thought possible not to bite her neck and say fuck everything else. Luckily, it seems Sam’s own curiosity is begging to be answered.

“I want a rematch.”

“Come again?” I ask against the column of her throat, my nose trailing up and down her soft skin.

She moves a hand to my chest and presses so lightly it almost feels like just a touch, but I know better. I’ve committed myself to learn signs of nervousness and withdrawing consent without a clear verbal indicator.

I take a small step back, releasing her while granting her enough space so she feels safe, but not rejected in any way.

She clears her throat and lowers her hands to the waistband of my jeans. Her gaze stays trained there as she brushes her finger softly over the denim. “I want a rematch. I have questions I’d like answered.”

“You don’t need a rematch to ask. I’ll answer whatever you’d like to know.”

She shakes her head but still doesn’t look up. “No. I want to play.”

“Play what?” I hook my finger under her chin again until she peers up at me from behind her fan of dark lashes. Her innocent eyes are on full display, and the mere image sends my dick straining against its confines.

“I want to play tag.”