Page 39 of Hunt for You

DeadGirlWalking:Wait, you work?

SleepingBeast:We aren’t all independently wealthy. Some of us have to make an honest wage so we have the resources for our very dishonest pastimes. Hunting isn’t a cheap hobby.

DeadGirlWalking:So, I’m a hobby now?

SleepingBeast:Goodnight, D. Picture tomorrow if there are bruises. And use the Arnica.

DeadGirlWalking:I will, but wait!

[DeadGirlWalking is typing…]

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I swallowed hard and almost gave in, but the first trickle of sweat started down my spine. I quickly logged out, then got off the computer, shaking my head at myself the whole time.

She was dangerous.Sodangerous to me.

But maybe that was the point, I realized. She wasn’t the only one who needed the risk to feel alive.

I did too.

I just never confused the hunt withfeelingsbefore. I’d always sworn I wouldn’t.

But she was hilarious, and smart, and bold, and fearless and…

When the screen went black and the computer’s hum stopped, I rubbed both hands over my face, asking myself if it was worth it—ifshewas worth it. Because I was breaking all my own rules. And that meant I had to have an honest conversation with myself.

Was she worth it, if she was the one that brought me down?

My soul answered without hesitation that she was.

I looked at the clock on my phone and cursed. Almost 2am.

I wasn’t lying to her. I had work in the morning. I needed to get some sleep.

But first, I had a phone to mirror.

Digging around in my bag, I drew out her phone and took it to the little workbench in the corner where I already had another, brand new phone in the same make, model, and year as hers.

And then I went to work.

14. Can You Feel It?

~ BRIDGET ~

That silk sleeping mask he’d made me buy was over my eyes, so I couldn’t see anything. But my other senses were heightened.

“Can you feel that, Bridget? Can you feel what you do to me?” Cain rasped in my ear and my belly trilled as he rocked his hips and I felt the hardness of him under his jeans, pressing against the crack of my ass.

“Yes,” I breathed, gripping the top of the car to give myself leverage as he cupped both my breasts over my shirt, then dragged his hands down, down, down my sides, then under the waistband of my yoga pants, his callouses scraping on soft skin, his hands so large that his thumbs pressed on my lower back when he cupped my hips.

Then his hands were moving and he was sliding my pants down, dragging my underwear with them.

The cool air of the garage shocked my heated skin and raised goosebumps that made him growl, long and low, burying his face in my neck and sucking hard as he bared me.

Then he had my pants and underwear past my hips and they dropped, puddling around my feet so I could step out of them, kick them off to the side while he kept his chest pressed against my back, his breath harsh in my ear. There was a clink as he unbuckled his belt and he leaned back slightly to give himself room to wrestle with his own jeans.

Bare from the waist down, I was already frantic for him and arched my back, bumping against his hands and breathing his name until he gave a guttural groan and grabbed for me, pulling me back against him and I gasped as the thick length of him slid between my thighs and teased at my most sensitive skin.