Page 51 of Boys Who Hunt

My lips shudderas I suck in a breath, looking down at the boy who fell into the chair while his puppy-dog eyes are permanently glued to my face. “How did you know where I live?”

There’s a reason I didn’t go back to my house, and then this fucker suddenly pops up like he already knew where I lived.

“Are you sure you want to know?” he asks.

I nod, the knife still firmly lodged into his neck.

I can’t trust him. I don’t. Yet … something about the way he looks at me, like he would bow at my feet, keeps me intrigued.

Keeps me wanting to know more.

“Tell me.”

He gulps.

“I’ve been following you home … ever since I first saw you.”

Wow. But that feels like ages ago.

“The first time, I came in through the window.”

My eyes widen.

He’s … been stalking me?

That means I wasn’t dreaming when I felt like someone was watching me that night I came home to Cora wandering out of bed.

“It was you,” I murmur.

So I was right all along.

He knows where my house is. It’s too late to hide. Too late to save Cora.

“I promise I won’t tell a soul where you live,” he says. “I also brought your bike back after I took you home. I put the wheel back on and fixed it.”

What is this? A plea for forgiveness?

My grip on the knife tightens. “How did you get into my home?”

He gulps. “I stole a key the first time I came into your home.”

Damn. I should’ve hid them better.

“Why? Why did you do it?” I ask.

“I couldn’t help it. I had to see you. Over and over again,” he says, straining against the chair like he’s trying his very best not to lean in to the knife. “It’s never close enough.”

I have to say, it’s kind of a kick to have a guy like him, with the power he has and the frat house he belongs to, practically fawn at the idea of being close to me.

And even though I’m angry as hell that he knows where I live and sneaks into my house … I really want to know where this could lead.

If I could take back some of the power those boys have siphoned off me.

“I’m addicted,” he murmurs.

“How addicted?” I hover so close to his face I can practically taste his desire from the air he breathes. “Show me.”

His dimples show up again as his lips part, and a tongue dips out to lick the top of my lip. And for a second, I just look down at him fawning over me, those caramel eyes taunting me, pushing me over the edge. And then I return his lick with a kiss.