Page 78 of Hunted
‘You should have returned to me.’
‘I was taking some me time.’
One dark brow arches. ‘Is that what we are calling it?’
‘What would you call it?’
‘Evasion.’
I roll my eyes. ‘You hold such a high premium on yourself, Don Moretti.’
‘Or maybe it was evasion with a reckless dose of anticipation,’ he says quietly, thumb brushing the inside of my wrist in a stroke so light it almost feels imagined. ‘Or excitement. A trace of fear because you knew I would not simply let you get away from me.’
His gaze lowers, then rises.
He leans in and inhales. ‘Yes. Definitely fear. How your juicy little heart races, sweet hunter. But calm yourself. I prefer not to be drenched in the stench of terror when I take someone.’
‘Oh yeah, by all means, tell me more of your gross proclivities.’
His nose skims near the top of my ear, and while I yearn to be grossed out, an unholy number of nerves strain towards him.
‘I find genuine submission the headiest aphrodisiac of all.’
My breath catches despite myself. ‘I am calm,’ I rally belatedly. ‘And if a little fear is what you crave, why claim those women did nothing for you this morning? They practically liquefied at your feet.’
‘Easy prey,’ he dismisses. ‘A whisper of glamour to soften their nerves. That does not quicken my blood.’
‘Poor you.’
‘Indeed.’ His mouth curves slowly, so close I almost feel it against my jaw. ‘Care to offer a tastier challenge, little hunter?’
‘What, pretend to run so you can catch me?’ Shit. Why do I sound breathless?
His head tilts, thoughtful and dangerous. ‘Or we can abandon the pretence altogether.’
‘Assuming I’m pretending, which I’m not, why would I do that?’
His gaze burns into mine. ‘For a prize.’
‘A prize,’ I echo, drawn despite myself.
‘Hmm. You positively bristle with thirst for answers. I’ll give you one guess as to what I propose.’
Don’t take the bait, Eira. For shit’s sake, don’t. ‘And is that what we’re playing for? Answers?’
‘That,’ he says smoothly, ‘is what you are playing for.’
My heart gives a traitorous lurch, and the bastard smiles like he heard it.
‘And what will you be playing for?’ I ask, forcing boredom into my voice and missing by a mile.
His eyes travel over my face slowly, with a rabid focus I feel to the bottom of my soul.
I didn’t bother with underwear after my bath. Given how determined my body is to betray me tonight, it is only a matter of time before he smells it.
‘When I win,’ he says, voice velvet-lined and dangerous, ‘I get to taste you, little hunter.’
‘Absolutely not,’ I snap, though my pulse spikes for entirely unhelpful reasons. ‘I’m not letting you drink me down like hot chocolate because—’
