Page 17 of The Huntress and Her Hound

“You don’t have to entertain Jude,” Henry cuts in, reading the scenario all fucking wrong once again. “He can find something to do for himself—like gathering more intel.”

“Ah, yeah, good idea.” I chuckle. “I forgot we were here on work-related business for a minute.”

Cher bites down on her lip, and I wonder if she does that when she’s about to orgasm—but maybe she just closes her eyes. Maybe she never lets herself feel pleasure. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who enjoys anything in life.

I could show her. Or force her.

The latter has my cock throbbing, and I’m suddenly desperate to work it out of my system. I want something real for once. It’s been so fucking long. I breathe out, my ears ringing too loud to hear the light conversation Cher and her brother are having right in front of me. I spin on my heels and head out of the kitchen, not stopping until I’m locked away in my own fucking bedroom.

I need release.

I sweep the mouse across the pad and wake up my computer. I navigate to the CCTV footage I hacked into in the early hours of the morning, where I watched Cher over and over again in that stupid blonde wig. I replay it once more as I unzip my jeans and pull myself out.

You saw what happened to Henry and Lydia. Emma and Luca. And Henry will hate you.

My fingers wrap around my shaft, hesitating. I know I won’t be able to stop this obsession once it starts, either—and this isn’t like Luca or Henry’s situation. Cher has no interest in me. I know I’m setting myself up for fucking torture. Unrequited attraction. She already hates me. I can see it all over her face. But maybe I could change her mind, and then...

Then I could force her to submit to me.

I stroke once, my eyes flickering back to the soft grainy curve of her hips. My mind starts running with possibilities. If I could just get her to say yes to one fucking night with me, the things we could do...

“Shit,” I mutter, instantly dropping my hand away. That’ll never happen. Don’t feed a desire that’ll never be met.

Rejection, embarrassment, and defeat riddle my core. I quickly put myself away and exit out of the video. I’d never proposition Henry’s sister. I’d never fucking proposition anyone. The few women I’ve been with were before I fell from my throne of wealth. And they actually wanted me. Well, my wallet, but whatever.

Over a decade ago. A fucking decade. Might as well be considered a virgin.

I roll my eyes, and then slam my fist down on the table. I need to fix this. Get laid. I’m in Vegas for fuck’s sake. That shouldn’t be hard to accomplish. Not even for me.

After I figure out where Cher works and what she’s up to, of course.

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, and I jump up, rushing to it and unlocking it. I swing the door open to see Henry standing there, an amused look on his face.

“Why was the door locked?”

“To prevent creeps like you from barging in,” I joke, moving to the side and letting him step across the threshold. “What’s up?”

“We need to get to work and learn as much as we can before tonight.”

I nod, hearing another door close somewhere in the apartment. Henry plops down in the chair and navigates to the folder of what little information I’ve gathered. I lean against the wall while he scrolls, pulling out my phone and navigating to an app I developed for location tracking. Being this close to Cher’s phone should make it easy.

I set it up to ask for access to her phone, and then wait. All it’ll do is flash a message across her screen asking her to approve an update for her phone software later tonight. Either answer will let me in.

“Did you notice he frequents a sex club called Shooter’s?” Henry muses, still paying attention to the screen.

“Hmm, sounds like fun,” I mumble as I stare at my screen, waiting to be let into Cher’s phone. After a few more mindless moments of zoning out on the flashing dot in front of my eyes, it finally goes through.

Got you, you little coffee cup stealing shit.

Now, I know exactly what I’ll be doing tonight. I mean, just because I can’t touch her, doesn’t mean I can’t at least watch her. Besides, there’s still the mystery of what was really going on in that alley.

And I’m going to solve it. If only just for the distraction it provides.

Chapter Seven

The Huntress

He ruined my favorite fucking cup with his stupid, perfect mouth. I drum my finger incessantly on the bathroom counter. I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes, and I’m still fuming over a ten-dollar ceramic mug.

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