Page 83 of The Huntress and Her Hound

I’m no fucking therapist. Groaning, I run my hands over my face and turn to fill a mug up with coffee as my head keeps spinning its wheels. If Cher saw him last night, did he follow her here? Is he the kind of creepy ass stalker that lurks in the shadows, or is he going to escalate? Obviously, my guess is that he’ll escalate.

But how long has he been trailing her?

That question leaves me shuddering. I fucking hate old pervs.

The sound of soft footsteps break my thoughts and I turn to see Cher entering the kitchen in just my shirt, her hair messy and disheveled from sleep.

“Hi,” she says, her eyes diverting to her feet.

“Coffee?” I offer her, holding it out. “I can pour myself a new one.”

She eyes me and then takes it with a sheepish look on her face. “I’m sorry I fell asleep so fast last night. I just laid down and passed out.”

“You needed the sleep,” I comment, wishing I could just fucking kiss her until we were both panting for air, though I haven’t pushed for anything physical since she told me everything about her past. “But Henry is going to be wondering where you are soon.” I hate that I have to say that. I hate it because I don’t want her to go.

But if Henry finds out about us at this moment—without knowing what I’m trying to do—it’ll be bad. For everyone.

“I know.” Her voice is small, and I see the worry on her face. She’s been rocked, but if she’s really the person I think I’ve figured out, she’s going to come back.

And wreak havoc.

“I still owe you that apology,” Cher says, sitting her cup down on the counter and meeting my gaze. The sultry hues in her face have my cock jerking to life, but I’ve done enough when it comes to forcing a physical relationship with her.

“You don’t have to do anything.” I shake my head. “We can let it be water under the bridge.”

She glares at me. “So what? Now that I’ve told you I’m fucked up, we’re just friends?”

I set my coffee cup down and chuckle. “Oh, we’ll never be just friends.”

She eyes me as I take a step toward her. “Then what are we...” Her voice trails off as I slide a hand under her shirt, grazing her soft skin and stopping just above her ass.

I lean down, kissing the place her jaw meets her ear. “What do you want, Cher?” Her chest heaves as I press my body against hers, my cock digging into her lower stomach.

She tips her head back, meeting my gaze. “To crawl to you.”

Oh fuck.

“You don’t have to—”

“Don’t change how you treat me,” Cher demands, her brows furrowing. “Please. I still owe you that apology.”

For meeting with a detective. But you’re the Black Widow.

I need to hash that out, but the feel of her against my cock floods my mind with so many other desires—it can wait. “Finish your breakfast then find me in the guest bedroom. Sooner the better.” I reach for her shirt and tear it over her head. “You won’t be wearing this, either.”

Her cheeks flush with crimson as I leave her there in the kitchen to come to me when she’s ready. Just as she asked, I have no intention of going easy on her. She still hasn’t let me in on her greatest secret.

And it’s the sexiest fucking one.

My little wicked spider.

Chapter 30

The Huntress

I glance down at my naked body, insecure in the harsh light of the kitchen. Part of me wants to pick up the shirt from the floor and cover myself, but the other part is dying to follow Jude. I could sense the hesitation in him, and I know it’s because of everything I told him, but in his face, I could see...

He still wants me.

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