Page 19 of Hunted: Season Two

I didn’t know we were supposed to be having such a good time ripping our apartment apart again. Here I thought scouring every nook and cranny and crevice for tiny devices was supposed to be taken serious like a diagnostic test notlightlylike a fucking car wash.

Great.

Now that fucking song is gonna be in my head.

Nolan laughing slightly louder redirects my attention to where his frame is lifted onto the tips of his toes so that he can properly pat around the open cabinets above the stove. From here, it’s impossible not to admire how good he looks in that position.

Long, thick limbs stretched.

Back flexed.

Tight ass filling out his dark jeans.

Fuck, if we weren’t on a desperate mission to reassure Bunny that we’re not being recorded by the crazy motherfucker stalking her, I’d take a ten-minute break on my knees, between his legs, and refuel on that diesel.

“Come on, Ace,” Garcia smugly chortles at the same time he lowers himself to a squatting stance in order to feel around the bottom of the cabinets. “You know you can’t lie to me. You’ve never been able to.”

But me?

Sure.

What else do you call having a secret fucking life I knownothingabout?

It’s like buying a used car in fantastic condition only to find out the car history wasn’t completely disclosed prepurchase.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t want Nolan if I knew more shit about him.

I obviously would.

I’dobviouslystill take him off the lot –any lot– any day of the week…It’s just…it’d be fucking nice not to wonder about who sat in the driver’s seat before me.

Who drove him better.

Best.

Who knew how to shift all his gears.

Press all his buttons.

With Bunny, I don’t have to wonder about the last one who held the keys.

His ass is still trying to get back under her hood.

Yet with Nolan?

I’m not even sure how many people he let enjoy a test drive.

“I ain’t lyin’,” my boyfriend grunts a laugh in return, body inching closer to Garcia’s during his continued search of the space. “Easiest hundred I ever made.”

Garcia cocks his head up, crooked grin so nauseating that I can’t help but gag under my breath. “Even easier than-”

“Fuck. Me.” Nolan shakes his head and drops his gaze to our attorney. “Second easiest.”

“See,” the man I hate being here laughs louder. “I know you.”

“Do you know now is not the time to try to play grab ass?” I bite on the drop of another magazine, revealing that everything on our coffee table is clear of possible recording devices.

There’s no hesitation for my best friend’s glare to find mine. “You really wanna pull this shit when I was just inyourstwo hours ago?”

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