Page 122 of Hunting Pretty

He seemed content enough to let his fingers drift closer to my right breast with his arm over my shoulders.

I stabbed out a text and sent my stalker a message.

Me: I’ve made a new friend. He’s quite handsome.

And I sat back to wait, a smug smile on my lips, convinced it would draw my stalker out.

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Istared at my phone, willing it to buzz with his reply.

The silence between each passing second felt heavier, the stillness pressing against my chest.

“I can entertain you more than your phone, eh,” Pierre said in his sexy accent.

He gazed at me with hooded eyes thick with lust. His fingertips brushed along the low neckline of my dress.

Why shouldn’t I enjoy a steamy night twisted in the sheets with his bronzed, south of France body?

But my body refused to respond.

It wanted dark shadows and the scratch of rope. It wanted to be chased and tied up.

It didn’t want blond, pretty, and French.

I typed out another message, more pointed, more daring, hoping it would pull him out of whatever shadow he was lurking in.

Me: He’s touching me… and I think I like it.

I leaned into Pierre’s chest, tugging his arm tighter around me, trying to rouse some level of interest from mystubborn pussy. I nipped at his neck and checked my phone behind his back.

Still nothing.

I repressed a growl.

I would lure him out.

Me: I like this guy’s lips. I think I might kiss them to see how they taste.

I hit Send, my heart pounding in sync with the flashing cursor.

Still nothing.

My thoughts raced as I chewed the inside of my cheek.

He never stayed quiet for long. He was always watching, always there. The silence now was almost suffocating.

Lisa giggled. I looked up from the glow of the screen to watch her curl a lock of the guy’s hair around her finger.

I should be enjoying myself with this handsome stranger. Like Lisa was with hers. Instead, I was glaring at my phone screen.

I gripped my phone in my left hand as my lips brushed against Frenchie’s earlobe. The deep guttural noise he made vibrated against my jaw.

But it wasn’t the vibration I wanted.

I wanted my phone to vibrate with a response.

I nuzzled into Pierre’s neck as I tapped out another message from over his shoulder.

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