Page 51 of Prey for You

“But—”

“There’s no point. Nothing is going to change.”

My chest tightened. “What are you hiding? Has Jeremy been—”

“This has nothing to do with Jeremy.”

“Then what? Something’s eating at you, and it’s scary being on the other side of the city and the other side of the screen and watching you shrink.”

She huffed. “I’m notshrinking.”

“Bridget…”

She rolled her eyes and rolled away from me. I was about to grab her back, but she didn’t keep moving, just rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. “How about we make a deal?”

“That depends, but… Sure?”

She snorted. “How about I give you something to read when you’re home that will make it all clear. And you stop asking me now. And we don’t think about anything except each other and how hot you are, and how hungry I am.”

“Hungry?” I grinned. “For—”

“For food, right now,” she said, but she was starting to smile. Then she turned her head to catch my eyes and my heart expanded. “Then for more of you.”

“I think I could get on board with that,” I said, unable to resist rolling onto my elbow and reaching for her breast, holding the weight of it and teasing her nipple with my thumb—rumbling my approval when it hardened under my touch immediately.

Bridget bit her lip and the gleam in her eyes told me she was going to be beautiful, magical trouble when we came back to bed. But I wasn’t going to let her distract me.

“Where’s this thing you want me to read?” I asked quietly, then leaned down and sucked her nipple into my mouth, laving it with my tongue. “I don’t want to forget… in case we get distracted,” I said, letting my lips play over that sweet peak.

Bridget’s fingers were already in my hair, already holding me against her, but when I raised my eyes, she went still. Then groaned in frustration, before rolling away and getting out of bed.

To my surprise, she knelt next to the bedside table and dug through a drawer there, cursing at one point. But then she was standing next to the bed with an envelope in her hand.

“Did you bring a bag, or should I put this in your jeans?”

“Just put it in my jeans. I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”

She huffed again. “You can burn it for all I care,” she muttered and that tension was back in her shoulders as she picked up my jeans from the floor where I’d let them drop, folded the envelope, and slid it into the back pocket.

Then she looked up and our eyes locked.

I smiled and so did she.

“Food, or…?” I asked her quietly.

Her smile broadened. “I think you need to keep up your strength,” she whispered. “I don’t plan on much sleeping tonight.”

Then she casually straightened and walked out of the room, still naked, with me scrambling to get out of bed and follow her.

We didn’t even sit down, just stood—still naked—in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, eating our sandwiches off the cutting board.

I couldn’t stop watching the way her breast plumped when she moved her arm to get the salt. Or whatever.

I was struggling to focus, but we only had a few hours. I needed to get home while it was still dark and neighbors were unlikely to see.

Somehow she’d started muttering about Gerald. I made myself tune in.

“…I know he means well, but he’s so fuckingpushy,”she muttered around a mouthful of roast beef sandwich.

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