Page 40 of The Hunted
“Out of everything that happened and all that I said, your focus is on my place of origin?” She laughed again, and he realized he liked that sound—liked how it transformed her. She looked like she was up to no good and he wanted every part of it.
“You must really not like her.” Silva sobered and he scoffed.
“We tend to stay on opposite sides of things, and nice dodge in not answering my question.” He reached for her but hesitated, unsure if he should touch her.
Silva caught on to his hesitation and immediately grabbed his hand with hers. “Why do you do that? Why do you always hesitate to touch me?” she asked as they moved away from the front of the bar. He’d driven here in his own truck after he swapped out vehicles from earlier in the evening. He wondered if she lived close to the bar or needed a ride home.
He hoped she did need a ride.
He wanted to see what it felt like to have her in his space.
He wanted more time with her.
“Because you almost snapped my partner’s wrist in half for touching you that day at the gym.” Partially true. He also had a hard time reading some of her cues. He thought she was attracted to him, but he knew attraction wasn’t necessarily consent. There was something about her he couldn’t exactly pinpoint that made him want to always ask for it, even though they had kissed twice now.
“Yes, I did that because I don’t like him. You…I…hmm…you have permission to touch me.” She turned to stop in front of him. “You did have your tongue down my throat already.” She had a cheeky grin on her face.
That I did.
His gaze dropped down to her lips again. The second kiss wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as the first, but it was just as addictive. She didn’t taste like coffee this time, but there had been lingering hints of chocolate, making him wonder if she wasn’t much of a drinker since her bottle had been practically full when they sat down.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispered, taking his hands and bringing them to wrap around her waist. The move ripped a low growl out of him that she seemed to enjoy going by the small upturn of her lips. Her warm hands wrapped around his neck, and the feel of them against his skin made him want to experience her touch on other parts of him, which was unnerving.
He hated other people touching him, even when it came down to sex. He usually kept himself hidden, keeping his partners focused on their pleasure so they were too far gone to noticed that he hadn’t climaxed with them or took more than his shoes off. Sometimes his jeans had to come off—they could get in the way—but he always wore his boxers and kept a shirt on.
His cock twitched behind his jeans, with his mind on sex and the way she touched him. He pulled her closer, wanting to feel her pressed against him.
It marveled him how well she got his body to respond to her. They were in the middle of an open street, and while he was dimly aware of the car pulling up behind them, his focus was on Silva, with her mismatched eyes and delectable lips. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Yet, as potent as his desire for her was, he couldn’t shed his desire to see how it would feel to snap her pretty neck.
“Santino,” she whispered his name, and he closed his eyes. The sound rumbled through him like thunder, shaking him to his core.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked again, her fingers drawing small circles against the back of his neck, soothing something deep inside of him.
“I’m thinking about wanting to know you more and how artfully you dodge questions,” he murmured, wondering what spell she was weaving over him. “Where are you from, princess?”
She pulled out of his hold, and he hated the sadness that seeped into his body from the loss of her touch and because he thought she was blocking him out. “Did you drive here?” she asked, and he nodded. “Are you close?” He nodded again, wondering where her line of questions was going.
“Can we sit in your car and talk? I don’t want to stand out on the street like this.” She bit her bottom lip, looking a little unsure. “Unless you’re worried you’re going to wake up in an ice bath with your kidney missing and find out I’m some creepy serial killer.” She held up her hands. “Then I totally understand your reservations.”
Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and her eyes widened. “I probably shouldn’t have joked about that with what’s going on out here and what the news has been saying.”
Santino barked out a laugh. His body warmed at the idea of being in an enclosed space with her—enjoyed it even more that she was the one who suggested it. She wanted to spend time with him, too.
He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips with no reservations, and kissed her under her pulse. “It’s okay to joke. I know it’s meant to be harmless. Besides, I’m not worried, princess. What are the chances that we’re both serial killers?” He winked, and her lips widened into a big smile, making her eyes crinkle at the corners.
Their gazes stayed locked on each other. The air around them sizzled and grew hot. His own pulse seemed to thunder in his ears, matching the tempo of hers. They both moved, but not away from each other; that invisible tether drew them closer. Every inhale he took was on her exhale, and his body was drawn so tight he felt like it wouldn’t take much for him to snap.
There was a gnawing in his stomach, one that reminded him of when he’d gone too long without hunting, but that shouldn’t have been the case. He had killed tonight. It should have satisfied him. It should have been enough to fill the pit inside of him, and it should have been enough to keep him steadied and centered.
Silva licked her lips and whispered his name. He closed his eyes as the gnawing in his stomach grew. His heart raced and his world spun on its axis.
“Santino?” She called his name again, and he slowly opened his eyes. “You want to kiss me again, don’t you?” He nodded. He wanted to do a lot more to her too.
Her voice was breathless and carried on the wind right to his cock. His blood was on fire, and his clothes seemed too tight for his skin. His thumb caressed the skin peeking out between her shirt and pants. When had he moved his hands?
She stood on her tiptoes. “Kiss me, please.”
Santino’s breath stalled. “You begging might become my favorite thing, princess.” He groaned, sealing his lips against hers.
