Page 72 of The Hunted
Santino knew how to play his role. She had to give him credit, but even the most experienced and skillful monsters let their mask slip occasionally.
And yet, no one here thought Santino was capable of anything but drinking too much coffee and maybe getting in trouble with Martin.
There was a knock on her door. She half-expected it to be Bates but wasn’t all that surprised to see Martin standing there with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Can I help you?” She didn’t bother with pleasantries, especially not when her body seemed to warm at the way his gaze swept through her like an intimate caress.
“I heard you volunteered to look through the security footage.” He took a tentative step into her office. When she didn’t object, he moved with purpose, dropping the cup on whatever available space she had. “You don’t do this type of work.” He paused. “Are you even allowed to, Amra?”
His voice dipped when he said her name. She leaned all the way back in her chair and angled herself so he wasn’t in her space, clouding the way her mind worked.
She shrugged. “There’s a serial killer on the loose. The more eyes the better. You do want to catch who’s been leaving bodies all over the place, do you not?” She eyed Martin, her brain not firing off on all cylinders because contrary to what she believed, she actually needed sleep to function. It was annoying, but she was of sound mind to know that she wasn’t at her sharpest right now, especially with the way her palms itched to grab Martin and pull him into her body, until she remembered he was Alvarez’s best friend and lied for him. She couldn’t figure out his why though. If it were proven that Alvarez was the killer, it would implicate Martin as well.
What did he know?
She eyed the coffee he brought, wondering if it would be strong enough to get her mind back on track where it needed to be.
Martin pushed the cup toward her as he continued to loom. His presence felt off-putting, but not in the same way Alvarez’s did.
“You’re so stubborn.” He picked the cup up and handed it to her. “Take the coffee, Amra. You can barely keep yourself upright. It’s not the station coffee. This one is stronger, but if it doesn’t wake you up, take a nap on the couch or go home.”
She snatched the cup out of his hand, took a sip, and sighed. It was just how she liked it, which let her know Martin paid attention enough to remember. “Why are you protecting him?” The words blurted out of her mouth like she wasn’t a seasoned pro and didn’t know how to play the game.
Martin chuckled and used the back of his hand to caress her face. “You really are stubborn, huh? All that beauty and brains and you’re hung up on a single person.” He made a disapproving clucking noise. “What happened to you that you’re so convinced it’s him, and why now?”
Because my guts never been wrong before.
“Answering a question with a question.” She mused around a yawn. The coffee was good, but it wasn’t helping. She needed the rest as much as she hated to admit that Martin was right. She needed to be sharp, and the fact that she couldn’t figure out the man standing in front of her let her know it was time to bow out and reconfigure.
“You can leave. I’m taking a nap on my couch.” She stood up, not surprised when he didn’t back up. “Do you need me to walk you to the door?” Martin held out his hand for hers.
She sighed. “I think I can make it to the couch on my own.”
“I know. I just want to tuck you in.” He smirked.
She scoffed and pushed the chair out of her way. She put the cup on her desk and walked over to her couch. She toed her heels off, her feet already letting out a sigh, and she practically fell back onto the couch. “Lock the door, please, when you leave.” Her eyes were already closing before she felt a blanket wrap around her and a soft kiss on her forehead.
“You’re wrong about him,” Martin whispered, “and you won’t find him or anyone on the security footage. The time Denise Miller was taken, there’s no footage for it. Some glitch the company said.” Another kiss, this one on her cheek. “You’re so smart, but sometimes I think you forget to look at things objectively. One day, you’ll tell me why you think it’s him, and maybe one day I’ll tell you why it’s not.”
“Santino.” Silva’s voice made him chuckle against her wet cunt. She was squirming and clawing at him, but it only made him eager to fuck her with his tongue more. He never enjoyed this aspect when it came to sex, didn’t like getting head either. He understood sex was a part of blending in, but he had his limits.
With Silva though, he couldn’t seem to get enough. He wanted to crawl inside of her, feel her wrap around him, and not do anything else for the rest of his life. He could easily see himself getting addicted to her taste. The little sounds she made that was a cross between a whimper and a groan was intoxicating. He loved the feel of her skin. He loved the way he made her body shake and crumble and the way she seemed to be free.
“Santino, please. I can’t,” she whimpered, clawing at his shoulders, while she tried to squirm away. He only tugged her closer to his face. It was an endless hunger he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to sate.
He pulled back, long enough to lift his head and look over her gorgeous body. She really was perfect. “I’m not done, princess,” he growled.
They moved to the floor. The bench wasn’t ideal for her body, and he wanted her comfortable while he took his time, learning how she felt on his tongue.
Silva’s eyes glazed over as she came up on to her elbows. “I don’t like that you’re still wearing clothes.”
He smirked. “Don’t you?” He ran his finger against the cuts on her thighs, a murderous haze fell over his vision. He was serious about not pushing her. It was her history to share, and she could do that when she was ready.
If she ever wanted to.
But he couldn’t deny the way his stomach churned at the thought that someone drove her to do this—to hurt herself. To make her feel like she had no other outlet than to cut herself open and purge whatever plagued her.
He ducked his head again, kissing each scar softly, enjoying the way her legs dropped open and the content sigh that left her lips.
