Page 34 of Hunt You Down

Despite my objections, André insisted on having lunch while we were out.

I couldn’t sit still. Every time I’d get myself under control, André would reach over and tease high on my thigh, getting me riled up all over again.

He sat next to me, tickling the seam in my jeans while I was somehow supposed to eat. The butterflies raging in my stomach didn’t like that idea.

After a long, grueling meal, André finally took me back to his apartment. But upon walking through the front door, I was hit with the crushing reminder that I didn’t actually live there. I hovered awkwardly in the middle of the living room, arms loaded with shopping bags. “Where should I put these?”

André kicked off his shoes and took the bags from my hands. “What do you mean?”

I wiggled out of my new sneakers, oddly missing the worn-in feel of my old ones. “Well, I don’t exactly live here… I don’t want to take up any of your space.”

“You could.” Seeing the panic on my face, he quickly added, “Someday. Eventually you could. I-It doesn’t even have to be here. We could find somewhere, anywhere…”

He stopped and took a deep breath. I smiled. Was he nervous? Then again, the idea of living with him permanently terrified me as well—but only because I wanted to do it.

“I don’t mind giving you space in my closet—what are you smiling about?” He laughed anxiously and ran a hand through his curls.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Fémen dyol ou! I’m not nervous!”

My stomach lurched. “I have no idea what you just said, but feel free to keep saying it.”

“Oh, now who’s nervous?” André wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned down to press his lips to mine. “Let’s go put your stuff where it belongs.”

He led me into his bedroom and opened the walk-in closet. He flipped the light on and set the bags down to start arranging hangers. He handed me empty ones while he swapped his jeans to another rail.

“You really don’t have to give up your space for me.” I began to start threading things on to hangers, passing them off as I did so.

André shrugged. “I don’t mind. I only put my stuff there to make it look less empty. It’ll be nice to see your stuff around.” He leaned over to kiss me, then swiftly ducked away. “I never realized how lonely this apartment was.”

André turned his back to me, pretending to fuss with the clothes. I dropped the sweatshirt in my hand and spun him around to face me. “God forbid you let yourself be vulnerable for half a second.”

He picked a hand up and brushed through my hair. “It’s scary,” he confessed in nothing more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt so exposed with someone.”

“You don’t have to explain that feeling to me. I packed up my life and moved to another state with someone after two hook-ups.”

“I’m really trying to prove myself to you,” he hushed, lips brushing mine, tantalizingly out of reach. “But it’s really difficult without knowing what’s expected of me.”

“The only thing I’ve ever known is pain. You haven’t given me that so in my book, you’re doing everything perfectly.”

André sealed his mouth over mine, turning to push me against the doorframe. Hangers clattered to the floor. I dropped my jaw, letting our tongues meet briefly before I reluctantly pulled away. “Fuck me like the first night,” I panted, breathless and dizzy from the one kiss.

“What do you mean?”

“Before you knew about my past—before you were worried about hurting me. If there’s a time where I want to be able to forget, I want it to be when we’re in bed.” I took his hand, guiding it south until he cupped my erection in his palm. I sighed, “Help me forget, André.”

André’s eyes darkened with lust, a primal urge lurking beneath the sparkling pools of green. The monster was back, and he was waiting to be released. “Safeword?”

I muttered the word, pushing onto my toes to kiss him. He gripped me under my ass, lifting until my legs wrapped around his waist. He glided across the room, laying me across the bed and placing one knee on the mattress to stretch over me.

“Turn,” he ordered, tugging off my shirt and tossing it aside.

I pivoted on the bed until my head was on the pillows. He gave me his thigh to grind against, reaching into the nightstand and emerging with a bundle of red satin.

“Give me your hands.”

I held out one at a time and allowed André to tie me to the bed frame. The restraints weren’t tight, but damn they held on. I tugged, and satin dug into my skin. I whined, wanting to feel his skin under my fingertips.