Page 135 of Only the Hunter

My breath turns uneven.

“Gabe…” It’s a plea that I feel because I want her just as desperately.

I drag my mouth back to hers, deeper now. Hungrier. The kind of kiss that steals air and thought.

Her fingers dive into my hair, holding me there.

There’s no finesse to it. No teasing build.

It’s adrenaline transmuted into want.

My hands skim under the hem of her blouse, palms flattening against warm skin. She arches into the touch like she’s been waiting for it.

And fuck, so have I.

“I was so angry with you,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“I know.”

My thumb traces the line of her waist.

“I thought you didn’t trust me.”

“I trust you,” I say roughly. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

Her breath hitches.

The edge in her melts a fraction.

Her hands slide down my back, nails grazing lightly, and I feel it everywhere.

The kiss turns deeper. Slower. Consuming.

The world narrows to her hands, her breath, the press of her body against mine.

My forehead rests against hers for a second.

“You have no idea what that call did to me.”

Her eyes search mine. “Tell me.”

“It made me realize I don’t know how to breathe when I can’t get to you.”

Something in her expression breaks open at that.

She pulls me back down to her mouth.

The kiss shifts again—softer, but no less intense. Her fingers trace the line of my shoulder, down my arm, gripping like she’s grounding herself.

My hand slides higher along her thigh, skirt riding up under my palm, until I reach her damp panties, until the line between want and possession blurs.

The counter edge presses into my thighs. Her heels hook lightly behind my calves.

Every small movement sparks something hotter.

“Gabe,” she breathes again, and this time there’s no warning in it at all.

My mouth trails down her throat, to the hollow at the base, pausing long enough to feel her pulse racing beneath my lips.