Page 145 of Only the Hunter

“That’s not what I mean.” I begin undoing the buttons on his shirt. “Don’t hold back with me.” I tug his shirt tail out. “And I’ll return the favor.”

“Evie.” His voice is low and rough around the edges.

“I know,” I say. Because I do. I understand the weight of what we’re walking into and I’m choosing it anyway. I’ve been choosing it in increments without letting myself admit it. “I know.”

He kisses me then—deeper than before, one hand sliding into my hair, the other flat against my lower back, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the tension in him, the deliberate restraint he’s still keeping even now, and I want to dismantle it piece by piece.

He lets me remove his shirt, and the undershirt, and then his hands find the buttons of my cardigan—methodical, unhurried, like he’s determined to take this apart slowly whether I cooperate or not. He pushes it off my shoulders.

“Okay?” he murmurs against my temple.

I’m so done with that. I spin him so he’s the one with his back to the bed and work his belt buckle.

We’ve done a lot, but I haven’t yet tasted him.

The belt buckle angles down upon release, and I undo the button and the zipper. I press up on my toes, taking his mouth as I release his hard length.

When I break the kiss, I pause for a moment, my grip tight around him, and stroke, his gaze locked on mine.

I guide him back a step, until his legs meet the mattress, and he sits, feet flat on the floor.

Then I slowly kneel.

I flatten my tongue against his shaft.

My tongue circles his crown, taking in his salty taste.

He’s transfixed. The comforter gathers where he fists it with one hand, while the other brushes back my hair.

I take him deep and hear his groan.

It doesn’t take me long, working him with my mouth and my hand at his base before he stops me on a gasp.

I peer up, questioning.

“That feels amazing. But that’s not how I want you. Not tonight.”

I push up from the floor.

His pants are undone, but he’s still dressed.

“Remove those.” I gesture with my chin. “And get on the bed.”

I can tell I’ve surprised him—and I don’t fight my smile.

As he tackles his shoes and pants, I remove my sweater. After returning from the senator’s office, I changed into something more comfortable, an outfit that’s easily removed, leaving me in only my bra and panties in under a minute.

Undressed, he falters, taking me in.

I point at the headboard.

“Get up there. Now.”

He smirks. Entertained. But based on the evidence at hand, very turned on. And he obeys.

I crawl up on the bed too, near his legs.

He reaches for me, but I remain out of reach, unsnapping my bra. The straps loosen, and slowly, one strap falls, then the other.