Page 101 of Lethal Attraction

Reed

Silver moonlight dances across the brush of the forest, illuminating my way as I stalk through the night. Our rules are simple—Thalia hides while I try to find her. Whoever gets to the other first is victorious.

Is it a good idea to play this game with a trained assassin that I’ve seen in action? Probably not. At least ninety-five percent insane, actually.

But it’s the thrill we both love. She gets to exercise her skills, and I get to praise her for all her hard work. It’s a win-win.

Something overhead rustles, and I stop dead in my tracks. I listen to the sounds of the forest settling around me, and when I no longer hear the movement from above, I continue walking. Then the skin on my nape crawls as cold sweat slides down my back.

Wait.

She can probably climb trees—oh, fuck me.

Something knocks into me from above, sending me down to the ground so hard I almost bite the soil. Literally. Legs wrap around me as Thalia’s hands press into my shoulder blades. She giggles as she leans forward and nips at my earlobe.

“You cheated,” I wheeze.

“I adapted.” She shifts her weight, and I feel her smile against the shell of my ear. “The best hunters always do. How does it feel, Reed? Being prey?”

Her fingers on my upper back tighten just enough to make me groan.

“Answer me.”

“It feels—” I swallow. “Like I’m exactly where I wanted to be.”

She laughs—a low, throaty sound that vibrates through her chest and into my back. “Liar. You wanted to be the one pinning me. But your pulse is going wild. Your hips just twitched. You’re hard against the ground, aren’t you?”

She grinds her knee into my spine, torturing me.

“Yes,” I manage.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m hard.”

She releases me, but I don’t move. Her knee lifts from my back, and she flips me over with an ease that makes my head spin. Suddenly she’s straddling my hips, her thighs bracketing me like a vise. The moonlight catches her face—sharp cheekbones, pale eyes glittering, and that siren smile.

She’s still fully clothed—black tactical pants, a fitted shirt that hugs the lean muscle of her arms and shoulders. A sheen of sweat glints at her collarbone and her long, dark hair is mussed from the forty minutes we’ve been wandering around out here.

I feel utterly exposed. My thin shirt has risen up my torso and my belt is already undone—when had she done that?

“You’re so easy,” she murmurs, running her palm down my chest. Her fingers find the hem of my shirt and push it higher, baring my chest. “One little chase and you’re already surrendering.”

“You said you would go easy on me.”

“And you believed me.” She leans down, her lips hovering just above mine. “That’s adorable.”

She kisses me. Hard.

Her mouth is demanding, her tongue sliding past my lips before I can even think to respond. She tastes of mint and everything holy in the world. Her teeth catch my lower lip and tug, just enough to elicit a groan from me.

My hands find her hips. The tactical fabric is rough under my palms, and I can feel the coiled strength of her through it. She rocks against me once—a slow, deliberate grind that drags a sound from somewhere deep in my chest.

“No,” she says, breaking the kiss.

“No?” I pant.

“You don’t get to touch yet.” She catches both my wrists and pins them above my head. Her grip is like iron. “You chased me. I caught you. That means I decide how this goes.”