The Hunter (Boston Belles #1)(55)

Because this is nature. Only the strong survive.

I almost took mercy on her then.

Almost.

Then I remembered my own goddamn family had an eat-your-young mentality—and the other part Nanny Number Six had mentioned: the tigress’ side. It was hungry, depraved, and wanted to stay just as alive as the zebra.

Hunters needed to eat to survive.





His fingers curled around my topknot from behind, tugging it with an expertise that frightened me until it became a ponytail.

He pulled my head back, extending my neck. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

I believed Hunter hadn’t touched Emily.

But she also served as a reminder of all the girls he would touch in the future. Our six months were going to be up before I knew it, and with them, his undivided attention. He would have other conquests to make, all of them in lands he’d yet to discover, with horizons he wanted to bask in. I was just a small island he was temporarily stuck on. Of course he wanted to sample its fruit.

Worst still, Hunter knew his effect on me, knew I would never rat him out. As much as I loathed how he attracted me, I also felt weirdly protective of him, especially where his father and brother were concerned.

I was going to keep Emily out of my weekly email to Gerald Fitzpatrick, cover up Hunter’s misstep, and pretend it never happened. Since the cameras were solely outside the apartment, and Emily reportedly came in and took off down the stairway, that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Open your eyes,” Hunter ordered sternly. His voice had a way of nestling between my legs, giving the organ between them a pulse.

My eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. He was a lonely prince—untouchable, yet in need of a hug. Brilliant, yet deeply misunderstood. Sitting on a throne of broken expectations and disappointment.

I wondered if he’d ever know he was smart and brave and goodhearted.

I wondered if I’d be the foolish girl to let him in on that secret.

I realized he was right. I was the archer, but he was the true hunter.

“Admit it,” he croaked, his face descending to mine from over my shoulder, his lips drawing closer, inch by inch, the heat of him tangible, blazing a straight path through my reservations, mortification, and logic. “This is happening. It is happening, and you’re frightened. It’s happening, and I’m not a part of your carefully laid-out plan. You don’t know if you have the endurance, or the guts to see this through when it’s time to say goodbye.”

My throat bobbed with a swallow. It hurt, but he didn’t let go of my hair. “You can survive this,” he whispered into my mouth.

“This?” I groused.

“Us. I have a glass soul, baby. Pretty to look at, but it breaks easily, can make you bleed, and nobody gets attached to it.”

I parted my lips, about to tell him he was wrong, but his mouth closed in on mine, his kiss a drugging potion soaking into me—slow, erotic, and teasing. It was nothing like our first kiss, but somehow twice as bewitching. I felt his hand snaking to my front, skimming past the outline of my breast, moving down until it reached my groin. He cupped and lifted me up to my feet, holding me between my legs, still kissing me as his fingers dug through the fabric of my yoga pants roughly. He pinned my stomach against the bathroom wall, grinding his erection between my butt cheeks through our clothes. A desperate moan escaped me. He swallowed it with another dirty kiss. He kissed everything away.

He is not going to be here to kiss it better when he dumps you after the deal is over.

He shoved his big palm into the front of my pants, and I groaned, disconnecting my mouth from his and pressing my forehead to the cold tiles as heat swirled inside me.

“I’m not a virgin,” I said. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I wanted to make sure he didn’t go gentle on me. I wanted the full Hunter experience, even if I knew I was going to regret it the minute we stepped out of this bathroom.

His cock jerked between my butt cheeks, his body molding into mine.

“Oh, yeah?” There wasn’t a hint of jealousy in his voice, only curious amusement.

I nodded, my forehead grazing the wall.

“How many?” he asked.

I wondered about the technicalities. Did we really break the celibate rule if Hunter and I just dry-humped? No. Not really. I mean, yes, it was wrong, but manageable. Besides, Gerald mainly hated how Hunter’s business was hanging all over the media. This would be our secret. Neither he nor I wanted it to leak past these walls. Hunter had his kingdom on the line, and I my career and reputation.

“One.” I gasped when his thumb and index found my clit, pinching it. The rest of his fingers slid past my wet entrance, gathering my need for him and rubbing it against my clit. His finger pads were warm, his stroke leisurely and skillful.

I felt like my insides were melting, one organ at a time. It wasn’t butterflies. No. More like moths, eating at me, consuming me completely.

Hunter kissed his way from my ear to my neck, down to my shoulder.

“Name.”

“Beau.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you love him?” His fingers did things inside me I couldn’t explain. I just knew no one had ever touched me that way. My whole body shivered, down to my soul.

“N-no.” I couldn’t lie.

“Did you like it?”