Page 66 of Hunt Me

“You’ve been staring at the same function for four minutes without changing anything.” He pulls me against him, tucking my head under his chin. “Rest, Iris.”

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounds me. My eyes drift closed despite my intention to stay alert, vigilant, ready.

“This is dangerous,” I murmur against his chest.

“What is?”

“This. Us.” I breathe in his scent—coffee and expensive cologne and something uniquely him. “Getting comfortable.”

His fingers trace patterns on my spine. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Maybe.” The admission costs me. “I could get used to this. Having someone who understands the work, who moves through systems like I do. Someone who doesn’t think I’m broken for living in code.”

“You’re not broken.”

“Most people would disagree.”

“Most people are idiots.” He tilts my chin up, green eyes serious. “You’re brilliant and lethal and perfect exactly as you are.”

The doorbell interrupts whatever response I might have made—probably something sarcastic to deflect from how much his words affect me.

Alexi extracts himself to answer, then returns with bags of food that smell incredible, spreading containers across the coffee table he just cleared of monitors.

Alexi pulls me back to the couch, settling against the cushions. He combines pad thai, curry, and spring rolls into one bowl, balancing the portions with surprising care.

Then he unzips his pants.

“What are you?—”

“Take your panties off.” His voice carries that edge of command that makes my pulse spike. “Come here.”

I should refuse. Should tell him we need to focus on Morrison, on Nightshade, on everything that matters.

Instead, I slip my underwear down my legs and straddle his lap, facing him.

His cock presses against my entrance, hard and insistent. He grips my hips, guiding me down slowly until he fills me completely. I gasp at the stretch, the intensity of being so full while he remains perfectly still.

“Stay just like this.” He picks up the bowl with one hand and the chopsticks with the other. “Open.”

My brain short-circuits. “Alexi?—”

“Open,detka.”

I part my lips. He feeds me a bite of pad thai, and the tangy, sweet noodles slide across my tongue. The domesticity of the gesture wars with the obscenity of sitting on his dick, creating cognitive dissonance that leaves me dizzy.

He takes a bite himself, chewing slowly while his free hand rests possessively on my thigh.

Another forkful for me—curry this time, rich and spicy. I swallow, fighting the urge to move, to grind against him. He’s completely hard inside me, and the stillness makes every small shift of weight feel electric.

“Good girl.” He feeds himself a spring roll, eyes locked on mine. “You’re already getting wetter.”

Heat floods my face. My body betrays me, slick arousal coating him as I struggle to remain motionless.

He offers me another bite. I lean forward to take it, the movement shifting him deeper. A quiet moan escapes before I can stop it.

“That’s it.” His pupils dilate. “Feel how perfectly you fit around me.”

I clench involuntarily. His jaw tightens, the only sign my body affects him at all.