Page 4 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter four

I held a hand over my mouth as the man called Brooks approached. He had his father’s build but not quite his presence.

My skin pebbled when Spanish moss brushed my shoulder, like walking through a cobweb. I didn’t dare move.

The older man moved with lazy precision. The tiger his mask depicted, sleek and powerful, cut through the thick southern air without leaving a trace. He was lean, taller than Brooks, with just enough silver in his dark hair to scream take me, Daddy. Unfortunately, my exact type.

I stared at both of them, wondering if I’d hit peak TSTL, too stupid to live. They looked like they’d walked straight out of one of my morally gray romances. You know the ones: beautiful men, bad decisions, and you end up rooting for the kidnapping.

They were dark. Dangerous. Delicious. And there were two .

It took everything in me not to rub my thighs together and give myself away. Father and son. Naughty. The possibilities running through my head made me blush. My brain was already making excuses for them. They were obviously trying to protect me, based on what I overheard.

Right?

Right?

I bit my lip and listened to my inner idiot. Some people had angels on their shoulders. I had Dumb and Dumber sharing one brain cell and cheering me on.

Forget them.

I needed to make a choice for myself.

Because, yeah, my panties were damp. And judging by the cling of fabric against my skin, there was a wet spot on the back of my dress. Fantastic.

I waited. It felt like they were letting me go, judging by what I overheard and the way they walked off without doubling back. I’d puzzle it out later with Bobbie. Right now, I needed to get the hell home.

Glancing around, I started easing down the tree. Bark scraped my thigh. Damn it. I muttered a breathless curse and jumped the last few feet, heels clutched in one hand.

The second my feet hit the ground, I ran. I aimed for the hedge line, ducking into the shadows, and slipped through a break before dropping behind a row of trimmed azaleas. It wasn’t much cover, but it would do.

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and requested a Lyft. I didn’t want to bother Bobbie; she’d worked a double today. I just needed to survive ten more minutes without crying, screaming, or orgasming. In that order.