Page 46 of Theirs to Hunt (Girls Like Us #1)

Chapter forty-six

S he moves, sleep still clinging to her. Slow. Quiet. Barefoot across the hardwood floor. The shirt drapes halfway down her thighs, swallowing her frame. The most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen.

I should look away.

I don't.

She walks toward me, her eyes clear now but guarded, the remnants of last night's events still etched into her face. It's in the slight stiffness of her shoulders. The hesitation before she speaks.

"You stayed," she murmurs.

I hold her gaze.

"You were safe here." She moves closer, arms folded, not angry, just unsure.

She's wearing something that belonged to me, and that shouldn't matter as much as it does. But it does. She places her hand on my shoulder. A live wire. My hand finds her thigh without conscious thought. Not possessive. Just a connection. Reassurance, for her or for me, I'm not sure.

"You don't have to take care of me," she whispers.

I meet her eyes, steady. "I want to. You deserve that. And more."

Then she does something that splits me open in a way. I wasn't prepared for the emotional punch.

She climbs into my lap. No hesitation. No flirtation. Just need. Her arms loop around my neck, her cheek pressing against my collarbone. And then she exhales, a long, trembling breath that tells me more than any argument or apology ever could. She lets go.

And for a moment, I freeze.

Wrapping my arms around her, one around her waist, the other cupped gently at the back of her head. She fits against me. Made to be here. I can feel the tension bleed out of her slowly, her heartbeat syncing with mine.

Her skin is warm, her thighs bare against my slacks, her breath soft against my throat.

I don't speak. I don't need to.

The ache that's been twisting in my chest since the night she stumbled onto that damn property eases just enough to let me breathe.

She never should've been there. Genevieve was only supposed to monitor her, report back, make sure no one touched her. Then she brought her straight into hell's front parlor and cashed the check it meant nothing. We paid her off. Shoved her across the country before I could break her jaw myself.

We almost didn't go that night. Had no interest in what the club was offering at least not since we laid eyes on Reagan. But a contract needed a signature. That last-minute clause… it brought her to us earlier than anticipated, but maybe we needed to move up our timeline.

I don't let myself dwell on what might've happened if we'd been a few minutes later .

I don't believe in regrets. I build a life that doesn't allow for them. And I won't start now.

This woman who refuses to be claimed is in my arms she belongs there. And fuck, I want to keep her here. I want to earn this. Every inch of trust, every sliver of quiet she gives me.

I press my lips to the top of her head, just once.

Not a claim. A promise.

She shifts just enough to murmur something into my neck.

I don't catch it all. Just three words. "Don't leave… yet." Not a demand. A confession.

"I won't," I say against her hair, tightening my hold. "Not until you ask me to." And even then, I'm not sure I could.