Hunted (Riley Cray) by A.J. Colby

letting out a hissing breath as my bare skin scraped against the metal frame.
    In a tangle of flailing limbs and embarrassed curses I finally tumbled out of the window, my momentum knocking us both into the tub where we sprawled, awkwardly entwined. For a breathless moment I lay in the bottom of the tub, a multitude of aches and pains making themselves known all at once.
    “Well, that was exciting,” I said, pushing my limp hair out of my face to see him scowling at me.
    “Uh huh,” he hummed, disentangling his long legs from mine and levering himself out of the tub.
    Seeing that I was going to get no help from my sulking bodyguard, I clambered out of the bathtub as gracefully as I could, which is to say, not at all, and then stood uncertainly in the middle of the cramped bathroom. The only clothes in the room were currently draped over Holbrook, and he didn’t particularly look like he wanted to share.
    For a long moment we stood in uncomfortable silence, Holbrook having retreated to as safe a distance as he could manage in the small room, his back pressed against the door, and me standing next the tub rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. With the window missing the room was quickly getting cold and I wasn’t getting any less naked, my patience dwindling at the same rate as my body temperature.
    “Gimme your shirt,” I said, rubbing my hands along the backs of my arms in an attempt to get some warmth back into my limbs.
    “A simple ‘Thank you’ would suffice,” he replied. Making short work of the buttons on his flannel shirt he peeled it off to reveal the plain white t-shirt beneath, scowling as he thrust his shirt towards me.
    Closing the short distance between us I laid my hands on the stiff muscles of his shoulders, breathing deep to draw in the sweet smell of him and the faint hint of mint on his breath. I leaned into him, pressing my nakedness along the length of his body, luxuriating in the softness of his t-shirt against my stiffening nipples, and the roughness of his jeans against my thighs.
    Hovering a hair’s breadth from his lips, letting him feel the warmth of my breath against his skin I whispered “Thank you” before slanting my mouth over his.
    Some part of me heard the soft rustle of fabric as his shirt hit the floor, but the rest of me didn’t give a flying fuck the moment his hot hands settled on my bare hips, his fingers pressing into my skin with urgent need. His shuddering breath skittered past my lips, tickling the skin along my jaw and ruffling my loose hair. I purred into his mouth, my hum of pleasure vibrating through our dancing mouths.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    MY LIPS TINGLING from Holbrook’s bruising kisses, I didn’t even bother trying to hide my idiotic grin as I retrieved his shirt from the floor, shrugging the still warm flannel over my shoulders. Buttoning the shirt I struck a saucy pose, cocking one hip in his direction as I flashed him a salacious smile.
    “How do I look?” I asked, making a show of batting my eyelashes at him. I may have looked like I was having a seizure, but I figured I got points for effort.
    The widening of his eyes and paling of his cheeks wasn’t the response I’d hoped for, and for a heart pounding moment I had the horrifying vision of Samson crawling in through the open window behind me. My skin prickled in paranoia, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up straight as glanced back over my shoulder.
    The window was dark and empty. “What?”
    Holbrook raised a hand to point at my jaw, looking a little green. “You’ve err...got a little...something there.”
    Wiping a hand across the side of my face, I looked down to see a faint smear of blood coloring my fingers. Once upon a time I would have been mortified at having blood smeared across my face, but it had been eight long years since the wolf had first awoken. I was accustomed now to the taste and scent of blood. A stray drop or two on my face