Page 32 of Hunted


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“Ou!” is quietly hissed in a soft, familiar feminine tone prompting me to immediately release the weapon.

Inwardly sigh.

Why didn’t I just assume it was her?

It’s not like I forgot she’s in the goddamn apartment.

That shit’s fucking impossible.

The combination of her laugh, her making Kipp laugh, and the faintest smell of vanilla every time she fucking walks by are so fucking intoxicating, I could barely finish the one beer I managed to open at dinner.

Hell, because of that shit, I barely ate dinner.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I had that much fun during a meal.

Or at our dinner table.

Not to say that me and Kipp don’t have a good time together.

We do.

Car shit, mixed with the occasional sports shit, tends to be entertaining, but we don’t sit at the table.

And we damn sure don’t usually sit that fucking close.

Never with a woman wedged between us.

I’m not entirely sure what the fuck is going on here.

Not entirely sure I hate it.

Not entirely sure The Kid does either.

What I do know?

Each of us touching her…at the same time…felt…like the rightest shit I’ve ever felt in my whole life.

And that?

That’s fucking unsettling.

Not because there’s anything wrong with being attracted to The Kid or Bunny or both at once but because the three of us being together…for just…a fucking moment…shouldn’t have me convinced that that shit is the way it’s supposed to be.

Like every fucking twisted thing up to this point in life was building to this.

Life isn’t a goddamn Rubix Cube.

And us…together…isn’t the fucking thing solved.

Rolling over onto my back, I grumble my question just above a whisper, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I need to pee,” she replies at the same volume.

Yeah, when I left my bedroom door cracked open it wasn’t for that.

Then again, if I’m up front about the shit, I don’t really know why I did it.

Maybe I hoped she’d come in here?

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