Page 247 of Primal

But I have to know. I want to. Fuck.

She moans something—Please maybe, or More—and he answers by grinding into her.

I press a fist to my mouth.

It shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t burn.

But it does.

If it’s Kade under that mask … if he’s groping her right after he finished in me …

So she’s the main course and I’m the goddamn appetizer?

His hips roll into her. Same slow tease he used on me.

Not. Kade.

His hand slides from her waist to her throat.

My lungs stall. That move. The chuckle—smug, unmistakable. It’s him.

He drags his thumb across Jessica’s parted lips—

Her eyes roll back. She moans as he lifts her thigh over his hip and thrusts—rough, quick, cruel.

Could’ve been me. If I wasn’t standing here like a dumbass. If I hadn’t sent him off to fetch my stupid backpack.

Go. You don’t need to watch this.

I push away from the tree. Creep forward. Closer.

Jessica’s head tips back, and the hunter leans in, mask grazing her throat.

He’s hardly touching her. Just traces a gloved thumb along her collarbone. Her back arches. Her hips shift.

And he still doesn’t budge.

He’s waiting. My lungs seize.

Kade did that.

Pressed me against the tree and stayed there, hips flush against mine, letting me feel every inch of him without giving me what I wanted. Making me squirm.

His hand slips lower. Skims the line of her corset. Hovers just beneath the swell of her breast. And stops.

I swallow hard. Another step. Two.

Maybe he’ll see me.

Maybe I want him to.

Jessica’s clawing at his chest. “I—please … it’s in my back pocket.”

From this distance, the way her corset digs into her ribs with each breath is obvious. Her head thrashes side to side—not an act. The ‘Oh-shit-I-might-actually-die’ kind of struggling. Those little gasps sound less like pleasure and more like the time Kristy and I tried hot yoga after three margaritas.

“Back pocket.” Her voice cracks. “Please—can’t—breathe—”

Wait. She was asking about her inhaler earlier.