Page 12 of Hunt You Down

“I don’t know,” Dylan said. “He’s looking at his phone—he’s probably lost. You know how visitors get in this complex.”

Dylan got about six feet ahead of me before he realized I wasn’t moving. He looked between me and the man at the door.

“David, look at that hair, it’s not Regan.”

With his arm around my shoulders, Dylan guided me toward the door. Panic cleared, and the image in front of me formed. No, those dark curls definitely didn’t belong to Regan. Damn, he was tall—I’d only ever met one person that I needed to crane my neck to see. His body was hidden under a thick winter coat, an expensive winter coat. Once we got within three feet of him and he raised his head to look at me, I combusted.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

Chapter Seven

The only thing I wanted to do when I locked eyes with that man was cry. Thankfully, I refrained. My memories from New Orleans had been my saving grace; my light in the darkness. But all the mint juleps in the world couldn’t bring that back. No, I needed something more, and now it was standing right in front of me.

Dylan skirted around us. “I’ll be inside.” Frankly, I’d forgotten he was there.

I never broke eye contact with André, only speaking once the apartment door clicked shut. “How did you find me?”

“Dylan called; said you could use a pick me up. Why don’t you let me buy you dinner and you can fill me in?” As he spoke, André strolled closer.

“Do we do that?” I asked, nervous. I never expected to see him again, much less on my side of town, asking about my problems.

“We can.” André removed his hand from his pocket, wrapping his arm around my waist. I happily leaned into him, resting my head on his chest. His lips brushed my hair, and tension melted from my body. He dropped his voice to a comforting whisper. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do. Whatever you want to do, we do. I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

With the last word, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head. My eyes burned, and I squeezed them shut. I was not going to cry in front of this man. For a while, we stood there under the crappy outdoor lighting. André held me, rubbing soothing shapes across my back. A strong gust of wind blew and I shivered, wiggling closer. “Are you okay darlin’?” he cooed.

My stomach fluttered. “Just cold.”

“Why don’t you go in and change before dinner?” André fingered the collar of my scratchy shirt. “Put on something a bit more comfortable.”

Ugh, happily. I was going to burn those clothes the first chance I got. “Come in.”

I led André inside, closing the door behind us. The apartment was pleasantly warm, and the smell of coffee wafted in from the kitchen. I called out for Dylan as André helped me out of my jacket. A light turned off down the hallway and Dylan walked into the living room.

“I thought you two would have been out of here,” he commented with a knowing grin.

“We are as soon as I get out of these clothes.” I turned back to André. “You want some coffee or anything while I get changed?”

“No,” he whispered, taking my hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. “Just you.”

I didn’t think I could blush any deeper, but I did. It crossed my mind to say screw it all and lock André in my bedroom for the night.

But with a hand on my waist and a dirty whisper in my ear, he put a stop to that. “I see that look on your face, baby. Go into your bedroom, get changed, and pack an overnight bag. Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet if I paid you.”

André’s tongue darted out and drew my earlobe into his mouth, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. My knees buckled, his hand the only thing holding me up. “Yes, sir,” I huffed.

André relaxed against the front door, watching me. I took backward steps toward my bedroom, his lust-darkened green eyes on me the whole time. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. I could infer exactly what he would have said: “Hurry.” Getting through an entire meal without jumping him was going to be hard work.

I swiftly swapped my court clothes for a dark long-sleeved tee and a half-decent pair of jeans. After making sure my hair was… acceptable, I slipped into my leather jacket and sat on my bed to lace up my old canvas sneakers.

There was a soft knock at the door, and I rushed to unlock it. “I’m sorry,” I said, finding André on the other side. “I was taking too long, wasn’t I?”

“Relax baby.” André put his hands on my hips and tugged me close. “I just couldn’t keep my hands off you for more than five minutes.”

I let myself relax into his arms, resting my head on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Before I could say anything else, my stomach rumbled, making André laugh. He released me long enough for me to throw some clothes and my toothbrush into a backpack before taking my hand and leading me out of the room. “Let’s get you fed.”

Living blocks away from River Street, we walked. It was a nice night out. We strolled through the streets hand in hand, neither of us speaking. We didn’t need to.