Page 33 of Hunt You Down

“But if you look at that tag, I know you’re going to put it down. So get it, and we’ll worry about payment later.”

Still, that didn’t stop me from trying, though I gave up when the total hit triple digits. I didn’t want to think about it anymore.

André even replaced my old canvas shoes, convincing me to wear the new ones out of the store so my decade-old pair could be tossed immediately.

In the fancy department store, he had me fitted for a suit: a navy blue Gucci one and when I tried to see the price on that… Well, that glare would have turned anyone to stone. André had the foresight to lend me a black pair of socks but when it came to the tie, I was lost. I’d only ever had clip-ons before. The salesperson helping us gave me a funny look when I walked out with it draped over my hand, but André didn’t miss a beat.

Before I could utter a word, André had me turned around and was giving me a quick rundown on how to tie it.

After I was measured, pinned, and the suit was whisked away, André insisted on me waiting outside while he paid.

I took the opportunity to find a bathroom, and tossed my old clothes while I was in there.

It was strange. I hadn’t had anything new in so long. I forgot what new jeans felt like. They fit like a glove, hugging my hips and thighs in a way that André loved—if the way he fondled me in the dressing room was any indication. My heart fell into my stomach, but it made me want to get him somewhere private so he could do it some more.

Even though I knew my old clothes were clean, somehow putting on the new ones just felt better. Slipping a new t-shirt on, I could breathe easier. I felt myself standing a little straighter.

I startled when the bathroom door swung open.

My heart thundered, goosebumps pebbling over my skin. Something wasn’t right. “André?” I called. No answer. Heavy footsteps stopped in front of my stall.

I wondered if the person could hear my heart beating out of my chest. I froze. Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes—then they continued, locking themselves in the stall next to me. I didn’t look down to try and see what shoes they were wearing. I hardly paused to wash my hands before bolting from the bathroom—and nearly colliding into André’s chest.

“Whoa! You okay?” he asked.

“Fine.” I took a deep breath, trying to get my heart rate back down.

Only, once I saw the look André was giving me, it raced for a different reason. His eyes raked over my body, lip drawing between his teeth. “Damn, baby; you look good enough to eat.”

André took me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my temple. And just like that, the mysterious person from the restroom was forgotten. When André pulled back, I noticed that there was another bag mixed in with my shopping—one that hadn’t been there before. “What’s that?”

“I got you something,” he said, handing over the tiny black bag.

“You’ve gotten me a lot of things today.”

“Hush and open it.”

I did. Inside was a navy cellophane-wrapped box. I pulled it from the bag, immediately recognizing the swirling silver script across the front: Smokey Blues.

“André!” I scolded. “This stuff is really expensive!”

“And I just sold a two-million-dollar property. Let me treat you. I found the bottle in the pocket of your jacket. This had to be what you were wearing the night we met.”

André set the bags at our feet and unwrapped the box, letting the sleek blue bottle fall into his palm. “Give me your wrist.”

I handed it over. André sprayed it lightly, bringing it up to his nose to inhale as it reacted with my skin. That one light spritz was enough for the smell to surround us. I took in a deep breath, and was instantly transported. The smoky, leather-tinted scent wrapped around me. André hummed, a low, rumbling sound that had my cock thickening. I squirmed. In the new form-fitting jeans, an erection would be more than noticeable.

“I’ll never forget this smell,” he whispered, softly pressing his lips against my skin. A wave of desire pulsed up my arm, through my body and directly to my crotch.

“Can’t we just go home?” I pleaded, trying to give him my best “fuck me” eyes.

André flashed me a dirty smile, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Not yet, baby. I need to feed you.”

“It’s not food I’m hungry for,” I grumbled.

As I sat down at the restaurant, I thought briefly about the footsteps in the bathroom—no one ever did come back out.

Chapter Sixteen