Page 25 of Tracked By Hound

“Hound,” she chokes out, and her eyes pool with tears that have my heart clenching. Christ, I want to reach out and pull her into a hug, let her know how much I’ve missed her. I’ve been dying slowly, craving her more than I did my next breath, but I don’t know if my advances would be welcome.

Fuck it!

I step into the room and wrap my arms around her, yanking her hard against me. And suddenly the world feels right again. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent and letting it steady me.

“God,” I say in a shaky breath, tightening my hold on her when she tries to shimmy away. No, I’m done with the whole space bullshit. There will be no such thing between us again. Not when it makes us both this fucking miserable. “Just a little longer, kitten. Please.”

Chelsea stops moving, and her hands tentatively circle my waist. We stay locked in an embrace for minutes—hours, it feels like—before she pulls back, and this time, I let her go. She clears her throat and moves away from me, her eyes looking everywhere but at me.

“W-what are you doing here?”

“I came here to see you,” I say, letting myself inside. She sighs before walking deeper into the apartment, so I take off myboots and follow behind. “Your brother came to see me. He was ready to punch me for making his sister cry.”

Chelsea whirls around, horror in her expression, but I catch that beautiful flush I love so much. “What? Ransom had no right to tell you my private business!”

“He told me you got fired too,” I say, walking toward her, but she backs up a step, lifting her hand to stop me. “Chelsea—”

“Please stop,” she begs, before releasing a ragged breath. “It’s embarrassing enough that you found me looking like a homeless person, and now Ransom has been blabbering to everyone. I can’t…”

“Hey, don’t cry,” I say, horrified, closing the distance between us and drawing her into my arms despite her best effort to keep me away.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffs. “Fine, you probably figured that I have feelings for you, but it’s probably the Stockholm syndrome, and you’re here to what? Comfort me? I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not,” I say, pulling back so her eyes meet mine. “If you are suffering from Stockholm syndrome, then it seems I am as well.”

“What?”

“I let you leave, kitten, because I figured that’s what you wanted,” I confess. “That day, I wanted to punch your brother for coming for you. It took all my strength to not chase after you and beg you to stay, but Christ, I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t want.”

“I wanted to stay,” she admits, running her sleeve under her nose. “I thought you’d stop me. I wanted you to.”

“I’m sorry, Chelsea.” I pull her back into the embrace and hug her close. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I missed you.”

“I missed you,” she echoes, returning my embrace for long seconds before she breaks the silence. “It’s Lima syndrome.”

“Huh?”

Chelsea pulls back, and this time, there’s a smile on her face. “When a captor falls for the person they’ve kidnapped, it’s called Lima syndrome.”

Her mouth is moving, but I don’t register the words as all the emotions I’ve buried inside surface all at once, nearly knocking me out with their strength. “Fuck, I’m missed you, kitten.” I lift my hand to her cheek and cradle it, staring into the beautiful eyes of the woman I love more than life itself, before leaning down and bringing our foreheads together. “It’s been a miserable week for me too, Chelsea.”

“You should have come sooner.”

“I know,” I say, my hand trailing down her cheek, moving lower and groaning when I cup her tit to find she doesn’t have a bra on. My cock hardens in seconds, pressing against my fly. “I need to have you, baby. Now.”

Her hands circle my shoulder before she pulls me down, her breath puffing in needy pants. “Then take me.”

I slam my mouth down on hers, and I feel something inside me settle into place as she opens up for me, her grip on my shoulder tightening as we deepen the kiss. It’s feral and wet, two hungry people who have been starved for each other. I taste her tears on her lips, evidence of how desperately we’ve both longed for this. Christ, I should take it easy, love on her gently like the petal that she is, but Lord above, I can’t control myself.

Not this time.

“Need to be inside of you,” I growl against her mouth, pushing her back against the wall. My hands drop to her pajama pants and feverishly tug them down. They slip down her thighs, and Chelsea doesn’t break away from the kiss as she steps out of them. I drag my fingertips up her thighs, gently massaging her pussy to part her soft folds. She whimpers when my digit grazes her clit, and there’s surprise when I find her already wet. Her pussy is drenched. “Fuck, kitten, were you playing with yourself before I showed up—”

“Please don’t ask,” she says, mortified by the looks of it. “I can’t take any more embarrassment today.”

“What were you thinking when you were touching yourself?” I demand, sliding my finger into her entrance. She jerks against me, her mouth parting on a moan when I start pumping in and out of her drenched sex. “Tell me, kitten!”

“You,” she whimpers, burying her face in my shoulder as she rolls her hips to meet my thrusts. “There, are you happy now that you’ve embarrassed me beyond reprieve?”

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