Page 33 of Art of the Hunt
And then there was the fact that someone was trying to kill him, and did she really want to get attached to a human with a short lifespan that, if some mysterious attempted murderer had his way, would be even shorter?
Yes, there would be plenty of people who would disapprove of her choice, and plenty of reasons they should, but Artemis had always been a free thinker. She wasn’t a conformist.
And she wanted to have sex with Hunter.
She lifted one shoulder. “Not this time.”
He chuckled and placed his plate in the dishwasher. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Don’t wait up if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’re beat. I know I am.”
“Okay.”
She scarfed down another quesadilla while watching him stride through the living room to the bathroom. As soon as he shut the door, she brushed crumbs from her hands and hurried to the bedroom.
While standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of the door, she changed her outfit half a dozen times, from black leather to white lace to red satin, trying to determine which look he’d prefer. Which sexy bit of lingerie would be so hot that his brain would short-circuit and he wouldn’t even focus on how she’d managed to change into something she had not brought with her to the apartment?
Definitely not the black leather. She didn’t want him to become incapacitated. Just turned on.
Finally, she crawled in between the sheets and lay her head on the pillow and waited for him to join her.
Chapter Eleven
“What are you doing out here?”
Hunter jerked awake and reached for the gun he’d tucked underneath the couch cushion. Then his brain kicked into gear —that was Artemis’s voice, not someone who had broken into his apartment.
A light flared to life, and he blinked rapidly. It was the same ball of blue light he’d seen at the massage parlor. Dragging his gaze away from the object that appeared to be suspended in the air, he took in Artemis, who stood over him scowling, arms crossed over her chest, brow wrinkled, eyes shooting sparks.
He stared at her skimpy, red satin and lace outfit. That wasn’t what he’d given her to wear to bed. That was something that had never, ever been in his apartment before, at least not since he’d signed the lease.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“Lingerie.”
“What? Why? How the hell are you wearing lingerie?”
“I’m wearing it for you,” she replied, not really answering his questions.
“You…why?” Not that he didn’t appreciate it. Or rather, would appreciate it if the circumstances were different. If he’d had some indication that she intended to seduce him or something. Not that he needed sex to be planned out, but a little warning would have been nice.
Christ, what was this woman doing to him?
She flapped her hand in the direction of the bedroom. “You changed your sheets. And invited me to sleep in your bed. Which I did, by the way. Is that why you are out here? Because I fell asleep?”
She was talking a mile a minute, and his brain wasn’t yet fully awake. What time was it, anyway? There wasn’t a halo of light around the blinds to indicate that dawn had arrived.
“Er…yes?”
“You could have woken me up. Youshould havewoken me up,” she snapped.
“Why?”
“So we could have sex!”
His jaw dropped open. He was surprised he couldn’t feel his chin scraping along the carpet. He closed his mouth, then opened it, then closed it again before shaking his head. “Artemis, I offered you my bed to sleep. Alone. I didn’t think—”
“That much is obvious.”
This was not the sort of conversation one should ever have before coffee. He shoved the blanket off his legs, conscious of the fact that he was wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts. But hey, she was wearing sexy lingerie, so he didn’t bother to pull on a pair of jeans before striding to the kitchen.
