Page 59 of Hunt Me
Then Alexi’s face fills the monitor.
“Fuck.” I reach for the keyboard to kill the connection, but he’s locked me out of my own system.
“Going somewhere,detka?” He’s shirtless, camera angled to show his bare chest and the hand wrapped around his cock. Already hard. “I’ve been waiting two hours.”
My throat goes dry despite everything I just discovered. Despite the evidence of government murder still open in my background windows.
My thighs squeeze together involuntarily.
“I’m busy.” My voice comes out breathier than intended.
“You need to be busy bouncing on my cock.” He strokes himself slowly, deliberately. “Not whatever the fuck you’re doing that’s more important than me.”
I watch his hand move along his length, remembering how he felt inside me.
“Alexi—”
“Don’t.” His eyes darken on screen. “Don’t make excuses. Get in your car and drive to my place. Or I’ll come there and fuck you in front of your roommate.”
Heat pools low in my belly. Wrong. This is so wrong on multiple levels.
“I need to finish?—”
“The only thing you need to finish is me.” He stands, giving me a full view of his naked body. “Thirty minutes, Iris. Or I’m coming to get you.”
My fingers dig into my desk edge.
“You can’t just?—”
“Twenty-nine minutes now.” His free hand grips the base of his cock. “And for every minute you’re late, that’s another hour I’m keeping you in my bed.”
I should refuse and explain what I found in the files.
But my body remembers his hands, his mouth, the way he made me come apart.
“This isn’t?—”
“Twenty-eight minutes.”
“Fuck it.”
I pull the plug on my computer, watching the screens go dark. All that evidence. All those files prove I’ve wasted years chasing the wrong enemy.
I can’t think about it right now.
I grab my hoodie off the back of my chair, shove my phone in the pocket, and head for the door.
“Where are you going?” Maya calls from the living room.
“Out.”
I don’t wait for her response.
The drive to Beacon Hill takes eighteen minutes. I spend every second trying not to think about Morrison’s files, about Project Nightshade, about how monumentally I’ve fucked up my entire vendetta.
Alexi’s building looms ahead.
I park in the underground garage, using the access code he texted me last week. The elevator ride feels endless.
