Page 52

With one final glare at his reflection, he ripped that door open. Shelby stood there, one foot away from him. His hands balled into fists because he was not going to reach out and grab her. He. Was. Not.

Her gaze dropped. She took in his sweatpants.

His damn dick saluted in them, so it wasn’t like they were much cover, but it was still better than just parading around in a towel. “It’s gonna happen,” he informed her bluntly. “The circumstances are shit. We just found a vic who’d been brutalized and you probably think I’m a sick fuck because my dick is hard right now—but it happens when you’re close. I find you sexy as hell. When I’m near you, I get hard. You’re wearing a robe and probably nothing under it.”

She edged back a step. Her hands weren’t in the pockets of the robe any longer. They had been at her sides, but now they lifted, and she pulled the two sides of the robe closed near her chest. It had been gaping open, giving him a peek at the curves of her breasts.

I am an asshole.

“I shouldn’t want you right now. But I do.” Again, savage honesty. “I’m also furious.”

She took a few more steps back.

He followed her. “I’m furious that this bastard attacked Tiffany Blake. I’m furious that someone took a shot at you in New Orleans.”

She bumped into the side of the bed.

“I’m furious because I’m fucking afraid,” Hunter confessed. “I’m afraid that he has you locked and loaded in his sights, and I will never, ever walk up to a scene and find you dead. That just won’t happen. I won’t let it.” It can’t happen.

“Yeah.” A raspy release of her breath. “I won’t let it happen, either. I don’t intend to die.”

He stared at her. She stared at him. His teeth ground together, and he growled, “Don’t be afraid of me.” That damn obsession talk had put a wall between them. He could see it. “I will never hurt you. I’m not an obsessed stalker who wants⁠—”

“To wear my skin?” she finished.

“No. Fuck, no. I told you before, I will annihilate any bastard who tries. I will destroy anyone who hurts you.” Ease up. Hunter knew that he needed to ease the hell up. Only his control was in tatters. He’d had Tiffany’s blood on his hands. She’d been so small. So…broken. And that will not be Shelby.

Except, Shelby had already been through that hell. She’d faced it on her own seven years before. Faced it. Survived. Locked up the bastard who’d hurt her.

So who just killed Tiffany Blake?

He sucked in a breath. Then another. “You hired me to be your bodyguard. That’s what I’m gonna be. I will protect you every moment. I will stay by your side. I’ll be your bodyguard and partner in this investigation. I know you don’t want to let Tiffany’s killer stay on the loose⁠—”

“I don’t.” Determined. “Especially since we both know he’s connected to what happened before.”

Yes.

“Don’t end our partnership,” he told her. “You’re in danger. I want to keep you safe.”

Her head angled, the right side coming closer to him. She’d taken out her hearing aid when she entered the shower earlier, but she’d put it back in place. He could see the edge circling her lobe. “Is that all you want?” Shelby asked.

I want you.

“You don’t want to wear my skin. Glad we cleared that up.” Brisk. “I received all sorts of letters and emails over the years. Some were threatening. Some were harmless. Some were from people, though, who desired something quite different from me.”

“Like Andre?” The question pulled from him.

“He wanted to fuck a final girl and write a tell-all.” She kept her head angled toward him. “Is that what you want?”

“I have zero interest in a tell-all. Didn’t we go over the whole confidentiality part of our arrangement? I’ll carry your confidences. I’ll take them to the grave. I will not betray you.”

Her little pink tongue came out and licked along her lower lip. Her gaze locked hard with his. “But what about fucking me?”

I want that more than breath.

“You want to fuck the final girl, Hunter?”

“No.”