Primal Pursuit - Page 182

Into the night.

“The two of you are fucked up,” Jackson tells us, three weeks later.

I look at him as he finishes the tattoo on her neck. I give my tied-up spread-eagled rabbit what she wants. I thrust into her one last time and turn on the vibrator in her ass. We both come. Hard.

I got bored just playing with her and decided to up the ante, fuck her in front of an audience.

“Oh, God…oh, my fucking God…that was…something,” she pants.

Kissing her nape, just below where Jackson’s put the bandage, I pull out of her. “I know.”

Then I lookat him.

“She wanted this, not me.”

“He wanted it, too.”

Jackson cleans his tools. “Again. You’re both fucked up.”

I pay the man, and I help Poppy dress, and we leave. As we head to the car, she looks at me, and I just draw her in, kissing her.

“Are we? Fucked up?”

“Oh, Rabbit, absolutely.” I kiss her lips softly. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

At home, after we shower, I plan my next hunt of her. It’s going to be epic. But tonight, we’re staying in. The tattoo session lasted several hours. She had the last thorn colored and added a small green leaf on her rose.

I had the heart I carved tattooed on her, and a bite mark on her ass tattooed with ‘Rabbit and wolf.’ Her request.

On me? Poppies. Each one for every person I’ve killed for her, and she helped me pick out the tattoos for the other hits I did in Europe.

And on my wolf tattoo, over my heart, is a small white rabbit. Her. She’s my heart.

She lightly touches the white rabbit.

“You are, you know,” I say.

“What?”

“My heart.” I take her hand and keep it there. “I love you, Rabbit.”

“I love you, too.”

Her words cause this deep ache inside my chest, like my heart is suddenly too big and needs to break free. I never thought I’d be capable of loving someone as deeply as I do her.

I touch her cheek with the back of my hand, brushing my knuckles over her soft skin, down the side of her neck. “Who knew the little liar who walked into Myth that night with murderous intent would become my sweet, darling Rabbit.”

“You never know. I might still have the same intentions.”

“I have no doubt.” I let my fingertips glide down her shoulder, her chest, over the swell of her breast.

Her breath hitches. “You might wake up one morning with a knife against your throat.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” I start sliding a hand up her thigh because there’s never enough of her. My phone buzzes, and I sigh as I pull it out of my pocket.

“It’s a new job,” I say.

Her eyes flash. “When? Where?”