Heartless Hunter (Crimson Moth, #1) (89)

He kicked the door shut behind them.





FORTY-SEVEN

GIDEON




IT WAS UNNATURAL, THE way he wanted her. Like nothing else in the world mattered more than bringing her upstairs, peeling her out of those riding leathers, and guiding her down to the bed. Like nothing mattered more than her. Maybe it was the brush with death, but even his little brother’s feelings were suddenly of no consequence.

Rune was everything that he hadn’t believed could exist in a girl.

He wanted her, and she clearly wanted him. She told him as much when she coiled her arms around his shoulders and lifted herself onto his hips. The breath shuddered out of him. His hands tightened on her thighs, pulling her closer.

Her mouth was soft and warm. Fierce and hungry. Undoing all of his restraint.

Harrow thought his desire for Rune was nothing more than witchcraft. That it prevented him from seeing the truth.

There’s one way to find out for sure, he thought, cupping her neck. Kissing her harder.

Did you look between her thighs? Because if I were a witch hiding in plain sight, that’s definitely where I’d keep mine.

Gideon needed to get Harrow’s voice out of his head, because the thought of being between Rune’s thighs made him stop halfway up the stairs, overcome. He pinned her against the wall, breathing hard as he debated unhooking her legs from around his waist, dropping to his knees, and going down on her right here in the stairwell.

No, he thought as Rune nipped his throat, struggling to regain his senses. You don’t even know what she likes.

She might not even know what she likes.

Gideon still didn’t know if she’d ever done what they were about to do.

Start in the bed, he told himself, bringing her the rest of the way to the second floor, where he opened the door to his apartment and carried her inside. He would start there, and if he proved himself worthy of her, maybe this could be more than a game. Not just flirting and kissing and courting, but a life shared. Maybe Gideon could have all of her.

But would she want all of him?

He was terrified to even hope for it.

Start in the bed.





FORTY-EIGHT

RUNE




RUNE HAD WORKED IT all out in her head on the way up the stairs.

She was the Crimson Moth. The girl who secretly saved witches from the purge. To keep saving them, she needed a permanent source of intel. And Gideon Sharpe was that source.

She needed him.

It had nothing to do with the way he growled her name against her throat. Or the way he worshipped her with every stroke of his hands. Or the fact that he thought she was most beautiful when she was a huge mess.

Rune needed to give in to this deadly attraction because it was the best way to make her worst enemy believe, with no more doubts, that she wasn’t a witch. That she had nothing to hide.

Tonight, she would put Gideon’s suspicions to death forever.

Tonight, she would win this game once and for all.

These are the things she told herself as Gideon carried her into his apartment. She had to. Because if she didn’t, a deeper truth would come roaring to the surface. A truth that asked: What if?

What if she wasn’t a witch and he wasn’t a witch hunter?

What if this didn’t have to be pretend?

Inside, he set her down and shut the door behind them. In the momentary absence of him, Rune took in her surroundings. Pale light from the streetlamps spilled through the windows, silhouetting the spare furnishings. Rune had the strangest urge to turn on the lights and commit every shelf, floorboard, and piece of furniture to memory. As if every object might tell her a secret about him. Rune wanted to know them all.

Gideon’s hand found hers. He tugged her through a door and into the room beyond. When Rune sighted the dark outline of a bed and realized where they were, her stomach tightened. She felt like she always did before a heist: equal parts nervous and excited.

He kissed down her throat, his fingers working the clasp at the top of her riding jacket. “Promise you’ll tell me if you change your mind …”

Arching her throat, she buried her hands in his hair. “I won’t change my mind.”

“But if you do …”

“Gideon.” Close to his ear, Rune whispered: “Less talking.”

He smiled against her skin.

His hands made quick work of her buttons, and her jacket loosened. Peeling it off her, he dropped it on the floor. Rune wore only a bralette underneath, the white lace illuminated by the pale light from the street.

At the sight of it, Gideon made a rough sound in his throat. Her whole body shivered in response. Rune tugged the hem of his shirt out from where it tucked into his trousers and slid her palms underneath, skidding up his warm, solid chest.

He worked at the button of her leather riding leggings as he kissed the hollow of her throat, the line of her collarbone, the skin through the lace of her bralette. Pulling her deeper under his spell.

When her leggings were loose enough, his hand dipped beneath the line of her underwear, sliding warm fingers between her thighs.

A tiny sound escaped Rune, who trembled beneath his caresses.

Gideon didn’t stop. Her fingers curled into her palms at the pleasure he was stoking. Her breathing turned uneven. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shirt, unable to think. No longer caring how dangerous he was. How bad for her.