Page 71 of Hunt Me

I like this too.

He traces his hands across my collarbone and then splays his fingers across my chest.

‘What are you going to do with this space?’ he asks, leaning back slightly so I can see him.

‘Don’t know. That’s more Percy. He has all sorts of vision. I don’t have that. I just want my coffin garden and a quiet place where no one can bother me.’

‘That sounds nice.’ His gaze travels to the gate that leads to the orchards on the other side.

‘Are those yours?’

‘No, that’s the neighbors’.’

‘What are they?’ His fingers are light in his signs, wondering.

I fight the urge to snag his hand and kiss his fingertips. ‘Peaches.’ I don’t know the sign for that, so I spell it.

‘I love peaches.’

He shows me the sign, gentle fingertips on the cheek. ASL is so much softer than I am. It’s a strange juxtaposition in my life, but it keeps me grounded when I can’t or don’t want to find my voice.

‘Want to go out and steal some?’ I ask.

He meets my gaze, and I worry I said something wrong, but then his lips twitch up in a small smile. ‘Yes, can we? I’d love something sweet right now.’

He hops off my lap and holds out his hand. I slip my fingers through his, letting him tug me up, and then I lead him to the back gate. It’s not locked, and I think perhaps I should get one since Denver has a stalker after him and as much as I want to believe I can be with him every second of every day, I’m not foolish enough to believe that’s true.

I push the gate open, and we slip through into the field, the coolness of the early summer night brushing across my skin. I turn on my flashlight and let the beam guide us.

We need it to talk too, so when he taps me on the shoulder, I turn toward him.

‘Do you think we’ll be caught?’ he asks.

‘Don’t care.’

He lets out a sweet laugh as we make our way deeper into the rows of peach trees. Their branches cover us, heavy with fruit, the smell intoxicatingly sweet. Sometimes when there’s a breeze, I can smell them from the backyard.

I like the scent. It makes my mouth water.

My eyes flick from where Denver is walking slightly ahead of me to his ass. It’s quite a peach, I think. I wouldn’t mind taking a bite. I don’t say that, though, and continue to let him guideme, my light flickering up into the trees so we can spot the best peaches.

And then suddenly, he stops, reaching up and cupping a fruit. He studies it for a moment, his thumb brushing along the faint fuzz on the peach’s skin, and then he twists it. I hear the soft snap as he pulls it from the branch, the leaves rustling above us.

When his gaze meets mine, I see a twinkle in his eyes. He lifts the fruit and brushes it along his mouth before taking a slow bite. Juice drips down his chin, sticky and sweet, and my feet move before I’m aware of it. I step toward him and lean forward without thinking, lapping the sweetness up with my tongue. His breath hitches, and when I step back, he holds the peach out to me.

Holding his wrist, I sink my teeth into the soft, almost overripe fruit, and the flavor explodes over my tongue. Normally, I don’t like this. It’s usually too much, but with Denver’s eyes on me, the entire world narrows down to him, and I barely notice as I chew and swallow.

‘Good,’ he signs, and then he slides his fingers into his mouth, lapping up what’s left of the juice from his skin.

My heart rate increases as I watch his tongue move across his digits, and unable to stop myself, I pull his hand from his mouth and lick up his palm. He tastes so much better than the fruit.

Denver’s eyelashes flutter, and in the light of the moon and the flashlight in my hand, he looks ethereal. Like a fucking angel, which is something I know I don’t deserve.

But I don’t care. I don’t really subscribe to social morals, and Denver is mine. I’ve claimed him. My lips find his, and I kiss him roughly, my tongue pushing into his mouth, tangling with his. He moans into me, and I swallow it down as I wrap myhands around him, grabbing onto his ass and grinding him up against me.

He feels like heaven.

I love the way he shivers and shakes at my touch. And not in fear. In complete surrender.