Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

Apparently he was distracted too.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Lie,” he called me out immediately, though his expression softened. “May I come into your metal box now?”

“The truck?” I snorted, “Yeah, man. No one’s stopping you.”

Mutt bobbed his head, obviously still distracted as he zoomed around the car again—far faster than any human would be able to. He pulled the passenger-side door open, his tail thumping against the metal as he slid in unceremoniously. “You are correct,” he agreed, like I was an absolute genius and should win a fucking award. “No one is stopping me.”

“Right.” It was just a phrase, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I turned to face him.

Act normal.

Focus.

Don’t freak out.

Who cares if Blair knows you’re a nutcase?

You’re fine.

Mutt couldn’t have shown up at a worse time. I was not in the mood to be sexed up right now. Well…that was a lie. I was always in the mood to be sexed up by him. Exhibit A: my hard cock, and the tingles running up and down my spine because of the kiss he’d left on my neck.

But still.

The reason Mutt was so distracted quickly became clear when he shoved something into my hands. It took me a second to realize what it was, my brow furrowing as I stared down at an…Easter basket?

“What is?—”

“You will no longer be distressed when you see what I have picked for you.” Tail thumping, Mutt leaned into my space nosily. “Open, open, open.”

“You…got me this…Easter basket?”

“I do not know what an Easter is,” Mutt’s tail continued to beat a steady drum behind him. “But yes. It is a basket. A sex basket. Because we had sex. And you are so sweet, and pretty—and good. And your hand is the perfect size to hold my knot. And you smell like oranges. And you are sad—and deserve good things. And I woke up today, and all I wanted was to make you smile.”

I woke up today, and all I wanted was to make you smile.

“Right.” That was the sweetest shit anyone had ever said to me. I didn’t want to be rude—even though I felt like I was falling apart—so I began to pluck at the…newspaper that covered the top of the basket. Some of my nerves began to melt away, excitement taking their place.

“I used the fanciest paper I could find,” Mutt declared proudly. “Lots of pictures and designs.” He pointed at an article that talked about global warming. “That is the earth.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, because it was.

“Over here is a guitar,” Mutt tugged the paper over and showed me an ad for the open-mic night I often attended in Ridgefield. “You love guitars.” He looked so fucking proud that he knew the name of the instrument. Like he’d solved world hunger, or some shit.

So fucking cute.

Fuck.

“I do.” My heart fluttered as I finished pulling the rest of the paper away, and then just…

Stared.

Because…fuck.

No one had ever gotten me a gift basket before. Let alone hand picked and decorated one for me. And that was what this was—the sloppy paper and haphazard way it was put together proving that Mutt had done it himself. He’d clearly put a lot of thought into the basket.

“You got me soap?” I asked, my heart my throat as I pulled out the bottle.