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

“I said I would,” Mutt agreed, eyes bright. “It is better. Then I can smell you more clearly.”

“Right.” My palms were still slick with anxious sweat, but my nerves were fading away for the moment as I stared down at the other gifts that were shoved tightly together inside the basket. “Um. Is this?—”

“A tunes.” Mutt declared proudly as I pulled out a handful of iTunes gift cards. “Butters said that if you like music you would like to buy a tunes.”

He said “a tunes” like it was the title of the card, and I couldn’t help but find that absolutely fucking charming.

“Thank you,” I said, voice wobbling a little. I wasn’t sure what about scentless soap and gift cards screamed “sex basket” but I appreciated it. I’d kinda expected sex toys or some shit. Not something innocent and sweet like this.

“I bought you many lubes,” Mutt added as I pulled out several unopened bottles. I stand corrected. “So that I may fuck you.” Mutt held up his fingers and wiggled them at me in a frankly obscene way. “Press against that spot inside that makes you whine.”

“Right,” I laughed, unable to help myself. My cheeks were hot.

Visions of just that assaulted me. What it would feel like to have Mutt on top of me, his weight pressing me into the bed, his teeth at the back of my neck, his fingers in my ass again.

Fuck.

Okay.

Yes.

That sounded amazing.

“What else did you get me, big guy?” I hummed, unable to bite back my grin. Mutt continued to wag his tail, leaning into my space as he happily poked through the basket with me, explaining each item with enthusiasm.

There was chocolate, because I got sad sometimes, and he’d seen a billboard once that one of his brothers had told him said chocolate was the perfect treat when one was down. Then he tried to force feed me the bar—until I gave in and began to munch on it while he showed me the rest.

A pencil, because I always broke mine.

Which he only knew because he’d seen the stack of snapped ones on the counter. Or maybe, because he’d been there in dog form three days ago when I was writing a song, broke one, called it a bitch, and threw it at the wall.

Mutt may have been a hunter, but he was not sneaky at fucking all.

There was a fuzzy wash cloth, because Mutt said it was the color of my eyes. A half-eaten bag of Cheetos that he’d gotten for “us to share.” A bouquet of flowers that he’d tried to make into a crown—and failed spectacularly. A new guitar pick that looked like an acorn—so I’d remember him while I was writing. And a dog toy—a fat little squirrel stuffed animal that squeaked when I pinched it. It was furry and soft, and the perfect size to fit in my palm.

“It makes lovely sounds,” Mutt told me proudly as I rubbed its fuzzy head. “Like when prey is dying.”

“Super lovely,” I agreed, not even lying—because there wasn’t a single thing about this basket that wasn’t lovely.

“Last but not least,” Mutt plucked a little scrap of paper out. It looked like he’d torn it from the newspapers, and there was a hastily sketched out marker on it. “Harry helped.”

“Harry is…?”

“Another brother,” he hummed. “I have four. Harry, Theo, Jules, and Butters.”

“Big family,” I replied, eager to have learned something new about him as I stared down at the scrap of paper. It took me a second to figure out what it was.

“Very big. The biggest. And it will only grow bigger soon,” Mutt declared proudly. “There are always pups in search of homes, and Mama is looking.”

“Is this your phone number?” I blurted out, brow scrunched. “I just…I mean, I assumed you didn’t have a phone.” Mutt often acted like he’d never spoken to a human before he’d met me. I guess I just figured, based on how frequently he talked about squirrels, he wasn’t the kinda dude to buy the latest iPhone.

I was apparently wrong, because that’s what he pulled out of his pocket, showing it to me proudly. “It is,” he said, flashing me a sunny, adorable grin. He looked so young. There was a weariness to him usually, but it was hidden, forgotten, like he didn’t know it was there at all. “So that you may talk to me.”

“Okay,” I said, heart thumping. “Yeah. That’s…I mean… That would be nice.”

“Here,” Mutt handed me his phone, waiting expectantly. “Butters told me that I will need your number too.”

The idea of texting Mutt quickly became my favorite thing ever. I bit my lip, buzzing happily as I typed in my name, and then my number, and shot myself a text. I tucked the paper with his number into my phone case for safe keeping, then handed him back his phone, suddenly shy.