Head Hunter (City Shifters the Pack #3) - Layla Nash Page 0,31

drowning and I eventually found a life-line. The earth kept turning and the sun rose in the morning, and no matter how hard it was, I got up and went about my life. It was the same thing every time I went home for summer breaks and I had to be around those people and pretend to play by their rules. I pretended I gave a shit about fish knives and marrow spoons and grape scissors. I didn’t have the opportunity to do what I wanted and get away, so I had to accept the world as it was for a little while and gear up for the big move when I made it.”

I pondered his words. He wasn’t wrong, exactly. I couldn’t just curl up under my bed and pretend that the day had never happened. I had to figure out what I thought about the wolf-man and Deidre and guys who chopped up bodies. At least I had someone there to – kind of – help me. Dodge wouldn’t let anyone kill me, or he’d at least do his best to stop it.

I frowned as I rested my chin on his chest and studied him as closely as I dared, feeling rather vulnerable and exposed despite that he was the one who’d shared a deeply personal story. Dodge patted my butt and arched an eyebrow at me. “Well? You see what I mean?”

I nodded, though I still frowned, and when I didn’t speak, he exhaled a gust. Both his hands settled on my waist and squeezed me. “Persephone....”

“One question.” I tapped on his chest, like I struggled with an intense, existential conflict. “One really important question, though.”

Dodge braced himself; I could see that he expected something ridiculous or impossible. His expression grew guarded. “Okay.”

I gnawed my lower lip and fixed him with a serious look. “What the hell are grape scissors?”

Dodge just looked at me.

I pushed up on my elbows and tapped my chin. “I mean, do you use them to cut the grapes themselves? Or the stems? Why not just pluck the grape, or –“

“You wretch,” he muttered, and his hands abruptly slid up my sides in a tickling frenzy that had me howling and squirming to get away. “How dare you mock my cutlery heritage?”

Breathless, I flailed and gasped and tried to wiggle free. He was like a solid wall of muscle with half a dozen hands all teasing the most ticklish spots on me. I almost kneed him in the junk but managed to deflect so I only got his thigh. Dodge grunted at the close call before tossing me to the mattress and looming over me to pin me down.

I panted and struggled to breathe as he kept sliding his fingers along my sides, around my throat and shoulder and into the tender spot behind my ear, down to the back of my knee. Dodge was relentless; he had an intensity that would have been intimidating, if he hadn’t been chuckling and teasing and occasionally paused to brush a kiss across my lips or cheek or shoulder.

“Grape scissors,” he muttered, shaking his head and stretching over me as he pinned my wrists above my head. “You cut the stems, by the way.”

My brain short circuited as his knee pressed into the mattress between mine, nudging to part my thighs. I searched for a clever response. All I came up with was, “But can’t you just pluck them?”

His nose bumped mine as his head lowered, and I held my breath as his free hand teased the waist of my pants. “Plucking... gets the fingers messy.”

Oh shit.

Dodge took my earlobe in his teeth and gently tugged. His body settled on me, pressing me into the mattress with a comforting weight. He felt solid, warm... present. There. Unmovable. He felt more real than any other guy I’d been with.

My thighs relaxed, almost an invitation, and his eyes shone as they locked on mine. Something ignited between us. I wanted him. I really, really wanted to feel more of him against me. I wanted to know what other scars he had, whether his muscles were as impressive all over or just his shoulders, if he had any of his own ticklish spots.

He ran his fingers over my collarbone where my t-shirt had pulled down, and kissed the side of my throat. Then he sighed, rolled off me, and shoved to his feet. “You should get some sleep.”

I stared after him as he slid through the bedroom door and