Hunter #2
His first kiss. Fucking hell, I’d never have picked that. “And that makes it different?” I ask, skirting around the other question I want to ask. Not having kissed someone doesn’t mean he hasn’t had sex. Some people don’t like the intimacy of the act when it’s nothing more than a fuck to them.
“Seems like it.”
It sounds like he doesn’t even know. What he’ll accept, and what he won’t. Xavier hasn’t pushed, and I can’t see anyone else being brave enough to. He’s never been given the chance to take it further, test his limits, find out where they even are.
“Being in control helps?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
“Is that your idea of an invitation?”
He tugs on my tie and pulls me forward, our lips meeting halfway.
I let him lead, keeping still with both hands either side of his head.
He explores slowly, with less pressure than last night.
Not in any hurry to take it further, to do more than feel me against him.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a kiss this soft, and I’d never have expected to experience it with Miles Whitlock, of all people.
His tongue flicks out, skimming my bottom lip.
I part for him, and he slowly eases in, deepening the kiss.
He still has a hand wrapped around my tie, the other hanging by his side.
I want to encourage him to put it on me, to touch, but spooking him isn’t my goal, and I’m more hesitant than I was last night.
Now that I know, I can’t put that information back in the box.
He pulls away too soon, and disappointment spears me.
“We should find that lizard,” he says against my lips, hand gliding down my tie and then away, leaving it hanging skewed. “Before anyone else shows up uninvited.”
He’s right, I know it. But it’s the last thing that I want to do right now. No, I want to finish this. Find out what it means, what the fuck we’re doing. Xavier brought him into this, and now there’s no removing him from the equation. And I don’t want to.
With reluctance, I pull away from him. “Any idea where a lizard might be kept?”
“I’ve never had a pet in my life.”
The only ones I’m familiar with are the dogs Jericho and his partners have, one a rescue from a crime scene, who gets away with murder, and the other an assistance dog who doesn’t stray far from her charge. Neither of them are like a lizard in any way.
The lizard in question isn’t in the living room or what looks like a study slash spare room.
We finally find him in what has to be Matthew’s bedroom.
It’s covered in a mismatch of warm brown, beige, and green.
Atop the tallboy is a large glass lizard enclosure that’s hanging inches off the drawers on either side.
Perfectly balanced and not heavy enough either side to tip over.
Not exactly the safest place in the world, but without children in the house, it’s not as much of an issue.
I wouldn’t dare put something like that in my house, for fear of Olivia running into it or knocking it off.
“Found the thing,” Miles remarks. “Matthew said something about a smaller enclosure to carry it in?” Except there isn’t anything in the immediate vicinity.
“Wardrobe?”
Miles nods and strides over as I make my way to the enclosure to see if I can spot the pet among the logs, rocks, and greenery in the glass tank.
He’s near a bowl of water, dozing on the fake grass.
He lifts his head at my approach, blinks at me, and then bobs his head twice, his neck expanding and retracting.
I don’t know what that means. Matthew said he doesn’t bite, but that doesn’t mean he won’t bite me. Animals can be picky in that way.
Miles makes a weird, choked noise, and I twist, heart climbing into my throat and my hand moving to the weapon at my side.
“What’s wrong? What is it?”
Miles holds up a small Hawaiian shirt that has to have come from a doll of some kind. “Does he dress up the lizard?”
“I have no idea.” The answer is clearly yes, though I can’t fathom why. “Are there other clothes in there?” I ask curiously. Maybe the shirt came with him from the pet store.
“Hats. Jackets. More shirts. A scarf? A bandana. That’s a hoody. Those are bunny ears. A shark outfit.” Miles blinks. “Does he need a therapist?” From the tone of his voice, he might need one after this.
“It might be for the kids,” I reason. “They’d get a kick out of dressing up a lizard.” If there’s something in there with a skull or a fairy on it, Olivia would be overjoyed.
“Right.” Miles still looks sceptical. I can’t blame him even if my explanation is more than plausible. “Do we take it with us?”
“Probably best just to grab everything.” To be safe. I’m not coming back here because we forgot a comb or something. Or… a specific outfit. Today has been interesting, to say the least.
Miles holds up a pair of wings with an elastic band that must be used to secure them in place around the lizard. He arches his eyebrows at me. I snatch it and throw it onto the bed.
“Just find a bag somewhere and pack it up.”
“I can’t look away from it. Did I mention there’s a leash?”
“Did you find the carrier for him?”
“Yeah, here,” he says, absently handing it over, still looking through Augustus’ wardrobe with a kind of morbid fascination.
I leave him to it, carefully transferring the lizard from his tank.
He’s docile in my grip and lets me deposit him with ease.
He does a circle and then lowers his head, watching me.
Miles has found a duffel bag and is shoving lizard items into it as well as clothing that is more human sized. When he catches me looking, he says, “He’ll need a change of clothes.”
He’s not wrong. Matthew won’t be able to come back here until we’ve sorted out this mess. It will be easy enough to get someone to come in and clean out his fridge, but he’ll need toiletries and clothing. Maybe a few books from the bookstand in the bedroom.
Whatever we forget, we can purchase for him if it’s urgent. Who knows how long this is going to last.