Page 1 of Hunting Gianna
Prologue
Knox
ThreeMonthsAgo…
I crouch at the edge of the tree line, lens focused on the curvy little snack as she flits around her campsite. Gorgeous. She's alone, just like she was last time, tight top riding up as she unrolls the tent and hammers in stakes, not even a whisper of a clue that I'm watching. Didn't expect her to show up today. But since nature delivered, I'm not one to refuse. My pulse is steady. My pulse is quick.
I'm only supposed to be here to check on Kairo's setup, his cam obsession with Harbor, because the sick fuck likes to record himhunting her. Creed was supposed to do it, but he’s covering my ass with the investors meeting I didn’t feel like going to. So, I’m here, setting up some new fancy as fuck hunting cams while Creed does my job trying to secure a new silent partner. Kairo is trying to expand the energy label into stupid markets like cars. Shit’s already oversaturated, but when Kairo actually shows up, he’s damn good atnegotiatingthe terms he wants.
Slade went back to Africa. “Just checking on the employees.” He had said.Yeah. Right.
Movement catches my eye and it snaps me out of my rapidly souring mood.
She bends, her shorts riding up just under her ass, close,so closeto exposing her pussy. Her dark hair sways over tan shoulders, muscles flexing, fingers twisting rope with deft precision. As she stands, she stretches, her arms high above her head before they swing down and she claps, moving on to the next stake. I adjust the focus on my binoculars, zoom in on her lips. She's singing to herself, teeth grazing her bottom lip, biting it just right. I stare too long. Forget to blink. I've seen her here before, mostly in passing, but something's different now. She’s got this… confidence thing she didn’t have before.
It both confuses and arouses me. No one has ever caught my attention like this. I don’t date. I don’t fuck around. I’m no stranger to one-night stands, but no one has stirred this sense ofneedlike this.
I pretend this girl is just a time-waster, something sweet to pass the hours until it becomes dark and I can tell Creed it’s too late to finish the set-up today. Just a curiosity, that's all. But there's a raw freedom in her steps, and my curiosity burns. I'm betting she'd have the same wild streak in bed. I'll find out. Already know. Her ass is perfect, round and tight above long legs, ending in wide set hips. She’s got curves, but she’s not shy about them.
I like that.
It's not like me to get distracted. They call me when they want things done. Fast. Efficient. I'm the finisher, the one who goes after something and doesn't let go till it's complete. I'm not the one with time to kill. With endless days to waste watching. And yet I stand here, training my lens on the way she arches her back. Knowing there are better things for me to do. Knowing the scent of her is what I'll want the most.
I'll get back to my real work later, once I've played this out.
The sun slides across the sky, and I'm still here, ignoring the buzzing in my pocket that’s most likely Kairo, asking why the fuck the feeds are still dark. He won't shut up. He won't let it go, and I love every minute of making him wait. He’s become quite the little fuck since he hooked up with Harbor. Missing our guy's nights to ‘stay in with his little writer.’
Disgusting.
She starts putting a fire together, kindling, a match, low, slow breaths, stoking the ember into a little flame before piling on thelogs. Her eyes find the sky as she sinks onto a log and a slow smile stretches over her lips.
Plump lips. Perfectly pink lips. Ones I want wrapped around my cock.
That pulse, that snap of interest, turns into a long, slow boil, a constant buzz in the back of my skull.I want her.The thought strikes through me and I don’t know how I feel about it.
All I know is that I want to feel the beat of her heart through her neck and see if her skin tastes as sweet as it looks.
A snap decision and now I know what I’m going to do. Tomorrow I’ll finish the feeds, and then I’m going to watch this pretty little thing for a couple of days before I make her mine.
She needs a name, and I know just who to ask for it. I send a picture to Noah, expect a quick reply. Minutes pass. Hours. Just as I'm ready to burn down the world, my phone buzzes. He says some stupid shit and he’s close to losing his head if he keeps with the attitude. Then finally, the file. Gianna Valentina. 28. Cruise ship waitress.Delicious. He says she was at the retreat before. Five years ago, and that he gave her permission to tent because she prefers ‘the real deal’.
Gianna Valentina.The name is a fine wine rolling across my tongue.
When she finally crawls into her tent, when the last light fades, I don’t move. I don’t blink. I stay until I know she's asleep, andthen I head to the cabin, her body still burned into my brain, the gold of her skin still flashing against my eyes.
She thought she'd come here to get away from it all.
She's about to find out exactly what she ran into.
Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I ignore Creed’s texts and go to our group chat. The boys are sharing photos of their lates conquests, but I don’t give a fuck. I tell them I’m using the cabin and not to come here and then shut my phone off before the questions can begin.
Now it’s time to prepare for the arrival of my little bird.
Present
I’ve watched her for the last three months. She was away on her cruise, with that idiot boyfriend of hers who didn’t know his head from his ass. The same one who shacked up with the bar tender every chance he got. Gianna didn’t know, though I’m sure she suspected. It wasn’t hard to convince Creed to hack the cameras on the ship. All he wanted in exchange was for me to beat some fuck half to death. Apparently the guy scratched his Maserati and laughed about it.
So, I beat this guy, snapped the pictures and off Creed went with that psychotic little mind of his. I swear to God if he’d been a half decent guy, he’d have made a good detective.
