He chuckles, and proving he knows what he’s doing to me, Perry turns his head to run his nose over the hinge of my jaw. His breath ghosts torturously over my skin. “No idea what you mean.”

I groan, completely losing control of my cock that thickens at the contact. “Asshole.”

“Again,” he growls by my ear, hands tightening briefly over my wrists. “We’re not stopping until you hit it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

PERRY

Shit, he smells good. I think I’m torturing myself more than him at this point. Being wrapped around someone so tall and strong who smells like … I don’t fucking know. Dirt and sweat and the weird plant-based bath wash they have here shouldn’t be such a turn-on. But all of that smells so goddamn good on him.

I’m ninety percent confident it has nothing to do with the smell and everything to do with him. My cock is pressing flush against his ass, and I’m quickly losing the battle of not poking him with my hard-on. He has to feel it by now. Not that it matters—I’m not doing a great job of hiding how much I want him.

This time when I press my nose to his skin and inhale, a moan hums through my chest. St. Clare tenses against me, and then, so subtle I almost miss it, his head tilts to the side. My nose finds that crook behind his ear, and when I breathe him in, my eyes flutter closed.

He’s intoxicating.

He takes another shot, but I’m so consumed by him I barely notice. I’m tuned out to everything but the way his body is making mine react. Every little particle bowing toward him. Straining for contact. For attention.

“I …” His one word shivers with a breakdown in his control. “I got it …”

My eyes crack back open, and while his aim was completely off, he did manage to hit the tree. Not the target, but I guess I wasn’t specific about that. “You did,” I agree. “Very talented.”

Tension gusts out of his shoulders as he sets the safety and drops the gun on the grass before sneaking his hand between us.

Then he takes hold of my cock.

I choke on my surprise.

He rubs me through my pants as my hands relocate to his hips. “You really thought you could tease me like that?” he asks.

“If it’s any consolation, it was a tease for me as well.”

“It’s not.”

I grunt and rest my forehead on his shoulder. “Why can’t I keep my hands off you?” It’s more of a hypothetical, but I really am curious. I can’t remember ever wanting anyone this much. It’s consuming. So consuming it makes me forget the very real danger we’re in the second he touches me because if I die like this, I’ll be dying fulfilling my true purpose.