His gaze stayed locked on hers, and he urged her into a slow rhythm.
Heat coiled inside her. This was so much more, so intimate. They were so connected.
He slipped his hand down and thumbed her clit. She jerked, but he kept her moving, slowly bumping his hips into her, filling her deeply.
“Feel that?” he murmured. “That’s you and me, baby.”
“Hunter.” She moved a little quicker, and after another thrust, her hot, slow, strong orgasm hit her. She cried out his name.
Hunt pressed his mouth to hers. Kissing her, his body shuddered as they came together.
Chapter Fourteen
Hunt stayed sprawled on the couch, lazily stroking Savannah’s back.
She pressed into him, her breath puffing against his neck.
He’d gotten up to deal with the condom, but settled back on the couch with her on top of him. He’d be happy to stay right here for hours.
“Hell of a welcome home,” he said.
She laughed. “It wasn’t bad.” She kissed his neck. “Do you want me to cook tonight, or will we order something in?”
“Actually, we’re going out.”
She lifted her head. “Where?” A groove appeared in her brow.
“To a party.”
“Hunter, correct me if I’m wrong, but I have a killer stalker after me, and by extension, so do you. That’s why we’re here, in this very luxurious safe house.”
He kissed her nose. “Don’t worry. It’s a little party at Easton Norcross’ place. The man has brilliant security, plus pretty much all of Norcross Security will be there, as well as Hawke and my brothers. Added to that, a Norcross vehicle will escort us over there.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
He squeezed her hip. “I promise. Now, shower and dress in something party-ish.”
“When are we due?”
“In thirty minutes.”
She squeaked and leaped off him. “Only a man would tell a woman she has thirty minutes to get ready. Especially a woman with curls.”
“Actually, it’s less than that, since we have to drive there.”
She threw up her arms.
With a chuckle, Hunt rose and caught her for a quick kiss. “Relax, if we’re a little late, it’ll be fine.”
She sprinted, beautifully naked, up the stairs.
By the time he headed up, she was getting out of the shower. He showered and dressed in gray pants and a button-down, black shirt. He took a second to admire Savannah in her white, lacy underwear as she leaned close to the mirror, doing her makeup.
He eyed her ass.
“Don’t even think about touching me, Morgan. We’ll be late enough as it is.”
He met her gaze in the mirror. “Later.”
Her lips parted. “Later.”
As he waited for her downstairs, he checked in with Brynn and Ace. There had been no sign of Walkson.
Hunt sighed and looked out the window. The sun was setting, and lights were flickering on across San Francisco.
Where are you? You can’t hide forever, you monster. I will hunt you down.
He heard the click of heels. He turned and almost swallowed his tongue.
Savannah was making her way down the spiral staircase. She wore a long, flowing dress. It was white, with brilliant splotches of color on it in vibrant red and deep green. It almost looked like someone had tossed paint on it. It looked summery and fresh. The neckline plunged low, almost to her navel, and the skirt had a slit up one thigh.
He watched her slim leg appear as she walked. She had sexy black heels on that had a strap around her ankle.
He wanted to fuck her in them later.
Her blonde curls were loose, falling over one shoulder. He couldn’t tell what she’d done to her face, but she looked dewy. She wore no jewelry, which just added to her fresh, sexy allure.
“Hunter?”
“We could stay in.”
She shook her head. “No way. I just rushed to get ready. We’re going.” She tossed her head back. “Besides, I’m not letting Walkson rule my life anymore.”
“Damn right.” Hunt held out his arm.
She slid hers through his.
“You look beautiful,” he told her.
“And you look hot.”
They headed down to the garage and Rhys met them. The investigator whistled.
“Savannah, if I wasn’t totally in love with Haven…”
Hunt glared at the man.
Rhys’ smile widened and he winked at her. “I’ll follow you in the X6.”
Hunt led Savannah over to a low-slung, red, sports car. Her mouth dropped open.
“A Ferrari? Are you on the take, Detective?”
He snorted and opened the door. “The Roma is from Vander’s collection. He said we shouldn’t drive my Charger.”
“This is his idea of inconspicuous?” She slid inside and stroked the leather seat.
“I don’t think Walkson will be looking for us in a Ferrari.” Hunt circled to the driver’s side and gave Rhys a salute. The other man slid behind the wheel of a X6.
Hunt started the Ferrari, listening to the throaty purr of the engine. Okay, he could get used to this.
They headed out, the X6 behind them.
“So where does Easton live?” she asked.
“Broadway Street in Pacific Heights. It’s known as Billionaire’s Row.”
When he turned onto Broadway, they passed some impressive houses before reaching Easton’s. The four-story, cream-stucco mansion sat on a spacious corner block.
“Holy moly,” Savannah murmured.
They drove into the underground garage and parked between Easton’s Aston Martin DBS and Saxon’s Bentley Continental.
A security guard nodded at them. “Detective. Ms. Cole. You’re to head straight up.”
“Thank you,” Hunt said.
They took an elevator up and soon stepped out into a circular landing area with an ornate staircase in the center. Through a large doorway was the murmur of conversation punctuated by laughter.
Savannah looked around, staring up at the ornate chandelier. “This place…”
“Easton’s a great guy. His fiancée, Harlow, is lovely, as well.”
Savannah nodded, but didn’t look convinced. They entered the open plan kitchen and living area. The kitchen had a large, stone island, and top-of-the-line appliances. The living area had built-in shelves around a huge TV, fronted by an elegant gray couch. A wall of sliding doors opened onto a grassed area walled in by a tall, green hedge for privacy.
“Hunt!” A bombshell blonde raced over and hugged him.
“Hi, Harlow.”
“And this must be Savannah.” Harlow smiled and shook Savannah’s hand.
“Um, hi,” Savannah said.
“I’m Harlow. It’s so great to meet you. I’m already itching to get you to paint Easton for me. Haven said your artwork is incredible. Do you do commissions?”
“I…haven’t, but I could.”
“As long as he has clothes on,” Hunt murmured.
A man joined them. “Hello, Savannah, I’m Easton.”
Easton looked like a slightly older, less hard version of Vander. His Italian-American heritage was obvious in his rugged face and black hair. He looked every inch the successful, billionaire businessman.