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“Okay. Next time I’ll invite him out for coffee and have a nice civil conversation.”
I shot him a look and grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol off my bedside table. He was lucky the cops only took Jared away in handcuffs. Dropping a bit on a cotton ball, I dabbed it gently on the cut and on the little scab that had formed under his jaw. He bared his teeth, his face scrunching, but he didn’t complain. “Thank you,” I whispered, “for coming back.”
“I never left.”
My hand froze against his cheek. I couldn’t help the little grin that tugged at my lips. Of course you didn’t. “When the doorbell rang,” I started, forcing the words to come out even though they tried so hard to keep themselves inside, “I thought it was you. I wanted it to be you.”
His green eyes met mine, flicking between them. “I’m sorry it wasn’t.”
I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. You were here. That’s what matters.” I finished up with the alcohol and pulled out a handful of band aids from my first aid kit. Dad had always insisted on keeping at least three in the house at any given time: one on the ground floor, one upstairs, and one for the attic in case someone got hurt up there. It wasn’t a bad idea. “I think I want to try.”
“Beating up Jared? It was really satisfying.”
I laughed. “No,” I grinned. “I want to try with you. This. Us.”
I took the band aids out of their wrapping and gently pressed the larger one across his cheek. He watched me with bated breath.
“It won’t be easy,” I swallowed. Tell him. Tell him. Fucking tell him. “But I think it might be worth giving it a proper go. If you still want that.”
His hand reached for me, bloodied knuckles and all, and cupped the side of my face. “Of course I want that.” He leaned toward me, his hand snaking around the back of my neck, but I tipped his chin up to put on the other band aid instead.
“I realized when you left,” I said softly, pressing gently into the sides of the plastic to make sure it stuck. Tell him. “I didn’t want to lie to myself anymore. I know it’s been… unconventional, but I’m not going to pretend that there isn’t something there between us. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t love you.”
His fingers stilled against my neck, his breath catching. “Do you mean that?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, like I was twenty pounds lighter than I was a moment ago. “I do. And not just because you beat the shit out of my ex.”
He smiled so wide that the bandage I put on his cheek became soaked with blood. His lips met mine in a flash, his hands needy and grabbing. I didn’t care that there were flecks of blood on his face or bruising on his knuckles, didn’t care that he smelled of rubbing alcohol. It was Hunter, he was here and he wanted me. And I had finally told him that I loved him.
Fingers dug into the side of my waist, pulling me into his lap. I knew where this was going before it even began, I knew what he wanted and what we both needed.
My hands fisted his shirt, riding the fabric up until I could pull it over his head. Across his right shoulder, a massive bruise was already forming from where Jared had kicked him. I ran my fingertips across the reddened skin, light enough that it hopefully wouldn’t hurt, but he sucked in air, indicating that it did. His kisses morphed into something hungrier, greedier, and before I could protest, my funeral dress was up and over my head. It dropped softly against the floor, leaving me in just my underwear.
His kisses roamed down, along my neck, across my collarbone, nipping gently at the skin. “Fuck,” I breathed, my nerves firing little blooms of pleasure wherever his mouth wandered.
His hand slid beneath the waistband of my panties. My body heated, need prickling between my thighs. His fingers moved lower, dipping into the dampness and gliding across my clit.
“Don’t tease me,” I rasped.
“Don’t tempt me,” he chuckled.
He touched me with a featherlight sensation, barely enough to stimulate me. I bit my lip, pushing my hips down harder into him, feeling the rigidness beneath my core. He was throbbing already, desperate, but he hid it so well.
“Do you care about these?” He asked, tugging lightly on the frilly hem of my panties.
“Not at all.”
He gripped and pulled, splitting the flimsy cotton into shreds. The lacy edges of my bra dug into my skin and rubbed it raw at the same moment his lips found my breast, sucking my nipple between his teeth. The fabric fell away, leaving me entirely bare on top of his half-clothed body.
I felt the stretch of his fingers as he plunged them in, flexing them, spreading them, opening me up.
“So fucking tight,” he said. “Even on my fingers, you feel like heaven.”
“I’d feel better on your cock,” I replied. I shifted my hips, burying his fingers deeper inside, needing more.
“So needy,” he chuckled. “Can’t you just enjoy what I give you?”
“Not when it isn’t enough,” I pleaded. It was never enough. I needed him inside of me.
