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“This place looks like that witch’s cottage we stayed in.” Were my words slurring? “You totally were playing house online!”
Hunter said nothing, but there was a secret quality to his shrug I hoped I’d remember to analyze tomorrow.
“Right,” he said. “I’m getting some carbs in you.”
Thirty minutes later, I was inhaling the most delicious pasta of my life. There was conversation, sure, but I couldn’t quite keep up with it.
This lemon-parmesan goodness was insane.
Hunter cocked his head, leaning back in his chair. “You know what you need, Marc? Team-building exercises. Your life in someone else’s hands. Close your eyes and fall, and feel the relief of someone catching you.”
I finished my plate and eyed Hunter’s half-eaten one. “How do you fall when you don’t deserve to be caught?”
Hunter leaned forward with purpose. “Close your eyes. I’m going to give you a taste.”
I obeyed Hunter’s commanding voice.
Cupboards opened, water ran, and a knife bluntly tapped a board.
Hunter disappeared and the toilet flushed. The bin behind me opened and shut.
“Ugh, I’m not sure I like this game.”
“Trust exercise.” The soft scent of Hunter filled my next breath. The heat of him moving close to my side. “Open your mouth.”
“What did you pull out of the bin? What came from the toilet?”
Hunter stroked my nape. “I won’t feed you anything you wouldn’t eat yourself. Open.”
I hesitated, squished my eyes shut, and parted my lips.
“Wider. It’s bigger than that.”
“Remember I’m hammered and want to be awake for the fun stuff.”
A soft slap met the back of my head. I laughed and opened my mouth.
“Yeah, like that.”
Something round, smooth, and tangy hit my tongue and I sucked it in and chewed. “Cherry tomato.”
“Again.”
I opened for him. “Apple slice.”
“Again.”
I barely hesitated to open up for him now. “Oh my God, that tastes amazing.”
“Pesto, homemade.”
A fork clattered. From his plate? Pasta slid into my mouth and I hummed around the fork, feeling it vibrate. Did Hunter feel it too?
I opened my eyes.
Hunter pinched the end of the fork, a hitched expression on his face. He laughed. “I saw you eyeing my plate. You can have the rest.” He dragged his unfinished pasta to me. “See, Marc? You have it in you.”
“Your amazing food?”
He gave me a dirty look. “I know you don’t have shit for brains.”
I understood. I had it in me to trust Hunter. I had it in me to ease my defenses.
At least, I had it in me while drunk.
Before I knew it, I’d found Hunter’s bedroom and thrown myself across his bed. Hunter excused himself for the bathroom, and I studied the plants on his windowsill while playing with a black marker I found on the bedside table.
The bed dipped and Hunter transferred himself next to me.
Shirtless, he’d changed into flannel pants. I gaped at the inked landscape of his chest. Colorful hummingbirds mid-flight, perched on branches, glorious wings expanded.
Clickity-click.
I rolled onto my side. Hunter shifted his leg over a body pillow and faced me.
I pressed the capped marker against the bird over his heart. “Why hummingbirds?”
“They’re fascinating. When they appear they always bring joy.”
“True. My mom and I saw one once, we kept urging each other to take a photo because neither of us wanted to take our eyes off it. It was a good day.”
Hunter smiled. “Exactly. They remind us to enjoy the moment.” He removed the marker from my grip and brought my fingers to the small, flying beauty. His warm chest flexed under my touch and the pads of my fingers slid over the soft skin at his nipple. It hardened under me and he quickly moved my fingers to another bird at his collarbone. “A hummingbird can travel up to 2000 miles to reach its destination. Talk about endurance.”
His blue eyes wondrously took me in. God, I so badly wanted to kiss him.
I inched my head across the pillow and the room see-sawed. “Hummingbirds complement you,” I said. “They’re unique, they can fly backwards, sideways and hover, they’re adaptable and colorful. Like you.”
“They remind me to accept change with grace. They remind me that there’s magic in the world, and maybe one day—”
I ran my fingers down his bicep and squeezed his elbow. “Gonna finish that, Hunter? Or do you need trust-building exercises, too?”
He gaze connected with mine, and my heart whirred like hummingbird wings. I whispered, “What does it feel like to you when we look at each other like this?”
“Frighteningly hopeful.”
I licked my dry lips. “It’s late.”
“It is.”
“I want to stay here. Not do anything, just . . .”
“Yeah, Marc. I want that too. I wanted you in my bed from the second you walked into the bar tonight. Before that, actually.”
Oh, hell. I had better remember this in the morning.
Chapter Nine
“So, last night . . .”
His rumbling words near my ear woke me up. I froze. I was in Hunter’s bed, drowning in soft cotton pillows, sheets wrapped around my naked body.
