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Hunter took her hand and squeezed it into his own, and she laid her head on his chest again. The feel of her against him did funny things to him. He pulled her tighter, wishing he could melt away.
For a long time, they just held each other.
Finally, she pulled back and ran a hand to the back of his neck. “You need a haircut. Come see me at the salon tomorrow, okay?”
Hunter grunted. Reese liked to tell the Stone brothers, especially Hunter and Trent, what they needed to do with their hair or with their nails. Often, she’d teased that they needed to go get a manicure or pedicure. If they were surfing, she would look at their toes and tell them their feet were gross. It had turned into her running joke.
He nodded. “Sure.”
“Good.” Cheryse pulled him in for another hug.
He didn’t want tonight to end. He didn’t want to wonder how he would move on from this. He kept her pressed against him. If the night didn’t end, all of this wouldn’t be real. He wouldn’t have just buried his brother.
He smelled her again and whispered, “It was always us. Trent, you, me. It was always us, and Trent and I would do stupid things to get your attention, and you would tolerate us, and …” Tears fell down his cheeks. “And I almost think that when I walk in the house Trent’s going to be there, asking if I kissed you.”
She laughed. “At least, before he married Liberty.”
“True.” Hunter frowned. “I need to talk to Liberty.”
“Me, too.”
“She’s probably … a wreck. I need to find her.” His mind spun. “Trent would want me to check on her.”
“She’s asleep now.” Cheryse held his hand. “It’s okay. We’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Okay.” His eyes drifted down to her lips. Attraction pulsed through him. “I sort of want to kiss you.”
Dang it, how had that come out?
Cheryse froze.
His heart raced as their eyes connected. Instantly, he felt the attraction increase between them. With Cheryse, there had always been chemistry, but right now it was off the charts.
“I know.” She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. “I’m so sorry.”
Hunter pulled her back to him, wanting her lips again. “Cheryse.”
She put her hand up. “I can’t be kissing you.”
“Sure you can, if you want to.” He could have pressed his lips to hers, but he didn’t want to do something she didn’t want. He didn’t want to get caught up in this grief and pain and hurt her.
But he didn’t have to refrain because she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
Her lips felt magical and soft and like a soothing tonic to his pain. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He deepened the kiss. Maybe if he kissed her long enough, if he got lost in her, he could forget about Trent. He could forget that it was his fault Trent had been blown up, that he should have cleared the area better. He pushed a hand through her hair, and she let out a moan.
“Hunter,” she whispered.
He kept kissing her deeper, longer, until their bodies swayed together.
Cheryse didn’t seem to mind. She responded to him in a way that she had never done before. It was like they were both looking for a way to forget and to remember at the same time.
He wasn’t sure how long he made out with her, his hands sliding through her hair, down the back of her arms, then returning to her face. Finally, he pulled back, the duty and honor in him winning out. “We can’t do this.”
She sucked in a long breath and then smiled. They’d been friends their whole lives, and he knew the meaning of every smile, every intonation in her voice. “This … I can’t believe this.” She put her hand to her lips and stepped back. “Roger. Oh my gosh.”
What did that mean? What disturbed him most was that she hadn’t fully agreed with him. She’d said she couldn’t believe it, but … He hated himself for wanting to dig deeper into what Cheryse was thinking. He hated himself more for knowing that if Trent was still alive, they probably never would’ve kissed like that. They wouldn’t be standing here, grieving.
There was a swishing sound as someone opened the sliding door from the kitchen to the deck. Hunter turned, thinking it must be Trey.
