19. Delia
CHAPTER 19
delia
I opted for a ten-minute shower. It was, by necessity, an abbreviated version of my usual showering process, but I was honestly too exhausted and mentally overloaded to bother with much more, anyway. By the time I emerged, my eyes were drooping. It took sheer willpower to towel off without falling asleep.
I discovered another little surprise left for me by Hunter: a care package of sorts on the bed. It was a stack of clothes, new with tags, in my sizes—leggings, solid color V-neck T-shirts, an athleisure style hoodie, a cardigan, a simple but very expensive linen dress, and matching bra and underwear sets, again in simple solid colors. None of it was fancy or ostentatious, but rather simple and of the highest quality. I didn’t recognize the brand names of anything, but found myself not caring after putting the clothes on. Also included in the care package was a set of toiletries—a new toothbrush, flossers, toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant (the brand and scent I favor, and I found myself wondering how he knew that), a hairbrush, a package of hair ties, and a silk sleep mask.
It was a thoughtful gift, especially because it was all practical and utilitarian. No lingerie or anything provocative. Not that I would've been upset had he gotten me something sexy, but the fact that he told me not to pack anything and then made sure I was taken care of spoke to a genuine sense of care and thoughtfulness that left my heart beating a little harder, made the walls crumble a little more.
I put on underwear and one of the T-shirts, turned off the lights, and slid the sleep mask onto my face.
I was asleep within seconds.
I woke up disoriented. I wasn't in my bed in Anchorage, nor in my bed at home in Ketchikan. There was no light, no sound.
After a moment of disoriented panic, I remembered the sleep mask. And then I saw my surroundings and remembered the rest.
Another item in the care package Hunter had left for me was a pair of soft, supple leather ballet flats. I put on a pair of leggings and the flats and went to find Hunter.
I rang the bell at his quarters and received no answer; I was about to try and find my way to the mess alone when he rounded a corner. He was shirtless in a pair of very short shorts that clung to his thick, powerful thighs. His broad shoulders and hard chest and shredded abs glistened with sweat. He was more ripped than the last time I'd seen him—leaner and harder, as if he'd been driven to renewed extremes of fitness by strong emotion.
Fuck.
My mouth went dry, my palms clammy, and my lungs solidified in my ribcage.
He had a plain black ballcap on backward, his hair a little too long and messy and sticking to the back of his neck. He had earbuds in and he was intently tapping away at his phone as he did the phone-zombie shuffle toward his room.
Fuck.
I couldn't breathe, looking at him, remembering the glory of his body under my hands, his skin against mine, the lithe and powerful movement of his muscles as he drove into me…
I was in motion before my brain caught up. He was so intent on the email he was drafting that he didn't notice my approach—he'd stopped short of his door by a few feet, still panting a little, sweat droplets sliding down his nose.
Need blazed inside me, the inferno of my desire for this man roaring to life with such undeniable, irrepressible power that it took my breath away. It was beyond mere physical desire, however.
Yes, my nipples were diamond hard and pressing against the T-shirt—I'd not bothered with a bra, being more intent on finding Hunter so we could talk than with silly nonsense like wearing a titty-prison.
Yes, my pussy was soaked with need, and my whole body pulsing, aching, raging with arousal.
Yes, I needed to touch him more than I needed my next breath.
But it was more.
So much more.
More than flesh and blood, more than muscle and nerve endings.
It was a need in my soul. A requirement in the very core of my being.
I was starved and dying of thirst and the only thing that could sate my hunger or slake my thirst was Hunter.
His voice, his words. His scent, his touch. His kisses, his love.
Him.
I just needed...him.
I couldn't deny it—not within myself any longer. I couldn’t deny his claim over my mind, my heart, my soul, and my body.
I couldn't deny my own claim over him—he was mine.
I stopped short of touching him, just barely. He was so shocked by my appearance that he fumbled his phone and nearly dropped it.
"Delia!" he said. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me, woman."
I found my tongue frozen to the roof of my mouth. Found words jumbled and scrambled in my brain and trapped in my throat.
All I had was touch.
I pressed my palm to his chest and pushed him back up against his door. Crushed my body against his, thighs to thighs, belly to belly, breasts flattened against pecs.
A greedy, hungry smile spread across my mouth as I felt his erection grow behind his shorts.
I grasped his wrist and guided his hand to the biometric reader; it flashed, and his door slid open—in what had to be an intentional homage to Star Trek, the doors were all automatic, hydraulic pocket doors, so when you touched the biometric reader, they slid inside the wall with a satisfying sci-fi whoosh.
He stumbled backward, and I followed him inside, giving him a gentle shove further inward. I'd expected his quarters to be at least a step or two better than mine since he was a part owner and a billionaire, so I was a little shocked to find he was staying in a mirror image of my quarters.
"Delia—" he started, plucking the earbuds from his ears.
I took them from him. Took his phone from him. Set them on his nightstand. Swept the backward hat from his head and tossed it aside.
"Delia, shouldn't we talk first?"
I shoved him back again, and he tripped, stumbling against his bed—the mattress hit the backs of his knees and he sat down hard. I insinuated myself between his thighs.
"No," I whispered.
"But, I…" he started.
I crawled onto his lap and circled his neck with my arms. "I know." I cupped his face. "I just can't think of anything else but this right now, Hunter."
He growled and ran his hands up my thighs, paused at the crease of my hips, and then slid them under my shirt. I lifted my arms, and he tore my shirt off and tossed it aside.
He cupped my breasts with a sound that couldn't be described as anything but a sigh of relief. "Dreamed of you, my love," he murmured, lifting the weight of one breast to his mouth and kissing the upper slope. "Dreamed of this."
"I did too," I whispered. "Every night."
I arched my back to press my breast deeper into the soft wet warmth of his mouth, into the delicate suckle of his lips, and I gasped, head tossed back.
Hunter groaned, letting go of my breasts so they bounced free with a sway, and his hands slid up my back, cradling the back of my neck, and then his mouth found mine.
"Fuck, please," I whimpered. "Please kiss me, Hunter. Kiss me and never fucking stop."
His answer was another ragged groan, and his lips fused with mine and his tongue danced in my mouth, tasting me, claiming my mouth, my kiss.
Yet, the moment I began to return the kiss, he pulled back, hands roughly framing my face, keeping it close to his as he pulled back just enough that our eyes could meet.
"Will you run again?" he asked.
Tears spurted into my eyes, blurring my vision. "Hunter, I—"
“Will you…run…again?” he demanded, harshly now.
I shook my head as tears slid hot down my cheeks. "Hunter, no. No. Where would I go?"
"That's not fucking good enough. I didn't bring you all the way up here so you wouldn't have anywhere to go, Delia. I brought you here to share this place with you. To share something that's important to me."
A sob wracked me. "I know —I…I know, Hunter. I just…I meant—"
"If you don't want me, I'll let you go. If you don't love me, you don't even need to say so. If you want to run, I'll let you." His voice shook. "I'll fight for you, Delia. I'll fight for us. But I need to know it's what you want me to do. I won't play hard to get. If you run, I'll let you go. I won't chase you."
I shook my head again, blinding tears burning in my eyes. "No, Hunter. No. No."
"No what?"
"I'm not playing hard to get. I never was."
"You ran."
"Because I was scared!" I yelled, shooting to my feet and staggering away from him, scrubbing my face with both hands.
"So was I!" he yelled back. "But I fucking stayed."
"And I didn't!" I whirled away from him, sobbing so hard it was impossible to breathe. “I ran. I ran and hid. And yes, I wanted you to chase me, but only because I was too scared to—to—I don’t fucking know! I don’t know, Hunter! I don’t know what I wanted, what I was thinking. I was scared. I still am scared. But I’m here, aren’t I?"
"Delia—"
"I'm here," I whispered, my knees threatening to give out.
"So I ask you again." I felt him behind me, felt his bare, hard chest against my back. His hands went around my middle and he pulled me back against him but barely held me there, making a point of giving me freedom to pull away. "Will…you…run…again?"
I shook my head, crying too hard now to manage words.
"I need to hear it, Delia."
"No!" I shouted. "No!"
"No what?"
I turned in his arms. "No, Hunter, I will not run again."
"Why not?"
I frowned. "Why not? What do you mean, why not?"
"Just that—why won’t you run again? What changed? What's different? You just said you’re still scared."
"So did you!"
"But I never left, even though I was afraid."
“Can't you forgive me for that, Hunter?"
“Yes, of course I can."
I swallowed hard, looking up at him through tear-hazed eyes. "Will you?" I held onto his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Hunter. I'm sorry I ran away. I'm sorry I let my fears win. I'm sorry I hurt you."
"Delia, I love you." His voice was so tender, so soft.
I wanted to say it back; the words caught in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and fought to get them out. "Hunter, I—"
His lips quested across my cheeks, kissing away tears. "Don't fight it, Delia. I know I love you. I can say it easily because it's been obvious to me since before we made love in that ugly fucking house in Alaska. I love you. I'm in love with you. But I don't want you to have to fight yourself. If you're not there, that's okay. Maybe you never will be. Just…" he swallowed hard, his whisper shaky and emotional. "Just be real with me, Delia. Give me the raw, brutal truth, no matter what that truth may be."
I trembled all over, a billion fraught and confusing emotions whirling in the vortex of my heartspace. I loved him. I was terrified of loving him. Terrified of not knowing how to love. Terrified of not being able to love him well enough. Terrified of failing where everyone else in my family has succeeded. I know, I know—it's a stupid and pathetic thing to be so afraid of. But it's a very real pressure. I know I'm good at what I do at work. I know my place. I know my skills.
But love?
I have a terrible track record.
"I'm not good at it, Hunter," I whispered.
"At what?"
"Love." It wasn't even a whisper—it was a breath, barely a sound.
"You can't be bad at something you've never experienced."
"But, I—"
"Have you ever truly been in love?"
I realized, then, what he was saying. "No," I admitted.
"Well then. You're not bad at love. Neither am I—because I've never really been in love before either. This is new for both of us."
"You don't understand, Hunter," I protested. "Every man I've ever dated has been…problematic. I've been the other woman more than once. I've been with a man I knew was married. I’ve been lied to about—everything. About being married or in a relationship. About having kids. I've been cheated on repeatedly. I've been used for sex. I've used men for sex. I've had sex with strangers and never learned their names. I've dated so many fucking losers, Hunter. Not because there weren't any good men in Ketchikan. There are. A lot of them. I just lied to myself about that because it was easier than admitting that I was the problem. I've always been the problem."
"What do you want, Delia?"
"Is this going to be a Notebook moment?"
"Yes. Tell me what you want."
"You."
"You had me. You still have me." He shook his head. "I'm the problem for me, too, Delia. I'm a privileged, out-of-touch, selfish bastard. I grew up rich and got richer. I've always gotten what I want. Always. I used women. I always made sure they knew how it was, but that doesn’t change the fact that I used them. I never had any intention of letting a relationship become anything real, and I’d still sleep with them even when I knew damn well they’d end up developing feelings for me. And when they inevitably did, I cut them loose. I walked all over anyone who stood in the way of my career. I ruined the careers of men who stood in my way."
I shook my head. "Hunter, this isn't a 'who's worse’ competition."
"Good, because I'll win. I have spent my entire career thus far being the poster boy for faceless corporate villains. I've done terrible things in the pursuit of wealth I do not, have never, and will never need." He stared hard at me. "I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your love. But I'm still enough of a selfish bastard to want you anyway."
"So we're both awful? Is that what you're saying?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No. I'm saying—"
I slammed my mouth against his. "Oh, for god's sake, Hunter—shut the fuck up and kiss me already." I kissed him so hard our lips would be bruised later, probably. And then I broke away and whispered, lips moving against his. “We’ve talked this in circles. What does any of that matter? All that matters is now. Right? I’m here. I came because I was miserable without you. I worked until I couldn’t stay on my feet anymore, and then I went home to my empty apartment and drank myself into oblivion because it hurt too bad missing you and knowing how wrong and stupid I was for running."
He closed his eyes, and his head tipped down, his forehead resting against mine. "So what are you saying, Delia?"
"I'm saying I'm done running—from you, from love, from what I really want."
"Which is what?"
"What my parents have. What all my aunts and uncles have." I let out a shaky breath. "I'm just…I'm still scared of it, Hunter."
"What is it exactly you're so scared of?"
"Not being enough. Failing."
"Look, Delia. I don't have any examples of real love in my life. My parents aren't in love and never have been. They're friends and partners, but it's not love. My fear comes from that—I don't know what it looks like. And I know I don't want that—I don't what they have. I want something real. I want what your family has, too. And yeah, I’m scared of the same thing—I'm scared I'm not enough. That I'll fail. That I'll end up like my parents. They have all the money in the world, but at the end of the day, they go to bed in separate rooms."
"That's sad," I said.
"Yes, it is." His gaze was fierce. "The only way you and I can fail at this is by not trying. I may not know how to be a good boyfriend, let alone husband. But by god I'm willing to fucking try. I'm willing and ready to go all in on loving you. On being there for you. I'll do anything for you, Delia. This—" he swept a hand at…everything. "This was to prove that to you, I suppose. I'll give you the very fucking stars in the sky, my love."
"But Hunter, I don't need the stars. I just need you."
“Then all you have to do is stay,” he whispered. “Love me. Let me love you. Take it one day at a time. When I fuck up and do something or say something that hurts you or pisses you off, forgive me. When you want to run, don’t. If you need time alone to sort things out, I’ll give you all the time and space you need, as long as you come back to me at the end of the day. That's all I need. That's all I ask. Choose me every day, because I swear to you, Delia, I'll choose you every day."
Love surged within me, so potent, so fierce it took my breath away.
Is that really all it is? Choosing someone, day in and day out, no matter what life throws at you?
"That seems so simple," I whispered.
"I'm no expert, but I don't think it was ever all that complicated. I don't think that means it's easy. It's just…not all that complicated."
"I think you're right." I touched his lips, smiling up at him, letting the love I finally allowed myself to fully feel shine through my eyes. "And I think there's only one thing left for me to say."
"What's that?" he demanded in a soft, growly murmur.
"Make love to me, Hunter. Please." I shimmied my leggings off and stood naked in front of him.
His eyes raked over me, eager, fierce, wild, and full of love. Unwilling to wait for him, I found the waist of his shorts and tugged them down. He kicked them away, toed off his sneakers and socks.
When he went to kneel in front of me, I caught him. “No, Hunter. I don't want that. Not this time." I crushed myself against him, hooked one thigh high around his hip.
He lifted me, and I caught his neck and found my balance by claiming his mouth. Took his tongue. Devoured his breath. Whimpering, gasping, I reached between us and guided his erection to my seam.
"Delia," he whispered. "My love."
"Yes," I answered. "Yours."
I let my lips tremble against his as I fit him to my opening. "Mine," I said, the word a soft breath of wonder as I sank down on him. "Mine. You're mine."
"Oh god, oh god," he hissed, filling me, staggering as his knees buckled at the pleasure of our union. "Yes, yes—I'm yours, Delia. I belong to you."
We crossed the room as my sex swallowed his cock, taking him deeper and deeper inside me, and we caught up against the door. It was cold and hard against my back. He let my weight sag lower, until he filled me so deeply that I ached with him, the thickness of his cock stretching me to a perfect, delirious burn. I cried out with joy, clinging to his neck, settling lower until he could fill me no more.
"Love me, Hunter," I demanded.
He drove into me with a ragged grunt, and the force of his thrust ripped a cry from my lips. "I love you."
"Again," I snarled. "Harder."
He pinned me to the door with his body, cradling my ass in his hands, pulling me open for himself.
Another thrust—this one harder yet. "I love you, Delia."
My breath caught on a sob of delirious rapture. "Hunter!" I cried. "Again."
I clung to his neck and whimpered as he dipped at the knees to draw out of me, shaking all over with the orgasm I’d been denied for so long, for all the endless minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months since I last had him here, where he belongs—inside me.
His next thrust was everything I needed. He slammed into me, driving me against the door with a hard, powerful thrust, his cock filling me to bursting, angled to perfectly slide against my clit, his chest scraping against my sensitive nipples, his mouth crushing mine and his tongue claiming mine.
It was a thousand years of lovemaking in a single thrust.
I broke.
I came with a scream as he fucked into me.
"I love you, Delia," he growled, his voice shaking and ragged. "I love you so fucking much."
As I came, I clutched around him, spasming and squeezing. His knees gave out then, and he sagged to the floor, lying on his back, and I rode him down, wrapping myself up in him, draping myself over him. He was fully within me, pulsing with arousal as I quivered above him, gasping as I came, panting until I caught my breath.
And then I took over. I cradled his face in my hands and rolled my hips, thrusting against him—the action ripped a whimper out of me as it sent me to new trembling heights of ecstasy, but this was no longer for me.
It was for him.
For us.
When I felt him bottom out inside me, I braced my hands on his chest, lifting my hips and leaning forward. He gripped my ass and stared up at me. "Delia, I lo—"
I bit his lower lip. "Hush. I know." I sank against him. "I know, Hunter."
He groaned as I thrust against him again, gasping as he filled me.
Another thrust.
Faster.
"Delia," he started again.
I covered his mouth with my hand, riding him hard and fast now. My hips rolled in a blur, and another orgasm rose within me—I fought it off, however.
Faster.
He gripped my ass in his strong hands and helped me fuck him, lifting me up and crashing me down as he thrust with mad, ragged power, grunting against my hand. I rested my forehead on his, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other clapped over his hand, silencing him until I found what I needed.
His grunts became a roar, and his thrusts lost their rhythm as he reached his climax.
Now.
I took his hands, threading our fingers together, and pressed them up over his head. Stretched out on his body, breasts crushed against his chest, I set the rhythm. I rode him with everything I had, slamming onto him with wild abandon, screaming hoarse and wordless as a climax ripped through me.
He bellowed through gritted teeth, and I pressed quivering lips to his mouth, stole his breath since mine was lost, snatched away by the furious intensity of our union.
"Hunter," I whispered, feeling him reach the precipice. "Say it again."
"I love you," he rasped. And with that, he came. "Oh—god. Oh god. Delia—Delia!"
He exploded within me, and my orgasm shattered, merging in a thousand pieces with his, and now all that I was became him, became us.
I devoured his protestation of love. I stole his breath. I rode him through my climax until I was breathless and mad, thoughtless and wild, a creature of primal frenzy.
"I love you!" I shrieked, the words ripped from the depths of my soul as he came inside me, as we came together. "Hunter—I love you, I love you—oh god, I love you ."
"Delia," he whispered, visibly shaken to the core. "Mine. My Delia."
"Yes," I breathed, "yours. Yours. Always yours. I love you, Hunter."
We moved together in slow silence, then, sliding against each other through the last shaky waves of mutual release, and I felt something damp against my cheek.
I pulled away and saw tears glistening on his cheeks. I kissed them. "Mine," I whispered, kissing tears as they leaked from his eyes.
"Fuck, I—" he started.
I silenced him with a kiss to his lips. "Don't cheapen it with an apology, Hunter."
He let out a ragged sighing snarl. "You make me feel things I didn't know I could feel."
"Same."
I hissed as I slid him out of me, rose to jellied legs and pulled him up after me. Drew him to the bed and lay down, taking him with me. I cradled his head on my chest and we breathed together for a time I didn't care to measure.
We dozed, then.
He turned the lights off and made the wallscreen show the blue-green beauty of Earth spinning gracefully in the vast black.
He kissed me—my lips, my throat, my breasts. Every inch of me. He kissed my sex until I came, and then he guided me to my hands and knees and slid into me from behind and made slow, deliberate, forceful love to me as we watched Earth, larger than life, the most incredible sight I've ever seen, spin as we delved into each other, braiding our souls together.
We slept. We conserved water by showering together, and he made me come again and again, whispering his love for me with each thrust.
I lost track of how many times we made love, there in the half-light of the glow of Earth.
I woke with my head on Hunter's chest, sore and sated and full of such unutterable and delirious joy that it was almost hard to breathe.
I peeked at him with one eye, drowsy still. "Hi."
He was toying with something that caught the dim, otherworldly light—it was small, round, and thin.
And glittered.
"Hunter?" I whispered.
"Your uncle and Valentine sent a probe to the asteroid belt, way back when they first started designing, building, and testing their reusable rocket and shuttle system." He was building up to something, so I held my questions. "It took samples—a lot of them. Only a handful of people know about that probe or the results it brought back. Which are minerals unlike anything we could ever find on Earth."
He showed me the object: a ring.
It was silvery-gray and iridescent—otherworldly. Despite being a simple circle, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“Hunter…is that…?"
"Made from minerals that the probe brought back from the asteroid, yes." He brushed his lips against mine. "Diamonds, titanium, platinum…anyone can have those," he said, turning the ring this way and that; each new angle made it gleam with a different sheen, showing new hues, new colors I’d swear don't exist on earth. "You deserve something no other human on the planet has ever had."
"Hunter," I breathed.
He took my left hand. "Marry me?" His eyes met mine, and I saw the fear, the hope, the love all written there plainly for me to see.
I slid my finger into the ring and kissed him. "Yes, Hunter. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. As soon as possible. Just…not up here."
He laughed. "No, not up here. Your whole family wouldn’t fit up here. This station has a max capacity, and your family is too big."
“You really had a ring made out of space rocks?"
"I did. Although calling them space rocks sort of cheapens it, if you ask me. That ring is literally priceless. The minerals it's comprised of do not exist anywhere but that asteroid hurtling through space hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth. And since it'll be years, at best, before any real mining happens out there, that ring will be one-of-one for a very long time."
"I'd have been happy with a ring out of a Cracker Jack box, Hunter," I said.
"Which is exactly why you deserve that." He let out a breath. "I didn't really expect you to say no, but I was still nervous."
"Of course, I wouldn't say no," I said with a laugh.
He looked at me. "When you say as soon as possible…?"
I shrugged. "I mean exactly that. I don't want or need some big thing. I just need my family around me celebrating us. The earliest date we can get my whole family together is when I want to marry you. And I want…" I swallowed hard. "I want to marry you at home. My parents' home, in Ketchikan."
"As long as you're my wife at the end of it, Delia, it can be whatever, whenever, and wherever you want. I'll spend a billion dollars on it, or we can do it on a shoestring. Becoming your husband is all I care about."
"Then it's settled. In my parent's backyard, as soon as possible." I sighed. "I just have one question."
"Hmmm?"
"Where will we live?"
He shrugged. "I can do most of what I need from anywhere. I’ll still have to make trips now and then for various business purposes, especially once Valkyrie starts taking clients."
I grinned. "I like that answer. Because what I'm hearing is you're building us a house in Ketchikan."
He laughed. "Sounds like I am. Because, good lord, I hate that place I was living in before. It is so godawful ugly."
I cackled. "Thank god you said that. I was worried you liked it."
"God no. It's the worst." He kissed me. "I have two words for you, Delia, and they're two very simple words that you're gonna have to get used to hearing: unlimited budget."
I grinned. "You may regret that. I have expensive taste."
He just laughed. "Pauper me, my love. I dare you to try."
I nuzzled against him. "I'll do my best."