Chapter 16 #2
That’s when I hear footsteps outside the bathroom door. Hunter, back from dryland practice. I freeze, hoping Hunter will just walk past, but the footsteps stop.
“Juliet?” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“I’m fine,” I call out, but my voice cracks on the words.
The doorknob turns. Damn. I realize I forgot to lock it. Hunter appears in the doorway, takes one look at me on the floor with makeup streaked down my cheeks and trembling hands, and his expression changes completely.
“What happened?”
I try to brush it off, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “Nothing. I cry a lot. I’m always too much.”
I expect mockery, or worse, awkward silence. Instead, he kneels beside me on the bedroom floor, his voice awkward. “You aren’t too much, Juliet. You’re just enough.”
The laugh that I release is harder than I had intended. “Enough for whom? Who’s going to put up with my crap every day?”
He touches the back of my hand, drawing my eyes to his face.
“Anyone would be lucky to get to put up with you. Okay? Patrick wasn’t a good fit for you. But that’s just because he was too weak. A real man would deal with you just fine.”
My breath catches. It’s too kind, too generous. I’m not actually upset about Patrick at this moment, but Hunter has no way of knowing that. I don’t know how to process it, this version of Hunter who’s careful with my feelings instead of trying to provoke me.
“Thank you,” I manage stiffly. “Really. You can go now, Hux.”
He hesitates for a moment, glancing back like he’s memorizing the sight of me falling apart on the bedroom floor, then leaves me alone.
I sniffle, wiping my face.
I hate that he gets under my skin so easily. One comment and I’m off-kilter. One touch and I forget what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s infuriating.
“I’m going to go out with the boys tonight,” he says. “They just put in a new driving range by the Rainier Bank Center, so we’re going to hit some balls and blow off some steam.”
“Fine.” It comes out huffy, like I’m upset with him. It’s not that. I’m more upset that I wanted to spend the evening on the couch with him, watching Detective Saga hunt for clues. I heave a sigh. “The Coven wants to get together. Maybe I should invite them over.”
“What the hell is the Coven?” He looks baffled, which makes me smirk.
“That’s what we’re calling the group of girls. You know, Jessa, Ivy, Wren. We decided that sounds as witchy as we want to be.”
Hunter rolls his eyes. “What it sounds like is trouble.”
“It’s only trouble for the guys we hex.” I flick my wrist at him. “Go play golf.”
“You sure?”
“A thousand percent.”
I watch as he heads out of my bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. I fire off a text to the Coven, declaring this a girl’s night and saying that I have a very comfy couch. The girls chime in enthusiastically, saying they’ll be here in a couple of hours.
I sigh, putting my phone down. Hunter has been really nice lately. But there’s no room for him in my life. No matter how good he smells or how gentle his voice is when he tries to talk me down.
I would do well to remember that.
After Hunter leaves for a guys’ night, The Coven arrives right on schedule. Wren brings Thai takeout in enough containers to feed an army. Ivy has wine that definitely costs over twenty dollars a bottle. Jessa clutches a crime documentary playlist on her phone like it’s a holy relic.
We crash onto my couch, tearing into pad Thai and gossip with equal enthusiasm.
“Okay, but seriously,” Wren says, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork, “I’m a reality tv producer and I’m looking for a new show idea to bring to my television network. Ryan mentioned this idea of, like, following the team around? I think we should push for it.”
I perk up immediately. “That’s brilliant. The behind-the-scenes content would be incredible. Think about the storytelling possibilities.”
“Right?” Wren’s face lights up. “You could help me pitch it.”
“Absolutely. We should schedule a meeting.”
“Really?” Wren blushes. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course. We’re a coven now. We help each other.”
“Wow.” Wren grins. “I’ve never really had my own group of friends.”
Jessa cuts in, “Well, now you have us.”
Ivy, who’s been unusually quiet, suddenly announces, “I had athletic sex this morning.”
Jessa turns bright red. “Ivy! TMI!”
Ivy looks nonchalant. “What? I thought we were ready for a new topic.”
“Athletic how?” Wren asks with scientific curiosity.
“Like CrossFit but naked,” Ivy explains matter-of-factly.
“Oh god.” Jessa puts her hands over her ears. “I’m not hearing this.”
Wren cocks her head. “Part of being in a coven is promoting sexual freedom for women. I want to hear more, Ivy.”
“I’ll tell you everything. Including his dick size,” Ivy announces.
“Please, no,” Jessa begs. “Text Wren that stuff if you really have to tell someone.”
Ivy arches a brow at Wren, who claps her hands. “Yes, please!”
I’m dying. Absolutely dying. This is exactly what I needed after the disaster lunch with my mother. I cackle.
Then they turn their attention to me. I know I’m in trouble.
“Speaking of athletic activities,” Ivy says with a wicked grin. “You and Hunter looked very cozy during the team retreat.”
“We did not.”
“You totally did,” Jessa agrees. “There were pictures.”
“Staged pictures. For publicity.”
“Uh-huh.” Wren doesn’t look convinced. “And what about when you thought no one was looking?”
I try to deny it, but eventually I cave. “Fine. He’s attractive. Straight up hot. Too bad he opens his mouth and ruins everything with his words.”
Ivy raises an eyebrow. “I bet you’d like his mouth just fine if it was too busy to talk.”
My face burns. “Ivy.”
She doesn’t stop there. “Licking your clit, for example.”
Jessa puts her hands over her ears again.
I shriek and throw a decorative pillow at Ivy’s head. “Oh my God! Stop!”
The room explodes with laughter. Despite myself, I can’t help but laugh too, even though I’m dying inside because now I’m definitely thinking about Hunter’s mouth and what it might feel like.
Heavenly, I bet. But… I’m absolutely not going there.
“Your face right now,” Jessa gasps between giggles.
“I hate all of you,” I announce, but I’m still laughing.
“Not me!” Jessa stage whispers. “I didn’t do anything!”
“You love us,” Wren says confidently.
And the scary thing is, I think I actually do.
After they leave, I clean up the takeout containers and wine glasses, still smiling from the evening. It feels good to have friends who see me as more than just a professional contact or someone to network with. People who tease me about boys and bring me wine when I need it.
I’m walking past the dining area when I catch sight of Hunter at the table, sketchbook open in front of him. His pencil moves fast and surely across the page.
For a moment, I’m transfixed. I didn’t know he could draw.
The second he senses my presence, he looks up, and our eyes meet. He immediately slams the sketchbook shut like I caught him doing something illicit.
I freeze, stunned. I want to ask him what he was drawing, want to tell him he doesn’t have to hide it from me. But before I can say anything, he mutters, “Goodnight,” and disappears into his room.
A few minutes later, music blasts from behind his closed door.
I stand there in the hallway, my heartbeat loud in my ears. What did he say to me?
I have to play loud music, Juliet. Otherwise, you could hear me jerking off.
Electricity crackles through my body. Yes, I know exactly what Hunter’s doing in there. Just like I know what I’m about to do in my room. The awareness sits between us like a live wire, sparking like an exposed wire we’re both trying to ignore.
I tiptoe to my bedroom, close the door quietly, and lean against it for a moment, flushed and restless. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. About him. About the way he looked at me in the bedroom earlier, like I was something precious instead of a mess crying on his floor.
But I am thinking about it. I’m thinking about all of it.
I’m picturing him.
I reach into my nightstand drawer and pull out my vibrator.
In less than three minutes, I’m naked, spread wide on my bed, and whispering his name only once before biting my lip to stay quiet.
My vibrator buzzes against my clit. I roll my head to the side and slide a pillow over my face.
The way he knelt beside me in the bedroom is what I’m imagining, with the gentleness in his voice when he told me I wouldn’t be too much for a real man.
I can feel his heat, those rough hands, that mouth that probably knows exactly how to make me forget my name.
When I come, the waves of pleasure roll through my body, seemingly endless. I haven’t orgasmed like that in I don’t know how long.
I tell myself it’s just a release. Just a passing craving that means nothing. But when it’s over, my heart is still racing and my skin still burns with the memory of gray-blue eyes and careful fingers.
Living with Hunter Huxley for another four months is going to drive me completely insane.
Especially if he keeps being kind to me when I’m falling apart. I can’t handle it if he keeps looking at me like I’m worth protecting instead of just tolerating. Kindness from Hunter is infinitely more dangerous than his usual antagonism.
At least when he’s being an ass, I can maintain my defenses. But this version of him, the one who draws in secret and comforts me when I cry? This version could break me in ways that have nothing to do with business and everything to do with the heart I’ve been trying so hard to protect.
I pull the covers up over my head and try not to think about tomorrow, about pretending this is all fake when it’s feeling more real than anything else in my carefully constructed life.
Four more months. I just have to survive four more months without doing something irreversibly stupid.
Like falling for my fake fiancé.
Too late, whispers a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Ivy. But I ignore it and close my eyes, hoping tomorrow will bring back the Hunter who annoys me instead of the one who makes me want things I can’t afford to want.