Chapter 22 #2
I feel the buzz almost instantly, that warm, loose feeling spreading through my limbs. The room gets a little softer around the edges, and conversation flows more easily. I laugh and have another shot. What the hell, my week was dreadful enough to have earned it.
Hunter steps up beside me. “Are you ready to go?”
I blink because I have been staring at his mouth. “Sorry. Did you say something?”
His brows lift. “Yeah. Twice.”
“Oh. Right. I was… distracted.”
“By what?”
I glance away before he can read too much on my face. “Nothing important.”
He leans closer, his voice low in my ear. “I said I’m beat. Do you mind if we head out?”
I should say no. If I were being proper, I would stay out with my friends and maintain some distance. But I want to go home with him. I want to sit on our couch and talk about nothing important and pretend this is real.
“Yeah, okay.” I turn to say goodbye to the girls. Ivy slides me a little smile that says she knows exactly why I’m leaving early.
“Have fun,” she says with a smirk. I huff, resisting the urge to flip her off.
The walk upstairs is quiet, but it’s a comfortable quiet. Hunter keeps pace with me despite his longer stride. When I stumble slightly as we get in the elevator, his hand automatically goes to my lower back to steady me.
He doesn’t move it right away either.
“Thanks,” I murmur. I am all too aware of the warmth of his palm through my shirt.
“Always.”
Upstairs, he heads straight for the kitchen and returns with two glasses of water. “Drink,” he orders, handing me one.
The way his mouth quirks when I roll my eyes… it’s not his usual scowl. It’s softer. I think that maybe he saves those rare smiles just for me.
“I’m not that drunk,” I say, smiling up at him. The edge of my vision is fuzzy.
“Humor me.”
I drink the water mostly because I like when he takes care of me, even in small ways. It’s not something I’m used to. Patrick never paid attention to things like whether I was hydrated or eating enough or too tired to make the best decisions.
Hunter settles on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. “Come here.”
I should go to my room. Should maintain the boundaries we’ve somehow kept mostly intact for the past few weeks. Instead, I curl up next to him, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” I say. “I know team bonding isn’t really your thing when you’re tired.”
“It’s fine. I came because you were there.”
The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. “What?”
He looks at me, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “I’m too exhausted to party, but I wanted to see you. So I came.”
My heart does something complicated in my chest. “Hunter...”
“I know. I know this is all fake and temporary and whatever. But I missed you this week. I missed coming home to you.”
I should tell him to stop. Should remind him of the rules we set, the boundaries we agreed on. Instead, I lean closer, my hand finding his chest.
“I missed you too.”
The admission hangs between us, heavy with implications we’re both trying to ignore. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I know I should move away. I should go to my room and pretend this moment never happened.
Instead, I lean closer.
“Juliet.” His voice is rough, warning.
“I know,” I whisper. “I know this is a complicated situation. But I don’t care right now.”
When he moves to get up, probably to escape to his room and maintain what’s left of our professional arrangement, I make a choice. I lean forward and kiss him.
It’s supposed to be soft, testing. A question more than a statement. But the moment our lips touch, something ignites. He makes a soft moan in the base of his throat and his hands find my face, holding me like I might disappear.
We’re kissing like we’re drowning, like this is air and we’ve been holding our breath for weeks. His mouth is warm and demanding, and when his tongue slides against mine, I forget why this is a bad idea.
“Fuck yes, Hux. Oh, I love how you kiss me.” I climb onto his lap without thinking and straddle him.
My hands tremble as I kiss him the way I’ve wanted to for months.
Hunter groans against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my hips.
I can feel how much he wants this, wants me, and it makes me dizzy with power.
“Fuck, Juliet,” he breathes against my neck, his mouth hot on my skin. “You’re going to kill me.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. “Good.”
His laugh is rough. “You enjoy torturing me?”
“Definitely.” I give him a cheeky smile.
We’re pulling at each other’s clothes, desperate and clumsy with want. His shirt hits the floor and I run my hands over his chest, marveling at the solid warmth of him. When he tugs my top over my head, I feel exposed but not vulnerable. Not with him looking at me like I’m something precious.
I’m wearing a lacy baby pink bra that I wore just on the off chance that he might see it tonight.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands skimming up my sides.
I want to deflect, to make a joke, but the way he’s looking at me steals my words. He means it. Like he’s been thinking about it for a while.
“I’m horny,” I admit softly. “I thought about you a lot while you were gone.”
“Oh yeah?” Hunter ghosts his fingers over my collarbone. “And just what was on your dirty little mind, Monroe?”
I laugh breathlessly. “You don’t stop, do you? Your mouth is filthy.”
His grin is pure sin. “Filthy enough to make you wet just listening.”
My face heats but I don’t look away from his smoldering blue-gray gaze. Before speaking, I bite my lip and say, “This.” “I imagined the heat between us if we could ever shut the fuck up for ten seconds.”
He sinks his fingers into my hair, tugging to expose my neck before he runs a trail of kisses from just below my ear to the joint of my shoulder. I close my eyes, tilting my head more, encouraging him with a sultry groan.
Hunter’s hard cock presses against me. I can feel it through his thin pants. I drop my hand to brush the front of his package and he makes a pained sound.
He needs this as much as I do.
I cup his dick through his sweatpants, my fingers trailing over him. I stop when I feel something even harder. A piercing? Does Hunter have his cock pierced? Oh, my god.
I have to find out.
I grind against him, testing the friction, and his head falls back against the couch. “Jesus, Juliet.”
I love the way he says my name when he’s losing control. Love that I’m the one making him fall apart.
“Jules,” he breathes. I freeze, going completely still.
Everything stops. The warmth in my chest turns to ice, and suddenly I’m somewhere else entirely.
Patrick’s apartment, six months ago, his voice casual and cutting as he told me exactly why no man would ever choose me over his own comfort.
“Don’t call me that,” I say, my voice flat.
Hunter blinks, confusion replacing the heat in his eyes. “What?”
“Jules. Don’t call me that.”
“I... did I do something wrong?”
I’m already reaching for my shirt, pulling it over my head like armor. “It’s just a name Patrick used to call me.”
Understanding dawns on his face, followed immediately by something that looks like guilt. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” I lie, even though it’s not fine at all. Even though hearing that nickname in his voice just reminded me of every reason this is a terrible idea.
Hunter doesn’t push, which somehow makes it worse. He just watches me retreat, probably wondering what the hell just happened.
I pull my legs up to my chest, suddenly cold despite the heat still radiating between us. The room feels too small, the air too thin. Like I can’t get enough oxygen.
“Hey,” Hunter says quietly, leaning closer. “What’s wrong? And don’t say anything, because you just went somewhere else entirely.”
I shake my head, not trusting my voice.
“Talk to me, Juliet.”
The gentle way he says my full name almost breaks me. Patrick never said it like that. Like it mattered. Like I mattered.
“You ruined everything for me in college,” I hear myself saying. “You don’t even remember, do you? That night at the Delta Tau Delta party.”
His face goes blank, then careful. “What about it?”
“You said I wasn’t your type. That I was a control freak with no sex appeal. That I probably had a spreadsheet for my virginity.“
The words taste bitter in my mouth. “You thought it was funny. Someone printed it. I lost everything I’d worked for.”
The color drains from his face. “Fuck. I didn’t... I didn’t think anyone was listening. I didn’t know it got printed. It was… offhand.”
The old anger rises in my throat. “You still said it. It’s what drove me right into Patrick’s arms.”
He eyes me. “Do you think I didn’t know everything you did in college? I was obsessed with you. I am obsessed with you, Monroe.”
“What?” I shake my head vehemently. “You’re just saying that.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, processing. Then he leans back, running both hands through his hair. “Why do you think I’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. Your whole…” I wave at his face. “Big scowly hockey dude vibe?”
He grunts. “Like that scared off the jersey chasers. No, I always had the image of you in the back of my mind. How could any other girl possibly live up to you?”
My mouth hangs open. “You’re full of shit.”
“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know that journalist was going to print that quote. But I’m still sorry, Juliet. If I could go back in time, I’d do it differently.”
I believe him. I can see the regret written all over his face, the genuine remorse. But it doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t change how small he made me feel, or how that feeling led me to spend five years with someone who made me feel even smaller.
“Patrick always made me feel like a transaction,” I mumble. “Like love was something I had to earn by being small enough. Soft enough. Quiet enough. Less.”
Hunter’s jaw tightens. “He was wrong.”