16. Sutton #3
“You’re telling me this like you think I care.”
“You can’t fool me, Sutton. I know what it’s like to be jealous,” he says. “Every time I saw you with Brandon, I about turned into the Incredible Hulk.”
“At least it was just one man,” I mumble under my breath. I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
“Well, shit, I can’t seem to win,” he says, shoulders sagging.
“Look, Sutton, I’ll tell you what I’ve told you many times and what I told Navy this morning.
You’d found love with Brandon, and as much as I hoped that I’d eventually make you mine, I had to make choices for myself as if you never would be.
I won’t apologize for living my life.” He braces his hands on his hips and stalks back inside.
“You let her put on your hat,” I blurt out. I know how childish I sound, but I can’t help it. I wrestle the oversized costume out of the way before dropping onto the wooden bench near the fire.
Hunter stops in his tracks, his back still to me. “Nah, babe, you got that wrong. You might have seen her take my hat, but it’s clear you didn’t catch what I told her.”
“What’s that?” I don’t know why I can’t let the sour tone in my voice go.
Hunter wheels around, stalking toward me. This man is intense even when he’s wearing a silly costume. He drops to both knees in front of me and unzips his costume. I rush to place my hands over his.
“The bet,” I say.
“Fuck the bet.”
He unzips the rest of the costume and pulls his arms free. I suppress my grin, having forgotten about our backup costumes. His strong and impossibly distracting arms are now on full display beneath the too-tight sleeves of his T-shirt, and I’m quickly forgetting why I was upset in the first place.
Hunter’s hands press into my costume, his grip warm and steady on my thighs. His expression softens, the sharp edge of frustration replaced by something deeper. “There may have been other women before you,” he murmurs, his voice low but firm. “But you are the only woman I’ve ever truly wanted.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing through my insecurities and doubts. I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admit. “Not with you.”
Hunter leans closer, his forehead almost brushing mine if it weren’t for my costume getting in the way. The heat of his presence makes my pulse race.
“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” he says, his tone so gentle it nearly undoes me. “But I need you to trust me when I say there’s no one else that’s ever come close to owning my heart like you always have.”
He reaches for his hat, turning it over in his hands. He places it on my head. The brim slips low, almost hiding my eyes. “You’re the only woman I want wearing this hat,” he says softly, his gaze locked on mine. “Because you’re the only one who matters.”
A light and slightly shaky laugh bubbles out of me. “You’re ridiculous,” I say. I adjust his hat so it sits more comfortably on my head. The walls I’d begun to rebuild moments ago crumble again, piece by piece.
“Yeah, maybe I am.” He winks. “And maybe next time you can tell me what you’re feeling instead of picking a fight?”
My cheeks flame. “I’m sorry, I just—”
“No need to be sorry,” he says. “I’ve been a jealous bastard for the last seventeen years. I get it. But just remember . . .” Hunter smiles, his thumb brushing along my cheek in a touch so tender it steals my breath away. “I’m yours. And you’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.”
My chest tightens, fear, hope, longing swirling inside me. “Hunter . . .”
Before I can finish, he presses a kiss to my forehead. The simple act sends a shiver down my spine. He pulls back enough to meet my gaze, his eyes full of warmth. “Come back inside with me.” He stands, offering me his hand.
For a moment, I hesitate, staring up at him.
But the vulnerability in his expression gives me the courage to slide my hand into his.
“You know,” I say, bumping him with my tail.
“You lost our bet. Guess I get to be in charge tonight.” My stomach somersaults at images of a very naked Hunter in my bed, doing as I wish.
“Don’t worry, babe. I’m a man of my word. The question is”—he slides the back door open, gesturing me inside—“what will you do with me?”
I run my finger down his arm. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, cowboy.”
Hunter’s jaw drops as I try to sexily saunter toward the bathroom, a feat more easily accomplished had I not been dressed as a pink dinosaur.
He wraps his hand around my wrist and tugs me back into him. “Sutton.” My name sounds like a warning and a promise. His breath is warm against my cheek, and I know he can likely feel my pulse thrashing beneath his thumb.
“I’m going to change out of my costume, okay?” I don’t know why I ask. It’s not like I need his approval. But for some reason, I find I want it.
He tucks his nose against the column of my throat, sweeping his tongue over my heated skin. When he bites gently, I combust, a shiver racing the length of my spine.
“Can I help you?” he asks.