19. This Shit Is Spiritual
Chapter 19
This Shit Is Spiritual
MEGAN
I spent a huge part of my childhood immersed in fictionalized worlds of books and television. I understand now that it was a coping mechanism, an escape, a place where I could go and not have to deal with the real people in my life.
In many of those romance books or drama series, couples would often talk about “making love” as if it were some spiritual experience. First of all, I was too young to read or watch adults making love, so I didn’t get it then. And then, when I started having sex, I didn’t understand it then either.
Sex was great.
Orgasms were very enjoyable.
But a spiritual experience? Eh.
But as Hunter spoons me from the back, our legs delicately entangled in a sensual dance as he enters me from behind over and over…I’m starting to get this whole spiritual thing.
Maybe it’s because I’m knocked up, and the hormones are raging inside of me, or perhaps it’s because I’ve missed this man something fierce. Still, my eyes practically roll up inside of my head as he alternates between pinching the nipple of my right breast and massaging my clit in between, taking deep strokes inside of my pussy.
Yeah, this shit is definitely spiritual.
“Are you okay, baby?” he whispers, which is another telltale sign that we’re making love because when has Hunter ever worried about me being okay while we’re fucking?
“Mmm, very okay,” I moan, reaching my arm behind my head to touch the side of his face. “More than okay.”
“That’s good, Megan because we have a lot of missed time to make up for,” he growls into the skin of my neck. “We’re in for a long night now that you’re back where you belong.”
I spend the morning pattering barefoot around the penthouse on a high from the night Hunter and I spent together. I spear a chunk of mango on a fork and am nibbling on it when I walk back into the bedroom to check on him. He’s been asleep for an unusually long amount of time. In fact, he’s still sleeping when I sit on the edge of the bed and watch his chest peacefully rise and fall.
I’ve spent so much time battling him lately; it’s been a long time since I’ve appreciated the view. Hunter is a beautiful man. He has a set of long, black eyelashes that most women would envy, a nose that is slightly crooked but in the most perfect way, and a chiseled jaw that would put the fictitious Thor to shame.
He shifts in his sleep, and I stare in appreciation of every dip and valley of muscle in his chest and arms. Incredibly, my desire for him surfaces again, and I gently touch the center of his chest with a light touch of my pointer finger.
“You’re such a greedy girl,” he says with his eyes still shut but smirking. “Didn’t I give you enough last night?”
“I’m starting to see what women say about pregnancy hormones. I didn’t believe them at first, but now I do. I want you to fuck me in the worst way.”
His eyes open slowly.
That woke him right up.
“Megan.”
“Yes?” I grin.
“You just had a scare yesterday. You were in a lot of pain, and you heard what the doctor said.”
“What your doctor said.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? She’s not my doctor; she’s a doctor. A very well respected one.”
"Did you ever have a romantic relationship with her?" I ask, dying to know the truth.
"I felt her up once when I was sixteen years old. We've been friends ever since."
"Eww."
He chuckles as he sits up and plants a kiss on my lips, lifting my legs up on the bed so that I’m entirely in his embrace.
“You taste like mango.”
“And you taste like me.”
“I should taste like you; I ate you half the night.”
I smile. “So you don’t want more of me this morning?”
He stares hungrily at my breasts, which sit heavily under my sleep tank top, but then he glances at my baby bump.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks hesitantly.
“Better than I have in a really long time, Hunter.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and wiggle my ass on his lap.
“Still–”
“Still what?” I interrupt him.
“There’s nothing more I’d like to do than make love to you repeatedly, but we’ve established that we’re very good at the physical thing. I think we need to focus more on our non-physical communication.”
“You want to focus on our non-physical communication?” I ask in disbelief.
“Your engagement ring is sitting in that box on the dresser over there.” He points to a medium-sized, intricately carved wooden box I’ve never seen before.
“You’ve been shopping,” I say.
“It’s a recreation of a box my mother used to have in her bedroom. It was one of her favorite possessions. I’ve been thinking about her more lately. I’m trying to remember all the little things I can about her so that I can tell Lena.”
I nod my head in understanding. “She’ll like that.”
“Back to us, as I was saying, your ring is in that box, and I don’t want to put it back on your finger until you’re sure that you won’t take it off again because once you put it back on, you're mine, Megan. I'm not going stand for any more wishy-washy bullshit just because we argue once or twice."
A part of me feels guilty for my past behavior. If it were me advising anyone else, like a girl from the nightclub, I’d tell her she was crazy. I’d tell her that she’d probably never do any better than a man like Hunter and to act accordingly. Seriously. What are the chances of someone like me falling in love with one of the wealthiest, most respected, and most feared men in Los Angeles?
Slim.
But this isn’t about the odds of this love story.
This is about real life and how I want to live it.
“You’re right. Just because we’re bringing a baby into this world doesn’t mean that we should jump into marriage.”
His left eye twitches at that comment. “I didn’t say exactly that.”
“No, but I know what you meant. So where do you think we should start with this whole working on our non-physical communication?”
“Honesty.”
“Honesty?”
“Brutal honesty. It goes against everything I’ve ever learned in the streets about keeping myself alive and staying one step ahead, but if I’m going to trust one person completely in this world, I’d like it to be you and vice-versa. The only way that’s going to happen is if we try being honest with each other no matter how much we think it may hurt the other person’s feelings.”
It sounds like everything I’ve ever wanted from Hunter, but now that he’s said the words out loud, the whole concept seems a bit daunting.
Do I actually want brutal honesty?
Does anyone?
“What do you want me to be honest about?” I ask him.
“Do you want to marry me, Megan?”
Well, shit, he’s not pulling any punches.
“I think so.”
He gives me a light peck on the lips.
“I appreciate your honesty, but that answer is not what a man wants to hear when he proposes to the woman he loves, so we put marriage off for now. Agreed?”
I swallow thickly, and it feels like a lump of clay is becoming stuck in my lower esophagus. Put our marriage off? Just like that? Well, damn, brutal honesty hurts.
“Agreed," I say softly.
“How about one more question? Then we will go fix you and my baby a proper breakfast.”
“Okay,” I reply, afraid of what he will ask next.
“No, I mean you ask me one this time.”
“Oh.”
I think carefully about my question, not wanting to ruin the intimacy of the moment or our recent reconciliation.
“Is my family alive?”
Hunter’s face goes blank. He wasn’t expecting me to ask about them ever again, but I’m not sure that was a realistic expectation. I need closure about those psychopaths either way, plus a part of me wants to know who I’m genuinely sleeping with.
“Yes.”
Knowing what I know about Hunter and everything I’ve seen, I ask him the next logical question.
“Why?”
“Because a part of you is still emotionally tied to them, or you wouldn’t have asked the question. I knew that already. There are many ways to keep them permanently out of your life without putting them in the ground. Killing them would have weighed heavily on your conscience."
“And not yours?”
“Are you worried that you are having a baby with the devil?”
“No, I’m just worried that I’m sleeping with a devil I don’t know.”
He cradles my face with his hands and kisses my forehead. “You know this devil better than anyone on this earth, but you need to get to a place where you believe that. We’ll get there, but for now, let’s eat.”
He lifts me, and I naturally wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us into the kitchen. He places me on the granite counter and kisses the inside of my left palm before he walks away.
“You start the bacon while I go pee.”
“And after breakfast?” I ask as he heads to the bathroom.
“We move your pretty ass back into this apartment where you belong, and then…we fuck.”