Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Hunter
Fuck. Elliot’s lips are as soft as I imagined they would be. All pillowy and pouty and damn right addictive.
This isn’t how I thought our first kiss would go. I imagined it would be somewhere private. Where I could take my time with him, nibble and suck on these full lips until he’s trembling, and find out all the areas on his body that drive him wild.
Instead, we have the sounds of the firework show on the Riverwalk and the pier behind us, lighting up the night sky in a multitude of colors while my insides swoop with a flurry of butterflies. I haven’t had this feeling for such a long fucking time.
I brush my mouth over his, soft and tantalizingly slow, and his hands tighten around the fabric of my sweatshirt where he’s gripping my sides.
I’m torn between wanting to devour him and savoring this moment.
He’s the first man I’ve kissed since my husband.
Hookups were one thing I could disassociate from.
It was simply fulfilling a need. Scratching an itch.
But kissing? Kissing can be intimate. You can say a thousand words with a kiss, without speaking a single one.
I need you. I want you. I miss you. I’m here for you. I love you.
Maybe it’s juvenile for me to think that way, but I couldn’t bring myself to kiss another man after I had the startling realization that the last time I kissed Duncan, I had no idea it was our final goodbye.
Well. Up until now.
I trace the outline of Elliot’s mouth with my tongue, and when he parts them to allow me to slip inside, I moan. He tastes like lemon and something sweet.
“Mhm,” I hum, sliding my hand around to sink my fingers into the hair on his nape.
His answering moan goes straight to my cock.
I pull him closer, pressing our bodies together until there isn’t an inch of space between us.
I know we don’t have long before this bubble bursts around us.
If it isn’t for a call that comes through, it’ll be for how fucking cold it is out here, and I don’t want him to get sick.
Angling my head to the side, I deepen the kiss.
The pop and sizzle of the fireworks echo the electricity that’s running through my veins.
Elliot melts into me. His tongue meets mine with each stroke, and I greedily swallow every noise of pleasure he makes as my grip tightens in his hair.
My cock thickens in my briefs, and the ache in my balls has me wanting to press Elliot against the wall, wedge my thigh between his legs, and grind my hips into his.
But before things can escalate, shouting comes from inside the firehouse, and it’s the reminder I need to cool things down. I’m on shift. We could get a call at any moment, and what use will I be if I’m rocking a hard-on that could break through glass?
Reluctantly, I release him and pull back slightly, enough to see his flushed cheeks and swollen pink lips. He blinks up at me with those big green eyes, and I smile instantly.
He’s so fucking gorgeous.
“Happy New Year, El,” I murmur before brushing my lips over his again in a tender kiss. “I hope this year is everything you want it to be.”
He smiles against my mouth, but before he can reply, the alarm sounds, and my spine stiffens. I don’t want to leave him, but I have to go.
Luckily, Elliot makes it easier for me as he’s the one who takes a step back.
“Go,” he says. He glances down at his hands still gripping my sweatshirt before letting me go with a soft chuckle. “Okay, now you can go.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?” I ask, already walking back toward the door.
“Yeah, I have a late morning practice, though. I can text you when I’m home?”
“Okay, that sounds good.” I agree, and then my eyes drop to his lips.
Fuck.
Just one more.
I close the gap between us in three strides and slam my mouth over his. He lets out a husky groan, and it takes everything in me to release him.
“I have to go,” I mumble.
“I know,” he whispers.
“Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
I jog to the door, and when I swing it open, I’m greeted by the sound of everyone rushing around. I’m about to disappear inside when he calls out my name, and I turn to face him.
He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets. A flash of vulnerability crosses his face before he gives me a boyish smile. “Happy New Year, Hunter. I hope this year brings you all the happiness.”
Grinning, I give him a wink before heading inside.
For the first time in seven years, there’s a blossom of hope in my chest.
And he might be the reason for it.
From the moment I leave Elliot and climb into the truck, it’s nonstop.
We get called to kitchen fires, misuse of illegal fireworks, some of which result in burns, car accidents, and three drunk and disorderly brawls.
By the time 8:00 a.m. rolls around, I’m completely beat.
The only thing keeping me upright is the thought of seeing Elliot later.
Fuck, I can still feel his lips against mine. It’s been driving me wild. I’ve kissed him once, and I already feel starved, desperate for my next fix of him.
I skip showering at the firehouse, deciding to shower at home so I don’t get caught up here.
I send a quick text to my parents and wish them a happy new year before climbing into my truck and driving home.
They won’t reply. They never do. Our conversation is a sea of blue bubbles, with the occasional response filtered in.
My parents still live in Massachusetts, and we’ve never been close.
It was like they were waiting for the moment I could fend for myself so they could get on with their lives.
Hell, my dad practically pushed me out the door and threw my bags into my car when I left for the Navy, like they couldn’t wait to get rid of me.
But they’re still my parents, even if Walt has been more of a father to me in these last few years than his own brother.
When I get home, I find my uncle rummaging in one of the kitchen cupboards. He’s whistling to himself, his walking cane perched against the countertop next to him.
I rap my knuckles on the wooden doorframe to announce my presence. He lifts his head and flashes a toothy grin my way.
“Mornin’, son. Happy New Year to you and all that jazz. You want some waffles?” he asks, retrieving the waffle iron.
“You know I’ll never turn down the chance to have waffles. Want me to do some bacon?”
He points his finger at me. “It’s like you know me too well.”
Chuckling to myself, I grab the bacon from the fridge. We work alongside each other in silence. Me frying up some strips of bacon. Walt working his magic with the waffle machine. By the time we sit down at the table, I’m itching to talk to someone about last night.
Without taking my eyes off my plate, I blurt out, “So you know how I’ve met someone?”
Ignoring Walt’s stare boring into me, I take a bite of my food. I chew and swallow it down before glancing up to see his fork is paused midair, and his eyebrow arched.
“What?” I ask stupidly.
“Yes. Are you finally going to tell me who is he?”
“His name’s Elliot. We, uh… we met last year. When I did that event for the Chicago Thunder hockey team. But we bumped into each other again a few weeks ago.”
His bushy gray eyebrows almost hit his hairline as his fork clatters onto his plate. “He’s a hockey player?”
I snort. “Yes.” I take another bite of my food, knowing my delaying the conversation will be pissing him off. “He’s the goaltender, actually.”
“Elliot Olsen?” His voice pitches up a note. “You’re telling me you’re dating Elliot Olsen. No. Wait. You didn’t tell me you’re dating Elliot Olsen?”
“We’re not dating,” I correct. “Well, not yet. I kinda told him I liked him a lot last night, but I come with a shitload of baggage, and I’d tell him everything today, so I don’t know how it’s going to go.”
He huffs out a breath. “You need to at least give him a chance. I mean, you didn’t exactly sell yourself. ‘Hi, I’m Hunter. I’m a good-looking guy, and I’m a little quirky in the head, but I’m a nice gent. Want to date me?’”
I crack up laughing and flip him off. “Fuck off.”
His mustache wiggles as the corner of his lips tips up in a smile. “No, I won’t, but seriously. Give the guy a chance. He’s a hockey player.” He says the last few words in the same tone someone would say ten million dollars.
And while I know he doesn’t mean it negatively, the need to defend Elliot flares inside me. “He’s more than just a hockey player, Walt.”
He gives me an annoyed look. “I know that,” he grumbles. “So, what are you going to do?”
I take another bite of my food and allow the question to sit in my mind for a moment.
What am I going to do? It’s not like we’re in the easiest position to get to know each other.
I work twenty-four-hour shifts, and he’s a professional hockey player who travels for more than half of the year.
Plus, Walt wasn’t kidding either. There’s a reason I don’t sleep well or avoid sleeping altogether.
There are times, particularly after a stressful call, where I’m struck in an endless loop of mental terror.
It’s like the moment I close my eyes, memories from when I was deployed run through my brain like a movie.
Or my imagination likes to conjure up a scene of the night I lost everything.
Do I really want to subject Elliot to my mess?
What if I let him down, like I did Duncan? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Elliot got hurt.
“Don’t,” Walt bites, his tone sharp enough to have me snapping out of my thoughts. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. You deserve to be happy, Hunter. What happened wasn’t your fault, and don’t let whatever bullshit your brain is saying tell you otherwise.”
I simply nod in response, wishing it weren’t easier said than done.
“Hey,” Elliot says with a lopsided smile. Before I can respond, he opens the door wider, inviting me in.