33. THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-THREE
The hot spray may as well have been a dive into a frozen lake with how fast it sobered me up. It started when I peeled my sticky sweats off, my dick covered in cum, and kind of red from rubbing it against the material so aggressively.
In the moment, I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t until I stepped into the shower, the water washing away the alcohol’s warmth, that I realized what I had done. I’m still reeling over it, hiding in the bathroom, ripping at my thumb with my teeth.
Putting the brace back on my leg, I am drowning in something like shame.
He specifically told me we couldn’t kiss again, but we did it two more times.
We are bonding faster than I can keep up with.
Being goofy with him, playing games, and sharing our secrets means more to me than he could ever know.
I haven’t felt this way since my parents were alive. I’m terrified to lose this connection.
But I also know I took things way too far.
That kiss was just too good, my body aching for Hunter’s nearness.
I don’t even remember feeling turned on.
And to top it all off, I feel like a selfish fuck for not offering to return the favor.
Despite him not touching me, he aided in my orgasm—made sure I got my cock enough friction, refused to let me go while I humped him like a fucking teenager.
A sharp sting pulls me out of my head, a bead of crimson forming at the soft, fleshy skin under the stump of a thumbnail. I suck the blood away while trying to ignore the rising nausea in my stomach.
What is going to happen now? Hunter didn’t seem upset when he left me in here, but what if his shower was equally as eye-opening? What if he thinks I’m…too much?
How the hell do I fix this?
Erase my temporary insanity so that I can keep him longer?
It hits me like a freight train, so forceful and brutal that I palm my chest.
I want to keep him. I want him to be mine.
There’s this sense of knowing—of recognition —deep in my heart.
Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, mudding up my brain, but there’s no denying this need for Hunter has grown into a certifiable monster.
It’s consuming me from the inside out, brushing under my skin and itching to escape into the open.
I first felt it stir when he mentioned Brent’s bitch ass.
Then it rumbled against my ribs when I saw Leonard.
I imagine it’ll be downright bloodthirsty if other men come sniffing around.
Hunter has never done this before—never. That has to mean something, right? That I’m special…that he wants me too.
Frustrated, head still spinning, I creep over to the bathroom door and listen. When I can’t detect any noise, I crack it open and poke my head out. Hunter is walking down the stairs. Those oversized pajamas are back in place, hair slicked back and wet, and his posture is rigid.
“Oh,” he says, startled. “I didn’t see you. Was the shower okay?”
I frown hard. That is what he wants to know. My shower? “Sure.”
He nods, feet hitting the bottom step before walking over to where I’m partially hidden behind the door. “Is it going to be weird now?” I blurt, needing to know this information.
“How so?” His head cocks.
“I…we…all that,” I wave my hand behind me, gesturing to the bathroom, “will it be weird now?”
“No,” he says carefully. “Nothing happened.”
My mouth pops open in surprise. “Something definitely happened.”
“ Oh . That .” His hand shoots to his hair, running his fingers through it as he ducks his head. Am I that fucking forgettable? “I meant that we didn’t actually…touch if that makes sense?”
“We kissed, and I fucked your stomach,” I say dryly.
His head snaps up. “I thought you wouldn’t want to discuss or mention it again.”
“Why?”
Stepping closer, he places a hand on the door frame, leaning into me. “Because we were drunk—still are—and I wasn’t sure what it meant. I’m trying to navigate this the best I can, Gray.”
The fire in my gut simmers down to a low ember.
Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I close the gap between us, placing my hands on his chest. The muscles flex under my touch, his eyes never leave mine, and I let one palm slide up to his face.
“Me too. But it’s harder for me to pretend it doesn’t mean anything.
” I drag my thumb over his pulse point, finding the steady gallop beneath it.
He grabs my hip, tugs me flush against him, and presses his lips to my forehead. We stay like this for long seconds while his soft breaths blow over my scalp. “I wish I could be more for you,” he admits in a whisper.
The arm wrapping around him tightens, my fingers digging into his nape.
I can’t help the desperate way I touch him.
Both sensations of my stomach bottoming out and my heart racing have me pulled in two directions: dread and ruthless anticipation.
I hate what he tells me, but I am greedily willing to accept whatever he offers.
“How did we get here?” I whisper.
“That’s easy,” he rasps, finally leaning back so we can see each other. Using the backs of his knuckles, he gently caresses my cheek, searching my eyes and thoroughly fucking me up inside. “I couldn’t forget about you—didn’t want to. I still don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I know.” My brows pinch together. “I just know.”
“Know what?”
He shakes his head, steps away from me, and leaves a brutal chill in his wake. “Come on, let’s get some food in us, or it’ll be a bad morning tomorrow.”
I nod, shell-shocked by his vague admission because it was an admission. What does he know?
Hunter’s holds his hips while he stares at the lack of food in his kitchen. He hums thoughtfully after pulling out everything from his freezer and pantry and organizing it all by size. I don’t know what he plans on making, but the options aren’t great.
We have cookie dough ice cream, a random bag of frozen corn, some saltine crackers, a few cans of salmon, and olive oil. He didn’t bother with the fridge, only housing hazelnut coffee creamer and some water.
“When’s the last time you went to the store?” I ask, amused.
“I don’t usually go to them. I’ll order in or have my dad’s grocer bring me what I need.”
Why am I surprised by this? “Your dad has a grocer ?”
He nods, bending to rest his forearms on the counter to get a better look at the items. The motion makes his ass pop, and I’m only now noticing the round curve of it.
Quickly averting my eyes, I walk over to where he’s leaning and drum my fingers over the marble.
“I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but none of that makes a meal. ”
“It could. It’d just be a gross one.”
“Very gross.”
Hanging his head so it, too, is pressed against the counter, he groans in defeat. “I’m so dizzy.”
“Hung over all ready?” I tease, nudging his side.
“Think so. We need food.”
I don’t want to presume or tell him to buy me anything, but this isn’t just for me. If it were, I’d go without easily. Granted, the nerves of our situation and the whiskey gurgling in my stomach are signaling all sorts of foreboding. I don’t want to be sick tomorrow…or in the next hour.
“Want to order in?”
“Yeah.” But he doesn’t move.
“Hunter?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you falling asleep?”
I lean down so I can see his face, and sure enough, his eyes are closed, his mouth slack. “Hey,” I bark, and he snorts, slurping up some drool and lifting his head. “Hey,” I say softer. “Don’t go to sleep standing up.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” he argues, then groans. “I feel horrible.”
The color drains from his cheeks; a loud rumble goes off in his stomach, followed by the wettest hiccup I’ve ever heard. “Come on,” I urge, grabbing his arm and guiding him to the sink.
Just as he grips the edge, he throws up.
Thankfully, it’s mostly liquor and foam, but he whimpers between purges.
His knuckles blanch as he holds on for dear life.
My hand flies to his back, and I rub up and down to try to soothe him.
When I’m confident he isn’t going to throw up more, I pull the retractable hose out of its slot and rinse down the sink.
“All better?” I ask, grabbing a paper towel and wiping his mouth.
He nods. “Thank you.”
“Those crackers might be a good thing.”
I help him stand, my arm around his waist while he grabs the crackers.
We make a pit stop at the fridge for water first, and together, we then limp into the living room and collapse on the stiff couch.
I nibble on the crackers while feeding some to Hunter.
We sip our waters and end up cuddling again.
It feels so natural to me, so right. I can't muster up the mental strength to combat it any longer, so I accept it for what it is—the end of our day.
Tomorrow, I’ll reevaluate.
Tomorrow, I’ll know if this is worth it.