Chapter 5 Hunter
“She’s a fucking menace, Hunter! The most goddamn infuriating woman I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. The stylist said it’s going to take at least four fucking sessions before my hair is back to normal!”
I bite my knuckle to keep my laughter from bubbling up. “Well, you did start it by putting salt in her coffee. Did you really think she wouldn’t retaliate?”
A large man steps in front of my table, blocking my view. I cluck my tongue, shifting right, then left to get eyes back on my target.
Dude, get the hell out of my way.
“I didn’t think she’d go crazy and put hair dye in my shampoo!”
I’m about to reach over the table and physically move the guy when he finally steps aside—completely unaware he was obstructing my line of sight. Relief washes through me as my target reappears, laughing and chatting it up with her date.
If she’d disappeared in that short window, I would’ve had to murder someone tonight.
As it is, my fingers itch to curl into fists and smash them into the man occupying my rabbit’s time. He’s basically a carbon copy of me—tall, olive skin, similar build, even the same style of dark, wavy hair.
Bunny has a type. And that type is me.
It should be me sitting there with her. Me putting that smile on her face. Me taking her home to fuck her within an inch of her life tonight. And it sure as hell won’t be the douche who—
He brushes her knee. Dares to touch her exposed, naked flesh.
Bunny’s mossy eyes flick down to where their skin connects, a flash of hesitation sparking before she smothers it under her usual seductive stare.
Her lips curve in a luscious grin as she lifts her gaze to his.
It’s flirtatious—and, as far as I’m concerned, a green light for the bastard.
Fuck. That.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not listening to a word I’m saying?
Tell me you didn’t follow Bunny after work and are now stalking her and her date.
” Wren’s exhausted tone filters through my phone.
I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You’re a detective, Hunter. You know stalking is illegal. ”
“Who said anything about stalking? Not my fault they ended up at the same place I decided to grab dinner tonight.”
Except it is my fault. Because I did follow Bunny after hearing her nonchalantly mention—loudly, I might add—to Heather in the forensic lab about where her date was taking her. She wanted me to come. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have ensured I overheard.
Bunny is just as good at trapping me in her snares as I am her.
“Jesus, Hunter. You two really do have issues.” Wrenley sighs as I abandon my dinner and push through the crowd toward them.
“Don’t we all?” I murmur. My friend is definitely not without his own troubled problems. “Talk later.”
I hang up before he can reply, sliding my phone into my pocket just as I reach Bunny and her date.
“Well, fancy running into you here, Little Rabbit.”
Her eyes flick up. There’s no shock, no annoyance—almost… relief. I thrust my hand at the man sitting across from her, deliberately angling my body so he has to pull his hand off her knee.
“Detective Hunter Remington. Bunny and I work together.”
I can feel her silently begging me to intervene, even if she doesn’t realize she’s doing it—her knees caging me where I stand between her legs.
“Chad Drake.” He shakes my hand, sizing me up before flicking a glance at Bunny.
“Of course your name is Chad.” I laugh, not caring that it’s rude. “Well, I hope you had a good evening, Chad, but I think it’s time for you to leave now.”
Bunny’s knees press infinitesimally into my thighs. “Don’t be rude, Hunter. You’re the one who doesn’t belong here right now.”
Her saccharine lilt drips with playfulness. This poor guy never stood a chance. She knew I’d hunt her down tonight. Knows I’ll never let another man take her home. Honestly, I think she counts on me showing up at this point.
Because at the end of the day, Bunny knows she’s mine.
I rest my arm along the outside of her thigh, pulling her leg snug against my waist as I continue my silent standoff with my doppelg?nger. Up close, the flaws are obvious—patchy beard, too much product in his hair, and eyes the wrong shade of brown.
Why go for Temu’s knockoff when you can have the handcrafted original?
“Don’t be silly, Little Rabbit.” I don’t break eye contact with Chad, who’s looking at me like a fly in his wine.
“You made sure I knew where you’d be so I could save you from a night of boring, meaningless conversation—and take you home to have hot, mind-blowing foreplay that’ll leave us both with blue balls.
Well, I’ll have blue balls. You’ll probably get an orgasm out of it, because I’m feeling generous tonight. ”
“Hunter!” Bunny smacks my ass, though amusement cracks through her dramatized scolding.
A smirk tugs my lips as Chad Drake—what kind of fucking name is Chad Drake anyway?—throws up his hands and slides off his bar stool. “Yeah, I’m out. Sorry, babe. You’re hot, but not hot enough for these kinds of games.”
Bunny huffs, affronted, as I cock my head and narrow my eyes, letting my words cut him as he retreats.
“She’s hot enough to play every game in the damn universe… even if you lose every time.”
Chad snorts and mutters, “Weirdos,” as he disappears.
“Well, that was uncalled for.” Bunny crosses her arms, and I finally turn fully toward her, pressing closer, using the arm looped around her thigh to pull her into me.
I don’t care that we’re in the middle of a crowded restaurant. I don’t care that this caveman move probably has her soaked and that she’s likely ready to make a mess all over the glossed oak stool she’s perched on.
“Was it, though? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want me to crash your little show?” I push her hair behind her shoulder and cup her neck, my thumb nudging her chin up so she has to meet my gaze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her smile is sweet, but her gold-flecked green gaze darkens—like the forest floor at sunset. “You take women out all the time, Hunter. What’s it matter if I get my rocks off with a stranger?”
The thought of her getting off with anyone else makes my blood boil. My grip tightens. My other hand slides to her waist, brushing the smooth strip of skin between her black skirt and lavender top.
“I haven’t taken a woman out in years, Bunny. What are you talking about?”
She rolls her eyes, though her body melts into my touch as I trace my thumb over her skin. Her words drip with sass. “Please. Some badge bunny tagged you in a photo when you took her to dinner.”
There’s a crack in her tone—a trace of hurt buried under her practiced delivery. It’s annoyingly adorable.
It also turns my cock to granite.
Without warning, I lift her off the stool, sliding her down my body until her stilettos hit the floor. Neither of us speaks as I toss cash on the counter, grab her hand, and lead her out through the crowded space.
New York summer nights are humid and stifling, but nothing compares to the heat radiating from Bunny as I round the ancient brick structure and pin her to the wall. I have over a foot on her, so I brace my hands above her head and bend close.
“Listen to me, Little Rabbit. I have no idea what you’re talking about.
But your sass is lighting a fire in my cock that only your pussy can put out.
So if you’re done accusing me of bullshit that never happened, admit you’re mine already so I can take you home and fuck you in the most disrespectful way imaginable. ”
She pushes at my chest, making space between us as she digs into her purse. My cock throbs painfully against my zipper as she swipes through her screen, finds what she wants, and holds it up. “See? She tagged you. So don’t lie to me.”
“Are you fucking kidding? Bunny, I don’t get on social media.
I didn’t see any tags—but I can promise you that isn’t me.
I’d have to be fucking stupid to take out a badge bunny when I’m completely enamored with you.
And you know that.” I push her phone away.
She knows I’m not the kind of guy who would accept tags on photos, even if I were active on my profile.
Her defiance falters. She sags against the wall, gaze dropping to the dirty asphalt. The city hums around us as she chews her lip. I straighten and cradle her cheek, my thumb brushing the tiny red foil hearts that decorate her skin.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I whisper the request into the shared space between us, imploring her to give in already. Give in to this thing between us that sparked so long ago and never extinguished. “You have been in nearly every way imaginable—except the way that counts. Give me your consent, Bunny.”
“You have my consent, Hunter. You’ve always had it. That isn’t the issue and you know it.” Her tone is stiff as she lifts her chin. Unshed tears cling to her thick lashes as her brows pinch and her voice cracks. “You just can’t have my heart.”
It feels like the organ in question takes a hammer to mine, even though this isn’t the first time she’s said it. She’s scared. I know. She went through hell. No matter how hard I try to convince her otherwise, she’s terrified of being shattered again.
Which is exactly why I press a chaste kiss to her forehead. “One day you’ll give it to me. Until then, I can wait.”
“Hunter…” She fists my white button-up and drags herself against me. “Just take me home.”
It physically hurts to shake my head. I peel her hands off my shirt and lead her to the curb to hail a cab. “I want all of you, Bunny. Not just part of you.”
I don’t tell her the truth—that it terrifies me to take her to bed without the promise of commitment. It’s not that I’m the type who waits for marriage—we’ve had sex before.
It’s because the last time I took her to bed, I woke up alone.
And then she disappeared for the better part of a year, taking my heart with her.