Something Like Sunflowers

Chapter 17

Devyn

H unter spins me around, eyes wide with hope.

“Did you just say okay?”

And that snaps me out of it. Shit.

“Nothing official,” I quickly amend, and I don’t miss the hurt in his eyes when I clarify that little tidbit. But one night of dancing…dancing that made me wish the ballroom was a bedroom, mind you…doesn’t fix the hurt I carry with me when we’re together. Even if there’s also something deliciously electric happening between us.

I squeeze his bicep. His huge bicep .

Shit. Focus! “I’m not opposed to exploring these feelings, but things need to move slowly.”

If we’re going to let them move at all.

He raises a brow at me, wetting his lips with his tongue as he thinks about my conditions.

“Is this some sort of Cinderella thing? You’re not gonna run off on me at midnight and never come back, right?”

I shake my head, tugging at my bottom lip with my teeth so he can’t make me smile like he wants to.

Like I want him to.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. And I especially wouldn’t leave magical glass shoes behind…have you met me?”

The energy in the air shifts with my promise. Hunter takes his time reading my face. It feels intimate, even though we aren’t touching. If you told me Hunter Isaac had figured out a way to peer straight through to my soul, I’d believe you. I’ve felt him do it before.

I feel him doing it now.

Or maybe I don’t know what I’m feeling.

Lust?

You haven’t had sex with anyone since Chad-the-soon-to-be-dad. You’re feeling lonely. And now the man you’ve spent the last, oh, fifteen something years fantasizing about, under the darkest layers of your bedsheets, is here in front of you with everything you think you need.

That’s the keyword. Think. Is Hunter what I need? I don’t know. I just think.

And I think I’d be wise to lighten the mood. If we’re going to be anything, it has to be casual. For the sake of not only our potential jobs, but everything.

I hold out my hand to the cowboy in front of me and give him a sassy grin. “Besides, even if I wanted to escape you, I don’t have a pumpkin.”

“But you have a Lemon!”

Like magic, Lemon has appeared before us, and three drinks rest on a tray that, thank the lord , look way more my speed than whiskey and whatever the hell is in a pinkie.

“We’re about to play some new bar game on Robbie’s phone.” She hands us the Coronas with limes, and even though I think I should be jealous, seeing as how there is no way in the world Lemon knows my go-to drink is a Corona with a lime unless someone told her. That someone being her new bestie, Shana…that’s just the thing.

I’m…

I’m not jealous.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m not jealous!”

I probably look like a lunatic right now, and yeah, I’ve had alcohol, so someone’s going to chalk it up and say I’m drunk, but I’m not .

Okay, I probably am a little.

But that’s not why I look like a lunatic.

“I’m not jealous of your relationship with Shana!”

At first, Lemon seems concerned, scooting back and pursing her lips as she inspects my eyes to see just how drunk I might be. I am feeling good, but I’m not that drunk. I swat her away.

“I don’t hate you anymore. I just realized it. I don’t know what you did to me, but I think…I think the truce healed me.” I look at my hand in Lemon’s and smile. “I don’t think I’m a bitch anymore!”

Lemon and Hunter burst into a fit of laughter. Hunter folds over, holding on to a nearby barstool, and Lemon fans herself as she blows out delicate little jets of air on a, “Hooooo, Devyn, girl. I need some of what you’ve been getting. Jeremy!” She waves at our friend, huh…our friend . “Get me as good as you got Little Miss Whiskey over here. She’s a hoot!”

The bar collectively cheers as “Country” by Jason Aldean comes on the speakers and several patrons shimmy their boots to the dance floor. I can’t explain how surreal it feels being in this atmosphere. Feeling free. I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks might burst open from the pressure.

I wouldn’t be surprised if I were in a dream.

One where my heart wasn’t torn from me far too soon, and I never left this little town. This group. There are people here I care about. Dustin, Jeremy, Lemon, Hunter, Shana…maybe even Robbie and Katie, who knows?

And they call me their friend . They laugh when I’m being a bitch instead of scoff.

They accept me as I am and genuinely seem to want me around, whether I bring the thick accent and cute one-liners, whether I win silver or gold crowns, whether I wear platform booties or dusty old shitkickers. They prefer the shit. They embrace the kicking.

And Hunter. He’s…

I try to remind myself of the false promises ripped from within me and thrown out, the sting of abandonment when those voids never felt emptier. I remind myself that Hunter’s tryst with infidelity wasn’t the only time I felt betrayed by a man who knew the darkest of my secrets. Anytime I open myself to someone I think I could love. Then I learn it’s conditional.

Everyone has conditions.

But ten years, I think as I’m pulled through the bar by the grown-up version of the boy I fell in love with before I even knew the meaning of the word. A man who smirks for thousands, but somehow only has eyes for one right now. And it’s me.

And I’m his girl. Tonight, at least.

I promised him that much, after all. To try .

The long, wooden table we’re led to is carved from red oak, and finished with a unique flair that could only have been done by the same company Dustin’s came from. They’re almost identical in hue and stain. But I inspected Dustin’s furniture once it caught my eye, and there was no company logo or branding. And he practically flipped his own farmhouse from what I saw earlier.

Did my brother do these? That would be a newer hobby he picked up, if that’s the case, because I had no idea. But then, I wouldn’t know about anything new or old.

Ten years is far longer than I realized. And it isn’t only Hunter and my brother reminding me of that.

W e scooch into the bench seats and all the way to the far corner, nestled in a darker part of the dining area. I’m glad we aren’t too close to the center of the table. The way we’re positioned at the angle, it’s like our own private space. It’s awkward enough being somewhere you didn’t feel like you belonged even before you left. But being surrounded by a handful of familiar, yet foreign faces in this little group of Hunter’s is panic inducing.

Where did this stage fright come from? It’s unfamiliar and unwelcome, and I wonder faintly in the back of my head if these bouts of nerves lately don’t corelate pretty damn directly to times when I’m trying not to be fake.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I’ve been fake so long I get nervous being me? I mean, it makes total sense. I’ve always put on a face, an act, a show. And it’s never failed to earn me a crown.

Whether that be an actual one or a metaphorical one.

Nobody’s ever called me a winner for being just plain Devyn. Is Just-Plain-Devyn someone anyone even wants?

Do I want her?

Faces I grew up seeing smaller, younger versions of, surround us. They’re all grown up. Smiling. Laughing. It’s nostalgic to say the least. And while I feel like half of my emotions are probably drunk-girl feelings, the other half of me knows with experience that a drunk girl’s words are a sober girl’s thoughts.

Do I like it here? I think I do. So, what does that mean?

I chew on my lip, mulling over the feelings.

Hunter, Lemon, Home.

“You okay there, princess?”

I jump, startled by his words.

“Forever daydreaming.” He smirks, pressing the glass bottle to his lips. I watch as he takes a swig, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, but totally knownst to my ho of a vajayjay, I continue to watch his Adam’s apple push a path along his throat as he swallows.

“I always loved that about you,” he says, eyes crinkling at the edges.

He leans in, and my lips part involuntarily, my skin tingling with the proximity of his perfectly sculpted body, so flush with mine. Close enough that his heat is mine. And it’s scorching right now. Hunter is infuriating sometimes.

I spend hours choosing my outfits, but this man has the audacity to look sinful as all get-out in nothing but a pair of tight jeans, dirty shit-kickers, and a plain white T-shirt. His sleeves are stretched so tight over his biceps that they hardly look comfortable. I really should rip the cotton from his body and free them.

And run my fingers over the ridges.

I fan myself, turning my face away from him before he can see how he’s affecting me . I want him so bad I can’t stand to be beside him.

Hunter hooks an arm around me, his fingers twining through the ribbons of hair that flow down my back. I sigh wistfully, leaning into the crook of his arm, my heart skittering with the smell of his cologne and the way his body tightens around mine when he feels me nuzzle in.

He runs light trails up and down my side with his fingers, and a wake of goosebumps follows. They follow everywhere he touches. Down my arms. Over my thighs. I gasp when they move in between my legs, which part for him all on their own, stretching open as far as my jean skirt will allow.

Nobody can see beneath the table, especially with the corner we’ve somehow managed to find ourselves conveniently nestled into. I turn my head into his neck and bite down to stifle a moan when he guides his rough fingers along the lace edges of my panties, the teasing touch of his fingers almost too much to handle. But the thought of him stopping is almost unbearable all the same.

“Don’t stop,” I mutter breathlessly.

Reminding myself of why I shouldn’t do this is completely useless right now. I don’t give a fuck what Past-Devyn has to say about this, Present-Devyn wants this man’s fingers to slide approximately one centimeter to the left and make a shit ton of little circles until she comes into oblivion right under this suspiciously beautiful table.

I might be drinking, and I might regret my decisions, but a few drinks do not beer goggles make, and I’m certain right now, as I move my hand over his jeans and make my way straight to the hardness pressing tightly against his zipper, that he’s done being cordial about this, too.

I lean closer, licking my lips as he stiffens beneath my hand.

“I’m going to touch you,” I tell him. It’s not a request for permission, or even a question. It’s just a truth we both seem to be living in the middle of.

Hunter nods, his mouth turning up on the sides, and leaning back to give me better access, his eyes roaming my body and lingering appreciatively over my lips, my chest. My heartbeat quickens and flames kick up in my belly, a fire scorching beneath my skin and heating me at my core. He chuckles when I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, unsuccessfully suppressing a whimper.

“So needy,” he whispers into my ear, guiding me by my waist into his lap. With his hard body behind me like this and his strong arms holding me down, I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

But that’s okay with me.

There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now than precisely where I am.

His hard cock pressing into my ass makes my pussy clench, and he groans, throwing his leather jacket over my lap and fisting my skirt, hiking it up higher as he trails hot kisses across the back of my neck. His fingers feel like electricity with each point of contact, making me hot and static. I could explode at any minute.

And the sexy asshole knows this, chuckling low and sensual, his voice a smoky velvet that pours into my senses with warmth and promise. I gasp, his fingers brushing over my panties and stopping to pinch my clit through the fabric every so often. And the crazy part is, I don’t even care what’s going on around me. I’m here for this. So wet, and I’m not even a bit embarrassed by that.

It’s his fault.

He’s done this to me. Turned me into a wild, hungry beast who wants nothing more than to devour his heart and keep it inside of me. To feel him there always, to fill the empty spaces in my soul.

I’m bucking against his lap now, shifting my weight back and forth and wishing he’d fucking do something about the ache I just can’t seem to sate with rocking alone.

“Touch me.” I press the back of my head against his shoulder, whispering the command in his ear, breathy and lust filled. I hardly recognize the voice coming out of my mouth.

He groans, smirking at me dangerously, but then he complies, cupping my entire pussy and using two fingers to juice me like an orange, until I’m dripping all over his hand, grinding against it, and— oh my, oh God, I want every part of him.

Where did this Hunter even come from? The last time we were together, it was not like this. I mean, no man has ever been like this…this… skilled.

Nobody except the ones in books. That’s what he’s got. That thirst trap thing. That look in his eye that makes thousands of women subscribe and save. He’s a walking book boyfriend. And I am hopeless against that kind of power.

I grind against him harder, rubbing my ass along his erection and wishing we didn’t have these barriers between us, like clothing, and…well, an audience.

“Such a filthy little princess,” he whispers, kissing down my throat. He places both hands on my hips, guiding me with a rough grip. My pussy clenches because of his words. They’re dirty and so…

“Ooh,” I moan when he bites my ear, still rocking me along his shaft through his jeans like it’s high school all over again and we haven’t yet done things under the clothes.

“Only bad girls wear tiny skirts and dance all over assholes to make their boyfriends jealous, you know.”

He pinches my clit again, and the sting shoots through my center, settling over my swollen core and sending little ripples of pleasure shooting through me. I rock harder, and he lets out a groan of approval, tightening his hold on my sides, his fingers digging into my flesh in an almost bruising grip.

“That’s it, babygirl, rub that dripping little pussy on me. I want to walk out of here stained with your cum all over my jeans, so nobody ever questions whose girl you are again.”

Oh, my God, he’s filthy.

He runs his fingertips over my swollen center but doesn’t leave them there nearly long enough. I whine in protest, shoving my ass hard against his cock and grinding down.

“So fucking needy.” His lips press against my neck as he pinches my clit. I gasp and look around the table to make sure nobody saw, but he only seems pleased with that, chuckling when I clench my muscles in protest to his teasing.

I pull away, worry creeping in that I’m drawing too much attention when I see Robbie flick his eyes our way one too many times, but Hunter pulls me back against his chest, my arms pinned to my sides like I’m in a straitjacket, and it’s hot as fuck. I can’t lie. It’s rough and forceful, and nothing like what I imagined.

It’s better.

With his free hand, he spreads me open and pushes his two middle fingers inside of me, and it’s more than something. It’s everything. I clutch the table and steady myself as he pumps his fingers into me, spreading my juices, and evidence of my clear as fuck arousal, all over my pussy.

“Mmm, see what I mean, princess? So fucking wet down here.” He pinches my clit, twisting, playing. Taking his time. Hunter Isaac is the fucking king of thirst traps. He rubs circles around my sensitive bud of nerves, making me moan and buck against his hand, leaning my head back, and closing my eyes.

“Look at you, such a little tease. Letting me put my fingers inside of this tight little pussy in public. But I can’t fuck you, can I, babygirl?”

He winks, and yeah, that does it for me. For fucking sure it does. But it’s his words that send me over. This is all new territory for me and Hunter.

First of all, I thought I wouldn’t ever in my life meet a man who talked like that and didn’t exist in the pages of a book. And second of all, the last time I had sex with Hunter Isaac, we weren’t old enough to have preferences. We didn’t know about kinks .

So, then, how does he know all of mine?

“I like that,” I tell him in short breaths as he pinches my clit again. He does it faster, using my cum to coat his fingers so they’ll slide around as he squeezes. And suddenly, I’m turning my face to his neck, as I release a shudder into his ear and my orgasm takes over my body. I feel him tense beneath me, his teeth digging into my neck in a rough, bruising bite.

“Mine,” he grumbles into my neck. I’m not even sure if he’s aware he’s said it. And I really shouldn’t like how horny that makes me feel.

He kisses my neck, right over the bite he just branded me with.

Because that’s what he just did.

He marked me as his and then said mine .

We have a lot to unpack when we’re sober.

I straighten my skirt and slide off Hunter’s lap so he can… adjust . And just like that, we’re shifting back into place before anyone at the table even notices.

Maybe. I’m honestly not sure I’d care if they did.

That’s a strange thought. That I wouldn’t care what people think. Huh.

“Well, looky what we got here, y’all,” Robbie coos as he shoves his way into the bench seating across from us, followed by Lemon and Katie Simmons, who decides to scoot in on this side next to Hunter instead of beside Lemon. “Who here is at all surprised the one and only Devyn Lynn Campell, Mrs. American Rodeo Queen and Southern Belle of my TV and yours, wasn’t home a single day and she’s already up in Isaac’s lap?”

Robbie takes a swig of his beer and gulps loudly, belching and wiping his face on his sleeve. It’s gross, yeah, but it’s Robbie , I think, rolling my eyes and not caring what he says, like old times.

“I’m not surprised.” he continues, “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” He gives me an exaggerated wink and stands at his seat to gyrate into the air before he’s swatted back down by Lemon.

“He’s like…really drunk,” she says, almost apologetically. It crosses my mind that her apologizing for Robbie’s behavior is weird. She’s like the mother hen here. Everyone kind of follows Lemon’s orders. And I’m still not jealous of her. I smile, thinking about how she saved me from Garrison. Even before Hunter got there, she wouldn’t have let me leave with him. She seems to be keeping everyone in line tonight.

I’m starting to see what Shana sees in her. She’s good people.

“Shut up, you big ol’ goose!” And the way she draws out goose—no, the way Robbie’s eyes widen when she says it, like he’s terrified she’ll spill some tea on him, is bizarre. It’s enough to shut him up and sit him down, though, which is good. I really don’t want anyone making a big deal out of Hunter and me because I don’t want Hunter and me making a big deal out of Hunter and me.

I don’t even know if there is a Hunter and me.

See? I knew it would be complicated coming back home. Still, I feel happier than I have in a while.

And that means something. I’m not jealous here either.

That means something, too.

Well, I thought I wasn’t jealous, that is. But maybe that only extends to Lemon. My gaze darts down the table, and I feel my nails curling into the bench the closer Katie gets to Hunter. She and Robbie are explaining this smart phone bar game, which is basically just a fancy version of Truth or Dare. And the way she puts her hand on Hunter’s arm and laughs when he makes a joke about the background photo on her phone…Nope, still a jealous bitch.

“Excuse me, Katie, right?” I blink at her and smile so brightly, you’d think we were on camera.

She looks at me, wide-eyed and annoyed. She should be. I’ve known her since we were five.

“Yeah, obviously.” She rolls her eyes and waits for me to continue.

I point to Hunter and then back to myself. “He’s got plans tonight.”

She looks mortified. Good.

It feels less than great being a jealous bitch again. But it feels better making sure she knows his plans do not include her in any way, shape, or department store booties form.

Okay, that was harsh, even for my thoughts.

“I mean, your booties are cute,” I say quickly, grasping for anything at all to fill the silence and distract everyone from the fact that I think I just claimed Hunter in front of half the town.

But he’s not distracted, and the look in his eyes tells me he is more than pleased with my public display of…ownership over him. A thrill of excitement shoots down to my core with that thought, but I have to shake myself out of this orgasm-induced stupor.

What on earth is wrong with you, Devyn? What happened to taking it slow? Casually?

I scold myself internally. Now the whole table has all eyes on us.

“Holy shit!” Robbie says, his eyes as wide as everyone else at the table. Except Lemon. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh, shoving her straw in her mouth and sucking like her life depends on it.

“Ya’ll are still into each other.” He points back and forth between Hunter and me, and even though I should continue to deny it and lean away, I don’t.

No, I don’t lean away at all .

I taste him instead. He’s kissing me. Or I’m kissing him.

And all of a sudden, I’m in his lap for the second time in a ten-minute period.

He’s hard. Because of me.

I turn, straddling him and winding my arms around his neck as he sifts his fingers through my hair and fists the blonde strands, holding me in place, my head tugged back almost painfully while his tongue lashes out at my mouth, tasting my lips, teasing my tongue, my—

“Ehemmm,” Robbie grinds out, breaking our kiss, and the silence I didn’t realize we caused. Several sets of eyes stare, fingers point, lips whisper in ears beside them. And they’re all looking at us. Lemon says something to Jeremy, and I see him nod, biting his lip to keep from smiling. I’m suddenly very aware of the position I’ve put myself in, and I frantically search around for cameras before I feel a squeeze and a light kiss on the back of my neck.

“It’s okay. You’re not in the city.”

Miss American Rodeo, whether she be reigning queen, future queen, or past, like me, isn’t usually supposed to be seen straddling cowboys in seedy bars and sucking their face off. Usually . And I may have been a hot topic for the tabloids when I was in my early twenties. Getting caught in places I shouldn’t have been with people I shouldn’t caused a lot of drama in my life. People always seem to think they know what they don’t.

I feel relieved when Hunter reminds me it’s not like that here. Half the people in this town are still living in the 90s. Most people around here don’t even have smart phones, and the only paper they get is the Farmer’s Almanac and the Pine Forest Courier , run by the same man who owns all the vending machines in the strip mall.

Yes, you heard that right. The one and only strip mall .

“It’s easy to forget Pine Forest doesn’t have reporters crawling all over the place when you’ve been away as long as I have.”

Hunter squeezes my shoulder, and I offer him a smile. Knowing he’s got my back even when he doesn’t really have to makes me feel safe.

Robbie enters our names into the app, and we all wait as it tells us the rules. It’s weird being in a time of AI and robots. I remember seeing movies about them as a kid and thinking how insane that culture would be, but here we are, letting a telephone tell us how to play a game older than time.

“Do we really need this thing to explain Truth or Dare?” I complain when the rules seem to drone on forever from his speaker.

Everyone laughs, even Katie, to my surprise. I thought she’d give me the side-eye all night after my display of dominance, which is really what it was, if I’m being honest with myself. I felt like a lioness in that moment, ready to tear her head off with one quick bite if she got any closer to Hunter.

And that, my dear self, needs to be examined by Sober Devyn tomorrow.

“She’s right,” Robbie admits, squinting as he reads through the first few instructions in his head. He waves a hand through the air. “The rules are the same. Let’s just play.”

He eyes the table for a moment and then lands his gaze on Katie. Robbie was always notorious for being an ass at games like this, doing whatever he could to make us all uncomfortable.

“Katie May Simmons, I dare you to kiss Hunter.”

Katie’s lips part on a gasp, and her eyes dart to the side, but not to Hunter.

Nope, to my absolute amusement, she looks at me.

Good girl. I wink at her. Hunter sees this and nudges me, but I don’t care. I snake my hand over his jeans and cup his junk beneath the table as he groans a kiss into my neck.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, shifting in her seat. Robbie sighs but concedes after seeing her hesitation. Or maybe he senses the lioness too.

“Never mind,” he says. “How ‘bout Truth? Do you have a thing for Hunter?”

My eyes widen, and I twist my head to face her, but I’m just a split second too late to see her immediate reaction. And I have a feeling the one she’s got in place right now is most definitely a mask.

“No,” she says firmly.

Hmm.

I narrow my eyes at her, but Hunter’s voice in my mind is almost as close as his fingers on my hips.

Breathe, Ponygirl.

It eases my immediate jealousy. What is wrong with me? Why am I being like this?

“Your turn, Katie.” I keep my forced smile firmly in place. Despite my constant hiccups with bitchery, I realize I can’t stop being a bitch if I keep being a bitch. It’s difficult.

She nods, seeming to accept my neutrality. “Okay.” She fiddles with her tennis bracelet. “Devyn…” She hesitates, breathing more heavily now. But why?

I’ve seen this look on a dozen women before, and all of them were nervous.

But they were nervous about me. Pageant girls going up against the best around, or interns wanting a big shot at the station, knees knocking together as they’d walk to my dressing room and work up the courage just to tell me I’m their idol.

But why is Katie nervous? I’m certainly not her idol. Or maybe…just maybe, it’s not nerves. It’s courage. And just like that, she morphs into something different. Her chin tilts up, her back straightens, and she widens her smile.

Oh, Katie is not passing the vibe check.

“I dare you to sleep with Hunter,” she says, folding her arms across her chest in a triumphant and, I’ll hand it to her, pretty badass move. If I didn’t hate her right now, I might want to be her friend.

“Nice try. But you can’t dare someone to have sex.”

“No, not sex. I dare you to spend the night with him. One night. No sex. That’s the dare. Because there’s one more rule, you can’t have any sexual intercourse even if you want to. I’ll put fifty bucks on it.” She smirks and turns her attention to Robbie. “I doubt they last an hour.”

“What?” Lemon and I say in unison. And I have to admit it feels good that the girl’s got my back. I’m not used to that. I’m used to being the one other girls hate. Katie? I’m not sure yet.

“This is a horrible idea, Devyn. We should call Shana and—”

“No.”

Hunter’s eyes widen in my direction. Most everyone at the table has something to say about it. It’s wrong. It’s stupid. We wouldn’t last a day. We would kill each other. Someone, I think Robbie, says he wants it on film.

Ew.

Then again, it’s kinda hot to think about filming myself with Hunter. Laying his TikTok moves down on me, above me, while the world scrolls by and sees he’s mine and I’m his.

Stop. Nope. Lemon’s right. Bad idea.

“Look,” I say, coming to my senses, “on second thought, maybe Lem is right…”

“Whoa, there,” Hunter interjects. “Don’t I get any say in this?”

“Hear ye, hear ye!” Robbie slams down his beer-bottle-made-gavel, suddenly the drunken grand master of bets and challenges. “What’s your input, Isaac?”

Hunter drags his eyes across my body almost as slowly as his tongue across his lips, scorching me internally as he holds my gaze.

“I say we’re on. But I want something out of it.” He strums his fingers together. “I want more than a night with you. Let’s make it a month.”

I gasp, and the rest of the table does too. But Lemon smiles.

“And,” she adds in singsong tune, “whoever caves and initiates sex first forfeits the charity competition for Classy Country and lets the other one take the job.”

At first, I’m flabbergasted . I shoot Lemon a death glare. How could she? I thought we were friends now…truce and all. Why would she do that to me?

But I hear psst from across the table, and she winks at me . Not at Hunter. And it’s then I realize she’s an actual genius. I am not going to cave.

But I’ll do everything in my power to tease the hell out of Hunter so he does.

Everyone says I always do things impulsively, but I’ve thought it over, in the point-three seconds I’ve had since realizing it, and I’ve decided this is a win-win for me.

I tease him, he caves before I do, and I get my dream job. It’s as simple as that.

In the back of my head, Sober-Devyn shouts things about guarding our heart and feelings and risks, but I take a big swig of my beer and drown that Debbie Downer right the fuck out.

“No problem. I’m in,” I tell the group before twisting to face a smirking Hunter beside me.

“Are you sure about this, babygirl?” His fingers brush my bangs away from my eyes, and I shiver. He leans in and kisses my ear, the sensations that ripple across my body each a separate promise of their own that he won’t make this easy on me, either. “I know how much you want that job. I’d hate for you to fail because you couldn’t behave.”

He whispers that last part directly in my ear, and the stupidly sexy asshole even lets his teeth linger, nibbling for far too long to be considered appropriate for a group setting, and leaving behind a hot, wet breath that I want to preserve against my skin so I can feel him there.

When I’m alone.

Thinking about his words…

“ Such a filthy little princess .”

Can I really control myself around him?

But yeah. I know I can. And I love a good smack talk before a competition, so I take it up a notch, making sure to wiggle my ass down over his crotch very, extremely, undoubtedly purposefully.

“Two can tease, Isaac.” I lean my head into the crook of his neck, arching my back as my lips brush his skin, pleased with myself when I see his throat constrict. On and off, I wonder if I can, very well, control myself around him for a month.

In his house. In his bed.

“You daydreaming again?” Hunter moves my legs to the side so he can hold me and look at me at the same time. My eyes bore into his, searching for answers I could just ask him to reveal to me with words, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to ask the questions that would spark them. Even after all these years.

The way our breath mixes, until I’m not sure whose air I’m breathing anymore, takes hold of me, and then I’m kissing him again. Not carefully this time, but wildly. My teeth clank against his, hands roaming over his shoulders, squeezing his biceps and loving how tight they feel when he flexes beneath my hands, craving more when he grabs my throat and pulls me deeper into the kiss, like he’s demanding he have total control of every part of it, my mouth becoming thoroughly fucked by his lashing tongue.

“Shiiiiiit. I ain’t even got goats that horny, y’all,” Robbie observes, slamming his beer mug down on the table and breaking me out of my love spell. “Hundred bucks says they don’t just do the deed. These two’re fixin’ to get hitched by the enda this.”

“Deal,” I hear Lemon shout, smacking her hand on the table. And I’m not sure if I’m happy or upset she doesn’t think we’ll get married. I frown, thinking that over. Does she not have faith in our relationship?

But what the fuck am I thinking? We don’t have a relationship. I don’t want a relationship with Hunter.

We break away from the kiss, both of us noticing we’re halfway to losing the challenge and we haven’t even gotten to his house yet. And, well, it’s kind of true.

“I’m not worried,” I lie, twisting around and facing the table again. “I know I can do it, even if I were married to him. I could resist going all the way with him. Hunter, on the other hand, wouldn’t last a single night married to me without begging for it.”

“Pro’lly wouldn’t be able to put up with her bullshit,” Robbie chimes in, and he’s quickly smacked in the head by Lemon. “Ow.”

“What do you mean, I couldn’t stay married to you?” Hunter asks. “That’d be just about the easiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done.” His deep blue eyes roam my body possessively, and the way he makes my nipples hard with the promise in his stare is not just dangerous, it’s addictive.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he tells me. Straight, honest, and outright.

My breath leaves my lungs with that admission; at how freely and publicly he offers it. Does he mean that?

“Even if there were no sex involved?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

“You’d want me for…just me?” I grind my teeth, slipping my finger beneath my hair tie and stretching it tightly, forcing the words from my lips. Words I speak to him alone, “Even though you know I’ll never have—”

He nods, cutting me off, and my breath hitches again.

“Why?”

“I’ve always wanted you for you, Dev. No matter what.”

I stall. Tears well in my eyes. And even though the sting is real, I will not… I will not cry. I’m not ready to let him see what this means to me. It’s the one wall I can’t lower so freely.

“Do you mean that, or are you just tipsy?” I ask, searching his blue eyes and needing desperately for the former to be so. Wanting to believe the things I’ve feared for so long might not be true. That I’m not too broken. That maybe there is a future for Hunter Isaac and me, despite the scars that will forever outline our love.

Even though I’ll never be a whole me.

And I don’t care that the whole table is watching us right now. This is monumental.

I need to know.

“Devyn Lynn Campbell,” he says, his blue eyes pinning me in place, brimming with an unyielding truth I can’t ignore, “I swear to all the stars in the sky and the mountains that kiss their light that I would marry you for a thousand reasons, and not one of them would be to change you.”

“I dare you,” I breathe.