Chapter Ten
Dylan
My words hang in the air, and for a second, I worry that I’ve made a huge mistake. Hunter stares at me with a wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights expression that would have been funny under different circumstances. Maybe he’d been making a joke, but if that’s the case, I don’t get the punchline.
“Are you serious?” he asks.
“Are you? Are you seeing anyone?” He’d been engaged the last time I tried to see him. That had been after he’d been shot, but I never worked up the courage to actually visit his room, not after I saw his fiancée in the hospital waiting room.
She’d been gorgeous and worried sick, and the last thing I wanted was to cause trouble for either of them. Not with everything they both had to be going through. So I’d slipped away, pretending I’d never been there. He’d moved on and built a life, and that was all I’d ever wanted for him.
Now, though, Hunter didn’t wear a ring, and he’d never mentioned a wife or fiancée. Had he never married her, then? Something that felt too much like hope expands warmly in my chest.
Hunter shakes his head. “No. You?”
He could be lying, but I didn’t think so. He didn’t lie back when I’d been in love with him all those years ago. That honest integrity had been one of the reasons I’d fallen in love with him. I doubted he’d have changed all that much.
“I’m not seeing anyone.” A smile tugs at my mouth. Shit, if he only knew. Work kept me busy, and it had been years since my last relationship. It had even been a while since my last hookup.
“Good,” Hunter says, then he’s closing the distance between us, climbing onto the bed.
He kneels over me, straddling my hips, his broad shoulders and chest hovering over mine.
He plants his hands on either side of my head, arms caging me.
My breath lodges in my chest. My dick twitches. Holy fuck, this was happening.
“You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this,” he whispers, warm breath tickling my cheek and ear.
My elbows give out, and I sink back against the mattress.
Given the low-key need pulsing inside like an ache whenever he was close, I might have some idea.
When he’d kissed me earlier, it took everything I had not to drop to my knees right there in front of The Coldwater General Store.
Hunter’s mouth captures mine, hungry and demanding, driving any sense of coherent thought out of my head. I meet his kiss with a relentless hunger of my own. There is nothing sweet or tentative about this kiss. We’re like two starving men striving to devour each other.
I wrap my arms around Hunter, and pull him closer, until his chest is flush with mine and his weight pins me to the mattress.
I’m half wild with need, but we keep kissing all tongues and teeth.
His thigh slots between my legs, and I can’t help but grind my aching cock against him, desperate for the friction.
He leans back and groans, and the sound prickles over my skin like wildfire, leaving me hot and shivery at once.
I grin and grind myself against him, shifting so my hip grazes his cock straining against his jeans.
This all feels amazing, but I want more.
I want all of him, stretching me, filling me, fucking me until every part of me is eclipsed by him.
“Too many clothes,” I whisper against his lips before I tug at his bottom lip with my teeth.
“You might be right.” He pushes off me and kneels back on the bed. Already, I miss the heat from his body, his weight pressing my back against the mattress. I start to protest, but he pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his rock-hard chest, and the words die on my lips.
Hunter had always had a good body. He was an athlete, but the years between then and now have sculpted his frame, leaving his muscled chest and stomach harder and more defined, with a scatter of short brown hair across his pecs, trailing from his belly button and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans.
A dizzying sense of déjà vu sweeps through me, and I can’t believe any of this is real.
Walking away from Hunter Cade was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
I didn’t think I would ever speak to him again, let alone have him in my bed again.
I’m playing a dangerous game. In just a few days of knowing him, I remember all the reasons I’d fallen for him in the first place.
It would be so easy to fall for him again.
He would walk away at the end of all this and leave me behind, and I would have to get over him all over again.
Panic swells in my throat, but I swallow it down. It’s just sex, I tell myself, but I don’t believe myself. Still, I want Hunter too much to do the right thing, the smart thing.
He drags his jeans and underwear over his hips and down his legs. His thick cock springs free, standing firm against the trimmed brown hair, and I nearly drop to my knees and beg, desperate to feel the weight of him against my tongue.
Instead, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor, then shimmy out of my pajamas before tossing them aside, too. I look up at Hunter. His dark eyes travel hungrily down my body, and I realize he wants me as badly as I want him.
“Hunter,” I murmur, my voice so low and raspy, I barely recognize it.
He climbs back onto the bed, his hard, hot frame settling over me again, and then his mouth captures mine in another brain-scrambling kiss. His cock drags against mine, hot and velvet-smooth, and my toes curl into the quilt.
He traces nibbling kisses over my jaw and down my throat. “God, you feel so good.”
The low rumble of his words against my neck reverberates through my bones. He rolls us onto our sides, grips my ass with one big hand, his finger grazing my hole. Every part of me feels tight and ready to shatter.
“Hunter, please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for.
“Do you have anything?” he says, and for a moment, I blink, confused, uncertain what he’s asking.
Then my brain finally catches up. He’s asking if I have condoms or lube.
I don’t, of course. It didn’t occur to me that there was even the slightest chance we’d have sex on this trip, or ever again, for that matter.
“Shit.”
“Me neither,” he says. “Guess we’ll have to make do.”
Before his words register, his grip on my ass tightens, and he drags me closer. A low groan tears free from my throat, and my hips thrust forward almost on their own volition. My cock drags against his thick length, earning me a shuddery gasp from Hunter before his hand closes around us both.
He starts to stroke us, and I grip his shoulders, tucking my head into the crook of his neck. I suck and nibble the skin at his throat, fucking into his fist and rubbing against his cock. I can feel my balls tightening, and I’m about to come far too fast.
“I’m close.” The needy whimper of my voice makes my face hot.
“Me too.” His free hand tangles in my hair, and my scalp burns in the best way possible, while his grip on us tightens and his pace turns wild.
I come first. Not shocking. I’ve been on a hair trigger since we started. Hunter doesn’t stop. His cock keeps sliding against me, messy and slick, and it doesn’t take him long to spill against my stomach.
***
When I wake up, I’m alone in bed. I reach my hand out, but Hunter’s side is cold. He’s been up for a while.
Shit. Did he regret it? Was he somewhere having an existential crisis because he’d fallen into bed with me? I sincerely hoped not.
We fell asleep wrapped up together, so waking up alone hits harder than I expect.
Last night, after we both rolled onto our backs to catch our breath, Hunter got up and went into the bathroom.
I could hear the water running, then he returned to our bed with a warm washcloth and wiped the mess off my stomach and dick.
I’d barely moved. Exhaustion had fallen over me like a heavy blanket; my limbs soft and warm like melted wax; I couldn’t work up the energy to open my eyes.
Then Hunter slipped back into the bed, pulling me back against his chest. My last coherent thought before drifting to sleep was the feel of his lips pressed to my shoulder.
What changed between then and now? Probably everything.
I open my eyes and sit up to find Hunter behind the delicate, ornate writing desk, typing away on his laptop. His big frame looks ridiculous on the tiny chair pulled up to the equally tiny desk. The chair looks as if it could collapse under his weight at any minute.
He turns and looks over at me, as if sensing my stare, or, and more likely, hearing the blankets moving when I sat up. “You’re awake. I picked up coffee.”
There’s a large paper cup on the dresser. “Thank god. You’re the best.”
I start to push back the blankets, but stop, remembering I’m naked. My face heats, which is stupid. Considering just hours ago, we’d been naked in each other’s arms while Hunter had jerked us both off, any modesty felt misplaced. Still, something about him watching me gets under my skin.
I push back the covers and get up. I find my pajama pants on the floor and pull them on. Hunter’s gaze follows me, warm enough to make my skin prickle. I don’t hate it.
He’s quiet while he watches me cross the room and pick up the coffee. I’m the first one to break the awkward tension filling the room. “When I woke up, and you weren’t in the bed, I thought you might be freaking out about last night.”
His brows lift. “Freaking out?”
“Regretting last night,” I clarify and take a swig from the cup. The coffee is not as good as what I sell in my café, but it’s a hell of a lot better than nothing.
“I don’t regret it.”
I lower my hand holding the cup, and his gaze holds mine. “I don’t regret it either.”
I grin, and he grins back. “Good.”
I’m not sure what’s happening between us, and while I’m not delusional enough to believe that we could ever go back to what we had, I’m glad that whatever this is, isn’t done yet. I take another long swallow from the cup before setting it down on the dresser.
“I should have a shower,” I say. Despite Hunter’s best efforts to clean me up before we fell asleep, I still feel grimy.
He nods to his laptop, open on the desk. “I’m just getting some work done. Updating my notes from yesterday.”
“Sure,” I say. “When I’m done, we can figure out our plan for today. By the way, you look ridiculous sitting at that desk. Looks like you’re sitting at a kid’s desk.”
Hunter chuckles, and the low rumble warms my chest. “I know. I feel ridiculous.”
Grinning, I make my way to the ensuite, shower, and dress for the day.
After brushing my teeth, I leave the bathroom and find Hunter on his phone.
He’s asking for background reports about Matthew, and I assume he’s speaking to someone he works with.
When he notices me, he covers the microphone on his phone and whispers, “There’s breakfast in the dining room.
When I’m done, I’ll meet you. I won’t be long. ”
I’ve been dismissed, which annoys me a little, but my stomach is also grumbling. I am hungry. Besides, Hunter doesn’t really need me around while he’s calling his office. This is his work, after all, even if I’m his client.
I’m still trying to push down my irritation when I wander into the empty dining room. Nancy is behind me and steering me toward a table nearest the bay window.
Shifting from last night’s heat to small talk with my innkeeper is whiplash.
The chandelier casts a soft yellow light, but the dark wallpaper and gloomy weather outside still make the room feel heavy.
Three small tables sit scattered around with mismatched chairs, all adding to the sense of claustrophobic gloom.
I have to fight the urge to pull back the curtains and let in whatever light the cloudy sky can offer.
Once I’m seated, she disappears into the kitchen before returning with a cup of coffee and cream and sugar.
“Today’s breakfast,” she explains, “is a choice between eggs and sausage or French toast.”
I order the French toast for myself and eggs for Hunter. He’s always preferred savory over sweet. I just hope he’ll be done on the phone before his food comes out.
She returns to the kitchen, where I assume Jim is cooking, but arrives back at my table a moment later with a small glass of orange juice for both Hunter and me. She sets them down next to each of our plates, then asks, “How was your first night?”
For a split second, memories of Hunter’s hands and mouth all over me clutter my head, and my face warms.
“Great,” I tell her. “I slept great.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“This is a beautiful building,” I tell her when she makes no move to leave my table, and I have to fill the awkward silence. “You must love living here.”
She offers a noncommittal shrug. “It’s lovely,” she agrees, but there’s little enthusiasm in her voice. “I miss my children when I’m here.”
“You have children?”
She nods. “A boy and a girl. Eight and ten.” The house looks like the kind of place where kids would be running around.
“They must be well-behaved,” I tell her. “I haven’t seen or heard them.”
“They don’t live here,” Nancy says. “Jim thought it was better if they lived with my parents in town, closer to their school. This way, they don’t disturb the guests.”
Her mouth is drawn into a tight line, and her high-arched brows draw together. She makes no effort to hide her resentment.
“It must be difficult for you,” I tell her.
“It is,” she admits. “But sometimes you make sacrifices for the people you love.”
The conversation has turned tense and far more personal than I like, so I opt for a change of subject while mentally willing Hunter to hurry up and get down here.
“We tried to speak to Lyle yesterday,” I say. “But we didn’t have any luck tracking him down.”
“You’ll have a better chance of finding him at The Four Corners Bar,” she says, lips pursing with distaste.
“We’ll check it out. Thanks.”
She reaches out, grasping my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I really do hope you find your cousin safe.”
But something in her tone tells me she doesn’t believe we will.