Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Hunter on missing time and doing all the wrong things
I wallowed in a thick soup of exhaustion, arriving at wakefulness with a warm body wrapped around me. It was a familiar feeling and not unwelcome.
An orange tabby blinked in my face, lit only by ambient light from an unknown source. Stirring, I stretched and basically relished in the warmth, my mind buzzing with images. Thinking caused my brain to hurt. A literal dull ache at my temples. I let the thoughts go and floated.
The floating didn’t last long. I pieced together the past few days.
Maybe we’d drunk too many beers on the camping trip.
I couldn’t remember the drive home. But the evening before would be seared into my memory.
Regge’s confessions, his fears, the two of us in the open meadow and snuggling under the stars.
My hands on his taut muscular body. The delicious sound he made when he came.
A hand snaked over my waist, and I was pulled closer.
Regge’s fingers flexed at my belly. I sifted through memories like a broken colander, everything slipping through.
Words filtered across my mindscape. Sorry.
Coward. Julian? The hotel? I recalled seeing Abraham, but… Oh, yeah, I needed to return the tent.
Archimedes pushed a fat paw onto my chin and mewled with hungry impatience. “Good morning, Archie. Are you looking for food?”
“Shh.” Regge’s breath was hot against my neck.
“Reg? We gotta get to the hotel. We should get up.”
Another mumble. Shifting to face him, I gazed at him.
He looked both younger and older this way.
And gorgeous, sleep-addled and relaxed. Handsome and a little roguish during waking hours, his looks rivaled angels when he slept.
I couldn’t resist kissing his nose, remembering our hot-mouthed kisses under the moon.
Regge’s eyes opened. I stared. “God, you are so hot. You know that?” I had to say it. No one could look this good and not be told.
He blinked. “Hunter? You’re awake.” He pushed back, peering at me with such intensity, I had to look away. “You’re you? You’re awake!”
My mouth quirked. “Yes. Amazing, aren’t I?”
That hot mouth swooped in with kisses, pulling away only to plant more kisses over my face. “You are. Amazing. So amazing. God. I’m so… happy.”
Our lips met, parting to allow a taste. The kiss deepened into the unexpected. I went with it, relaxing back onto the bed, letting Regge make me feel good. And I did. I felt so good. That pleasant, safe, happiness soon evolved into desire. A burning need to have him. Make him mine.
I pushed back to see Regge’s eyes, to make sure he was real. “Whoa. Hey, wow.” I blinked, focusing on the full kiss-plundered lips in front of me. “What are we doing? Don’t get me wrong, I kinda love it, but… don’t we need to get to the hotel?”
“What?” Regge frowned. Shaking his head, he focused on my jaw, his lips searing my skin until he found a pulse point. “No,” he said between kisses. “We’re all good. The hotel’s fine.”
“But Nigel. We’re still helping him, yeah?”
“Mmm.” Regge’s hands slid under my boxers, gripping. “Take these off,” he murmured, the command turning my insides out. Regge was never shy, but he wasn’t overly demonstrative when it came to affection. But seeing this needy, dominant side of him sent a shiver through me. I did as he asked.
Regge stripped out of his own clothing. Lying back down, he arranged us to lie on our sides, facing each other.
His hand slipped between us. The dark lashes fell, his lips parting into a gasp as he found me.
I leaned in with a groan as Regge stroked with just the perfect grip.
I could still be dreaming. This was too much.
He leaned into my neck. “Gods but I want you so badly. I want your hands on me, your mouth.” He pushed me onto my back, slotting himself between my legs. The weight of him was enticing.
The words cascaded over me like a waterfall, pounding into my brain.
He wants me. Me. My body craved his touch, but my mind had other ideas.
What if we did this and he hated it? Or he freaked out?
Or it reminded him of Charlie? The lost lover.
I could botch the whole thing up and we couldn’t even be friends again.
“Regge.” I pressed him away from me, lifting my hands from his skin and letting them fall to the side of my head. “What is this?” The question hung in the air between us.
He leaned back, looking at me. “You don’t want to?”
“I absolutely do want to, but… is this just a friends with benefits thing? I mean that’s all good, if it is, but…” No. That wouldn’t be good at all. I knew it as soon as I said the words. I would hate that. But it was better than losing him altogether.
“Yeah, sure.” Full lips ghosted across my cheeks before heading to my throat.
My heart thumped in time with every swipe of Regge’s tongue.
A tongue that moved south along my collarbone, my breastbone.
Lips stopping at nipples to tease, before traveling south.
A hot mouth at my belly button and then lower still.
His mouth was everywhere, hot and insistent. Finally his lips teased and tortured, his tongue like fire. I whimpered. Chuckling, Regge took me in fully. My hand fell naturally onto his hair, sifting through the soft strands.
With his moan vibrating around me, I lost all thought. There was nothing to do but feel. The swoop of tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth, and I had to grip the sheets to keep still. I didn’t want to freak him out.
Ever conscious of his confession of his past, I didn’t want this to be anything like that. But it was only a few minutes before I felt the rush of tension, the onslaught of euphoria. I couldn’t help but clutch at Regge’s hair before a quick tap on his shoulder as a warning.
But he simply sucked me in deeper, his throat closing around my orgasm. I shouted…something. I’m sure of it. My body melted into his like honey off a hot spoon. Suddenly liquid and golden, every sensation searing into memory, an imprint on my psyche. This was so right. Exactly how it should be.
“Regge. Regge,” I said, not really knowing why, but the name sounded so promising on my lips. I pulled him up and moved to the side, splaying him out on the bed so I had access to all of him.
I was determined to make it good, to make Regge feel as good as I did. Maybe then, this would be a thing. Our thing. Something that stays. Something that lasts.
His breathing was ragged and chipped at every curve and crevice I found. I wanted to find them all. Teasing and swiping, my tongue and fingers working until he begged. “Come on, come on, come the fuck on.”
I smiled into his belly, tracing the fine blond hairs of his happy trail. “Say please.”
“Please.” The word croaked out ragged and pliant. “Please. I need your mouth.”
I complied. It was glorious. I didn’t know what Regge liked in bed, but I knew what I liked, so I took a guess. I was right.
He groaned and begged some more until I relented, my mouth sinking down, enveloping him. I’d dreamed of this, of having Regge moan with pleasure under me.
The whole act was sloppy and noisy. I didn’t care. I was lost in the scent, the feel of him in my hands, on my tongue. My mouth was made for this. I couldn’t seem to get enough, so I went for it.
It was scant minutes before Regge thrashed under me, before a raw explosion and the blissful exhale of a groan. Just like I remembered. This time the sound was combined with my name.
After a minute of catching our breath, I moved up to the head of the bed and collapsed beside him, suddenly exhausted. Regge pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, nuzzling into my neck. I thought I heard the word love. But I wasn’t sure. The heaviness of sated sleep overcame me.
The next time I woke, the room was lighter, the early sunlight peeping through half-closed blinds. Once again, my mind was fuzzy, though the headache had eased. Had I slept all day? All night? I sat up, feeling along the bed for Regge. The sheets were warm but empty.
“Reg?” I fumbled out of bed, feeling like my legs were brand-new and unused to walking. Did he leave without me? “Reg?”
A door opened to let a crack of light spread into the room.
“You’re awake.” He walked from the bathroom to the kitchen, clicking on the stove light. He was shirtless, a pair of boxer shorts low on his hips. My boxers.
I smiled. “Oh, I thought you’d left without me.”
He chuckled. “Where would I go?”
“Erm. The hotel. Egads, we must be really late. The necromancer will be…”
His skin shone with golden shadows under the light. “No. Hunter, it’s okay. We don’t need to go to the hotel. It’s done. Nigel…”
Moving back to me, he reached out to run a hand over my hair. His eyes were full of concern.
“You should rest some more. Or… are you hungry? I’m going to make food.” He turned back toward the kitchen. He was acting weird. Or I was acting weird. Yeah. It could be me. That tracked.
I forced myself to move, shuffling my naked self into the bathroom. Why was I so groggy? My body felt drained. Relaxed, good, but drained. Glancing in the mirror, I took in my bed hair, my unshaven cheeks. Two or three-days’ growth of my perpetually patchy beard.
I remembered shaving yesterday. At least, I thought so. I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, hoping the water would help clear the foggy memory.
Emerging with a towel around my waist, I found Regge staring into a frying pan of potatoes and ham. The smell activated my appetite. When did I last eat something?
The sight of Regge’s bare back, his ass in my smiley face boxers, did things to me. “Smells awesome,” I said, walking up and circling an arm around his waist.
His shoulders stiffened, his hand gripping the spatula.
“What’s wrong?” I loosened my hold. He slid away.
“Nothing.” He carefully turned the already turned potatoes. “Things are fine. Do you want eggs? I think I have some.” He nodded toward the fridge.
I stepped away, blocking the fridge. I squinted at him, as though I could see the turmoil in his head. “I want you to talk to me.”
“I am talking to you.”
“Regge, tell me what’s in your head right now? Last night was—” I wanted to say amazing, beautiful, a thousand other adjectives. I swallowed them in lieu of answers, gentling my tone. “Last night you were begging for my touch and now you can’t stand to be near me? What the hell?”
I edged into his space, studying him. Regge could lie his way into heaven with the devil in his pocket, but I knew him.
I knew when he was happy, excited, angry, even slightly irritated.
When he’d slip into that sad melancholy about his past and the loss of Charlie.
He hid it well. But I’d made it a hobby to decipher his expressions, his moods.
Or at least I thought I knew him. But now his soft, open expression from earlier had closed.
“Sorry. I think I got carried away. Last night, I mean.” He looked away.
Ice crackled along my spine. This wasn’t happening. Things had been awesome not five minutes ago. “Carried away?” I backed up several steps until my legs hit the edge of the folded-out futon. “What do you mean? Did you not want to…” I couldn’t say it.
His gaze wouldn’t land. Not anywhere in my vicinity anyway. “You said we were just friends with benefits. Don’t make this more.”
I remembered. “I asked. I asked if that’s what this was. You said yes.” Had I said the wrong thing? Misspoke? Or simply screwed up again?
“I was agreeing with you.” Words clipped sharp enough to cut. “That’s what you wanted.”
Damn, I had messed up again. I opened my mouth to fix it. To say all the things I should have said last night. But the jade of Regge’s eyes stopped me, shredding whatever words I had.
He shut down. He’d done it before. After our fight at Reckless Abandon. A cold front harsh enough to freeze time. As though I was just a hookup who’d overstayed my welcome.
“How the fuck do you know what I want?” The words spilled from me, hot and bleeding. I knew I sounded desperate, but damn it, I was. “Have you asked?” I snapped at him. “What I want? No. So here’s a clue. I want you. In whatever way I can get you.”
I’d said it before. Months ago. Regge had said he wasn’t ready for anything like a relationship. That he was still adjusting. Maybe he still was. How would I know? We hadn’t talked about this in a while. Not ever, really.
Tears formed behind my eyes. I had to get out of here. I scanned the room, found my jeans, and pulled them on quickly, not bothering with underwear. Regge could keep them. A black T-shirt was rumpled on the floor. I yanked it over my head inside out.
Regge stared from the kitchen, spatula in the air, potatoes burning in the skillet. I waited, hoping he’d stop me. Explain himself. But he said nothing.
I heard myself exhale a long, miserable sigh. It didn’t feel like me. Like I was outside my own body. I couldn’t remember anything except the closeness we’d felt under the stars and the mind-blowing orgasm from only a few hours ago. The rest of it was a blur.
I needed air. Space. I couldn’t stay and look at Regge’s indifference another second.
“If friends is all you want, that’s fine.
” I found my duffel and started shoving whatever clothes I could find into it, cinching the cords with a vicious yank.
“But friends are honest with each other. I know you well enough to know you’re hiding something. ”
“HB.” The nickname was a knife blade of intimacy.
“Hunter.” Bile worked its way through my gut. “Or Bruce, that’s what acquaintances call me.” I shoved my bare feet into sneakers.
Regge wrenched the smoking skillet off the burner and turned to face me. “Hunter, don’t. You should stay.”
“And do what? Play checkers? Video games? Fuck like friends? Tell you what. You start talking and being honest, and I’ll stay.” Our eyes met across the room.
“You should eat.” He turned back to his breakfast.
My breath caught, working to keep my heart intact. I’d thought Regge trusted me—my intentions. I’d done everything I could to win his trust. It wasn’t enough.
“I’ll get something later.” I flipped the latch on the door, praying that he would stop me. He didn’t.