47. CHARLOTTE
47
N othing could’ve prepared me for tonight. For seeing him in Braeden again.
Sliding into the booth, I watch him intently, assessing his face like I want to make sure it’s engraved in my memory, though we all know I couldn’t forget about him even if I wanted to. God fucking knows I’ve tried.
He narrows his eyes on me as he moves closer, our hips touching as we sit in the middle of the booth, and I take a sip of my drink to avoid staring at his lips. I still have the tolerance of a sixteen-year-old who’s allowed a sip of her mother’s wine, but right now, it’s giving me the confident buzz I need to be able to hold my ground against the man who once had my heart.
It’s strange how sitting here with him, after all this time, feels both awkward and comfortable, the same familiarity we used to have from day one still wrapping around us. Jason gives me a quick glance, and I raise my eyebrows at him in question, hoping he can silently tell me what the deal is, but he shrugs his shoulders with a shake of his head, as if he’s just as confused as I am.
I take a deep breath, deciding to just go with whatever happens, determined to face this blast from the past that life threw in my face. Not that I’m complaining.
“So...” Smooth as ever, his arm slips over the back of the booth behind my head. “You look good, Charls. ”
I wish my heart didn’t do a backflip because of the way his nickname for me vibrates over his lips, but goddamnit, it fucking does. “Thanks.”
“How have you been?” His gaze turns serious, as if he’s set to find any lies that might roll off my tongue, not willing to take any bullshit answer I might feed him.
“I’m good.” It’s an honest answer. I really am good.
Do I wish I was still at UNC with Julie? Of course!
Do I sometimes wish life was a little more exciting? Definitely!
But my mom is slowly getting better, hopefully indefinitely this time. My grades are good, so chances are I’ll be graduating next summer, and though my life might not be the most exciting one—I’m satisfied with it.
“Are you?” He studies my face with skepticism.
The corner of my mouth curls in a coy smile as I place my hand on his knee. His gaze glances to my hand, swallowing hard as his gaze locks with mine again, a craving glittering in his eyes. Oops.
“I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m really good, Hunt.”
Finally, the features on his face soften, taking a sip of his drink as his tongue darts out to lick the contents from his lips. He’s still sexy as fuck.
“Are you single?” He’s looking at me like a hungry tiger, and I curse my fucking vagina for purring alive. This is not the time to wake up, girlfriend. Especially not with Hunter Hansen. You can’t dine and dash with him; he’s bound to take everything you own, including body, mind, and soul. I fucking know this.
My lashes lower in a tiny scold. “I said no flirting.”
And of course, this only sparks the asshole to throw me that boyish smirk he’s mastered so fucking well. “This isn’t flirting. This is me showing an interest in an old friend. So, are you?” He inches closer, close enough for me to breathe in his woodsy, citrus scent that instantly sends my mind into overdrive .
“Yes,” I confess. “But you ain’t.”
I give him a knowing look, and he lets out a full belly laugh, his leg rubbing against mine in the movement, sending an annoying jolt of excitement through my stomach.
“Are you keeping tabs on me, babe?”
“Pff,” I huff, taking another sip of my drink. “It’s hard not to when you’re all over the news.”
Something dark flashes in his hazel eyes. “I’ll never get used to that.”
“I can imagine.” We fall silent, staring at each other, the lust slowly simmering down, reminding me of the friendship we used to have. He’s definitely gotten older; the features in his face have matured in the most handsome way while his bulky arms make him even more attractive than he was before. Like the dark prince any girl wants to be protected by. For the outside world, that’s exactly what he is.
A dark prince.
A rebel fighting his way through life.
But I still see him.
I still see the boy looking for a deeper meaning in life, looking to be loved, yet being scared as fuck when it comes his way. Thinking he doesn’t deserve the happily ever after that he so desperately wants. I want to scold him, give him a hard time for hurting me, but I find it impossible to not look past the hard exterior he shows the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who can find the door that leads past it, and I still can’t resist peeking in, even though I should run for the fucking hills if I want to keep my heart intact.
“Are you happy, Hunter?” I cock my head at him, my hand reaching out to his neck, brushing the bruises that have formed from his last fight. I shouldn’t. But I want more than anything to feel him under my palm, ignoring the fact that he’s not mine to touch. He snaps his head my way when our skin connects, his eyes wide as his lips part. The air changes to something palpable, consuming and addictive at the same time. Briefly, his eyes shut, as if he’s soaking up the heat radiating from my fingers, before he opens them with a pain that I’ve never been able to take away, but damn me if I didn’t try. Doing my very best to show him that he matters. That his feelings matter. Because they matter to me.
“I guess,” he says.
“You’re a shit liar, Hunten Hansen.” I pull back my hand, grabbing my glass from the table, swirling my ice cubes. “You always have been.”
“Only with you.” A small chuckle leaves his lips, and I smile. Realizing how much I’ve missed this. Us. How is it possible that after more than a year of silence, he can walk in and it still feels the same? Like our souls click when they shouldn’t fit at all.
“To be honest, Charls?” His hand plays with a strand of my hair, his gaze darkening. “I don’t know if I’m happy. From the outside, it seems like I have it all. I’m one fight removed from that championship belt. I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime. I live in a fucking villa in the Hills. What’s there to complain about? But when you ask me if I remember the last time I was happy, it has nothing to do with anything back in Cali.”
“Okay,” I drawl, a little scared to follow up on his gloomy confession, bringing my glass to my lips again. “When was the last time you were happy?”
“The quarry.”
I choke on my drink, incredulously coughing with wide eyes until my head slowly turns his way. You’ve got to be shitting me.
“The quarry?”
His eyes are serious as hell, but that boyish grin slowly enters the surface of his features, and a shiver runs up and down my spine when his hand strokes the nape of my neck. My eyes move to the back of my head at the scorching movements, and I take a deep breath, trying to keep it together. This is bad.
“It’s true, Charls. When I think of the word happy, that day pops into my head. Our day. ” He moves closer, leaning in, his breath fanning the skin underneath my ear. His hand massages my neck, and I close my eyes while a longing feeling builds between my legs. This is bad . But then why does it feel so good at the same time?
“What part?” I turn my head toward him until our lips are almost touching, and I stare into his mesmerizing eyes. He will always be my forever sin, and right now, I just want to let go over everything I have to do. Everything I’m supposed to do and just give in to this everlasting pull.
“The part where I finally got a taste of your sweet lips.”
“Oh, yeah?” I try to fake indifference, but who am I kidding?
“Yeah,” he croaks out, his tone gravelly and needy, while he softly squeezes my neck in a possessive way. “The soft touch of your plump lips against mine.”
Oh, I’m in so much trouble.
His hand moves to my mouth, and he drags his thumb over my upper lip, then pulls it down, making them part in anticipation. He lifts his snapback to put it back on backwards, and I let out a deep sigh, the move making me feel like I’m back in high school.
“You still remember?” I want to close the distance between us, but part of me is holding myself back, telling me I shouldn’t. That I can’t cross that bridge again tonight, because we’ll be hurting each other by the time morning falls.
“I do. I can never forget.” He nods, his nose skimming mine. “But I need a reminder.”
Before I can respond, his lips crash onto mine, my hand latching out to grab his shirt in a tight grip, and in that exact moment, it hits me. It hits me when his tongue darts out, pressing against mine in an unstoppable hunger. It is as if in that moment a door opens in my head, and he barges in. Making me realize he is meant to be mine.
That he is destined to be mine.
It isn’t the first time we’ve kissed, and it probably won’t be the last time tonight, but for me, there is only one clear vision and it’s labeled Hunter Hansen . Everyone that came before him doesn’t mean shit. Anyone that will come after him won’t mean shit.
He’s my weakness, my everlasting craving, my never-ending addiction. The world around us seems to blur, the two of us spiraling down a rabbit hole I don’t think we will ever really come out of as his hands start to move all over my body. He presses me hard against the booth, and deeper into the leather while his hand snakes under my shirt, our mouths never disconnecting.
“I can’t stop, babe.” He huffs between kisses, making me nod in agreement.
“Me neither.”
“I want you.”
Cupping his face with my hands, I push his face back, looking into his eyes.
“Then take me.”
The corner of his mouth moves up in a cocky grin that makes me swoon every single time before he slides out of the booth, his arm circling my waist as he drags me behind him.
“Wait,” I call out, my hands propped on his chest, a shocking realization popping into my head. “You have a girlfriend.” My eyes widen in horror, thinking about how he’s about to cheat with me while his girl is waiting for him in California.
“Charls,” he says, his stance calm and composed, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, holding out his hand. “We broke up two weeks ago.”
“You did?” I blurt, incredulously.
He lowers his head, grabbing my chin to look me in the eye .
“I don’t lie to you. Ever. You know that.”
I blink in response, thinking back to all the moments he could’ve made life easier by lying but didn’t, knowing deep down inside, he’s a lot of things, but a liar has never been one of them. My mind is telling me this is a terrible choice, that I should call it a night, and wish him well until we meet again. But you know what the thing about the mind is? It’s never as loud as the heart, screaming in your ear with a damn megaphone.
I glance at his hand, then look up at him, our gazes locking as the tension rises more and more between us.
“Are you coming?”
Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I place my hand in his as he lifts me off my feet.
Of course I fucking am.
“Sssh, Hunt! I don’t want a run-in with the Wicked Witch of the East!” I hiss, laughing, when he tries to undo my shirt as we burst through the door.
“It’s past midnight; she’s sleeping. Or passed out from the booze. Either option works, really,” he jokes. I try to run up the stairs, getting out of his grasp and into the safety of his room. But his hand reaches out, slamming me back against his chest as he fists my hair. I keep telling myself this is a bad idea, that if we want to relive the past, this sure as fuck isn’t the part we should focus on. But every moment his hands land on my body, those thoughts get extinguished as easily as blowing out a match.
“I’m not sure I can make it all the way up, babe.” He leans in, leaving a trail of kisses along my neck that lower my lashes.
“If you would just stop touching me for five seconds, we could. ”
“Hmm, can’t. You taste too good.”
I roughly push him off, letting out an excited screech when I look into his indignant face, before I run up the stairs while he chases me. When I burst through his bedroom door, I stop in the doorway, glancing around the room in a bit of shock. Nothing has changed in the last three years since he left.
“It’s like you never left,” I whisper. It’s eerie, but at the same time comforting, knowing that some things haven’t changed.
Rough hands push me forward, and the door slams behind me, before his chiseled arms circle my waist from behind. With one hand, he moves my hair from my neck, a hot breath tracing the valley of my skin.
“When I look at you, I wish I didn’t,” he says, groggy, every word drilling into my core. Not getting any time to process what he’s saying, he spins me, his lips covering mine, and I bring my legs up, wrapping them around his waist as he carries me to the bed.
We both land on the bed with a thud, never breaking contact, as if I’m drowning and he’s the oxygen I’ve been lacking. My hands reach for the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head. Licking my lips, I hold back, enjoying the sight of his bare chest while the tips of my fingers stroke his hard six-pack. An extra set of tattoos is carved into his skin, and I gasp, tracing the lines.
“Fuck me,” I mutter, not understanding how much his body had changed until this very moment.
“That’s the plan.”
When he pulls my hands above my head, I arch my back, wanting to feel him between my legs. He roughly pulls my shirt over my head, then pushes my jeans down until I’m lying in nothing but my lingerie, feeling completely exposed but not giving a fuck right now. Thank God I put on a matching set this morning .
He’s looking at me like he will tear me apart, and I want nothing more. I arch my back to unclasp my bra before throwing it across the room.
“Still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He drags a finger from my ankle all the way up to my thighs, and I let out a moan, biting my lip as the sensation makes my body shiver. My thong is growing wetter by the second, and I swallow hard when he finally moves his finger up and down the damp fabric.
“You want me, babe?” If you’d asked me this morning, my answer would be: not in a million years . But now? There’s nothing I want more. In fact, I’m pretty sure my brain will not function properly until I get the release that was named and claimed by Hunter Hansen from the moment he put his lips on mine.
I frantically nod, having a hard time finding my words while my senses force me to let out a desperate cry. Before I can answer, he rips my thong off my body, spreading my legs wide as he crawls toward my center.
“Good girl.” Oh, someone mop me off the floor.
His tongue darts out, licking through my center, and I cry out in pleasure as he kisses my pussy like he kisses my mouth in a dozen contradictions. Sweet, but eager. Gently, but determined. Slowly, but surely. So fucking surely. He eats me like he hasn’t eaten for days, but still manages to savor like I’m his fucking oasis.
This blissful fog clogs my brain, my vision blurring with each moan that rumbles through my lips. I’ve only slept with Hunter a handful of time, but suddenly I remember why no one could live to up to it.
“Shh,” he says, brushing his lips against my folds, shutting my eyes. “You don’t want to wake up the Wicked Witch of the East.” Just as the words leave his lips, he sucks my clit, and I let out a desperate screech that makes him laugh in response. Not wanting to wake up his mother, I press my hands over my mouth, muffling my own grumbles as he keeps working his way around my aching clit. His moves are filled with intent, knowing exactly what he’s doing when he softly caresses the area around my sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue. Oh my fucking GOD.
Nearly touching, combined with long sucks and long strokes, moving all the way up, until he comes back down, pushing his tongue inside of me, licking my tightening walls.
A finger enters my body, stretching me wide in a taunting way, his lips covering my throbbing clit when my orgasm builds inside of me, making me bite my finger to make sure I don’t cry out in pleasure. His free hand reaches out, pulling me up, so that I’m leaning on my elbows. Cupping my breast, he keeps going at a scorching pace as I throw my head back, enjoying the ride. But when I flip my gaze back, his eyes are staring at me with a predatory look, like this chase to my high is as important to him as it is to me. They pin me down with his tongue between my legs, wordlessly ordering me to release in the most intense way.
My body takes over, climbing the summit as fast as I can. His fingers move into my mouth, and I suck hard, groaning, while he does the same on my clit. Finally, he covers my mouth with his hand as he flicks my clit at a quick pace, and he pushes me over the edge, shattering me from the inside. I let out a faint scream, muffled by his hand, while I ride out my wave of pleasure as my legs shake until the moment passes.
My body goes limp, and I look up at the ceiling, panting as he takes off his pants, putting on a condom when he moves his body over mine. His lips hover above my face with an arrogant smirk.
“Missed me?”
“Shut up, asshole,” I mutter, crushing my lips against his. His tongue dances with mine, and I can taste my own saltiness on his lips, turning me on even more .
“I want you, Hunter,” I huff, pushing my nails into his bare ass, demanding him to take the plunge.
“God, you’re so sexy.” He rests his face in my neck, leaving a trail of kisses on the crook before his tip aligns with my center. Without waiting another second, I push him inside of me, crying out a delicious moan when he stretches me.
“Fuck,” he mumbles against my skin when his teeth sink into my neck. My hands hold his head locked against me as he starts to thrust, and a flood of emotion washes over my body. The warmth of him melts any wall that stood between us, my body and mind perfectly aligning as they open up to him in every way possible. Like a kaleidoscope, my body alights now that it’s glued against his, and I know I’m absolutely and utterly fucked.
My eyes well up when my own question runs through my head like an omen, asking me when the last time I was happy. He keeps pushing against my walls at a blistering pace, while I close my eyes, scared to voice what I knew since the moment I saw him standing in front of me today. Knowing that if I admit it, I’m gone. Forever caught in his grasp, with no way out. Yet I know there is no denying it.
Because for once, my mind and my heart are exactly on the same page, knowing there is only one answer to that question.
Now.
Today.
Hunter Hansen makes me happier than anything else in this world, even if it’s just for five minutes, giving him the ability to break me with every single word, every single move, yet I would take the risk every single time.
He grunts above me, his hand fisting my hair, demanding, when he locks his eyes with mine, giving me a possessive look that reminds me of the alpha male he shows in the cage. His jaw clenches and his face tightens, showing me he’s close to his release .
“Deeper,” I cry, my eyes never deviating from his, pressing my nails into his arms.
His hips push his shaft even deeper, grinding along my clit just the way I like it. It doesn’t take long before my walls tightening once more, and he lets out a growl, pushing a bruising kiss against my lips. Then he presses his forehead against mine as he picks up the pace, bringing us both closer with every second.
“Fuck, Charlotte. I’m coming.” I let out a moan in encouragement, pushing his ass closer against my body until finally his face goes rigid, and my walls squeeze his dick in the best way. He lets out a feral cry, and I do the same when he drops himself onto my body. The fatigue relaxes his muscles as I enjoy his weight on top of me.
My hands move to his back, brushing his spine with my nails, while his breath lingers on my neck.
“Fuck, babe,” he murmurs against my skin, making me let out a sex-drunk chuckle.
“I know.” The corner of my mouth moves up in a content smile, before my face falls just a little, wondering how long we will be able to stay like this.