6. Stevie
six
stevie
I ESCAPED TO the bathroom to get away from Hunter’s intense gaze.
He’s been staring at me, devouring me with his eyes, from the moment I stepped out of my apartment, and it’s making me dizzy. I’ve never felt so heated.
An insane part of me wants him to grab me and kiss me, push me against the wall and lift my dress, touch me where no man has ever touched me before.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I check my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is immaculate. I wash my hands for a long time, trying to calm my jagged nerves. When I finally leave the bathroom, Hunter is waiting for me, leaning against the wall in the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest.
I’ve never seen a more gorgeous man. From his high cheekbones and cool blue gaze to the way his tux fits his strong body like a glove, he’s like something out of a dream.
We stare at each other and there’s no denying the heat and tension passing between us.
“Can you take me home?” I blurt. If he doesn’t take me home immediately, I don’t think I can handle much more of his presence without spontaneously combusting.
Hunter shakes his head and crooks a finger at me, beckoning me toward him. I go like a moth to a flame. He puts his hands on my hips, towering over me. Even in my heels, the top of my head barely reaches his chin.
“I need to go home,” I stammer.
“Shh.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s not time to leave yet.” He leans in close and whispers in my ear. “Why don’t I take you to my place, strip you bare, throw you on my bed, and fuck your virgin pussy until you bleed and scream and beg me to stop?”
His filthy words send shockwaves through me. Did he really just say that or am I hallucinating? Nobody, and I mean nobody, has ever spoken to me like that. I should be outraged. I should slap him. Instead, my traitorous body ignites.
He grabs my chin and looks deep into my eyes. “What do you say to that, Stevie?”
“How—how did you know I’m a virgin?”
His lips pull into a satisfied smile. “I didn’t. But you just confirmed it, sweetheart.”
Shit. I’m an idiot.
Hunter gently pushes me until my back is against the wall.
His thumb slides along my jaw and I take a deep breath.
His gaze drops to my cleavage. Dropping his head to my chest, he inhales deeply and rubs his nose from the tops of my breasts up along my neck and to my ear.
He nips my earlobe and I squeak. I think I’m going to faint.
“Stop,” I tell him, my voice coming out all meek and breathy.
Hunter rubs his nose against mine. “Stop? Do you mean that?”
I gulp, knowing damn well I don’t mean it at all. But I’m flustered by my warring emotions. One part of me wants to run. The other part wants to stick my tongue down Hunter’s throat. I wish he would just hurry up and kiss me.
“I—I don’t know,” I tell him honestly.
“For the record, if you ever really want me to stop, you’ll use the safe word.”
“Safe word?”
“Yes. A word that’s not ‘stop.’ A codeword that stays between us.”
I tremble as he speaks against my skin, his breath hot and teasing.
His lips have been hovering close to my lips for excruciatingly long minutes, but he hasn’t touched them to mine.
My breathing is shallow. I feel like prey.
Prey that’s being toyed with. Prey that is completely at the predator’s mercy.
Prey that is enjoying every second of it.
Hunter brings his lips within a centimeter of mine. “So,” he says. “What do you want our codeword to be, princess?”
I have no idea. All my focus is concentrated on his lips and how close they are to mine, and how desperately I want to taste him. I shake my head. “I can’t think of one.”
His lips spread in a slow, sensuous smile. “I’ll pick it for you. Let’s go with ‘ice.’”
“Ice,” I echo, feeling anything but cold. My body is absolutely on fire.
“Yes, princess.” And his lips are almost on mine.
“Hunter!”
We break apart and turn towards the unexpected voice. It’s Hunter’s father. He looks thunderous. Hunter pulls away, maneuvering his body so it shields me from his father’s view.
“Yes?” he says in a calm, controlled tone. Gone is the teasing voice he had been using with me. I’m fascinated by this instant change in him.
“I need you. Let’s go.” His father snaps his fingers and I freeze. Hunter stiffens in front of me, tension evident in every line of his body. “Now, Hunter.”
Hunter gives me a cursory glance, his eyes colder than I’ve ever seen them, and follows after his father. I exhale and sag against the wall, unaware of how tightly I’d been holding myself in anticipation of Hunter’s kiss. The kiss that never came.
I can’t believe his father snapped his fingers at Hunter. Like his only son is nothing more than a dog to him. It was horrible to witness. Maybe Hunter is right and it’s better to have no dad at all than an asshole that calls you like a dog.
My parents divorced when I was only three years old, and my father remarried soon after. He had other children and barely ever came to see me again, like I’d never even existed. I’ve never even met my half siblings. But at least I have a wonderful mom.
I take a deep breath and return to the party.
I don’t see Hunter anywhere and eventually stop looking for him, instead turning my attention to all the art on the walls.
Some of it is too abstract for my taste, but there are quite a few fascinating and beautiful pieces that hold my interest for many minutes.
“Have a favorite yet?” Hunter’s uncle Jack stops beside me as I’m studying a painting depicting a mother with her back to the viewer, her child in her arms with its head on her shoulder.
The child is fast asleep, safe and comfortable in her mother’s arms. There are several such depictions of mother and child by the same artist.
“This one,” I tell Hunter’s uncle. “I seem to be gravitating toward all the mother and child paintings by this artist.”
“Yes. Holly Weaver. She’s very talented. She’s like a modern-day Mary Cassatt.”
“Yes,” I say, immediately realizing the connection. “I remember learning about Cassatt in my art history class senior year of high school.”
“You took art history?” He looks surprised.
“It was my favorite class.”
Jack gives me an appraising look. “Mine as well.”
“Stevie, come on. It’s time to go.” Hunter appears behind us as if materializing from thin air. He looks impatient and agitated. And here I thought nothing could ruffle his feathers, but it’s clear his father holds a lot of power over him.
“Leaving so soon?” His uncle looks genuinely disappointed.
“Yeah, sorry,” Hunter says dismissively, wrapping his strong fingers around my upper arm and all but dragging me away. I struggle to keep up with his long strides.
“Can you slow down?” I finally ask.
He comes to a stop and lets go of my upper arm. “Sorry,” he says, sounding completely distracted. His arm comes around my shoulder, and this time he’s much gentler as he leads me toward the exit.
The valet already has his car ready. Hunter helps me inside before going over to the driver’s side, and I watch in utter disbelief as he hands the valet guy a hundred-dollar tip. “Have a lovely evening, Mr. Cruise,” the man says.
We race down the empty street.
I clutch my seat with both hands as the speedometer rises and rises and rises.
“Hunter,” I squeak. “Please slow down.”
He looks over at me like he forgot I was even there.
“Shit. Sorry.” He slows all the way down to the speed limit.
Minutes later, he’s pulling into my street and stopping in front of my apartment building. He gets out of the car without a word, helps me out of my seat, and walks me to the front door. He thanks me for a great night, and then he’s gone.
I’m left staring after him completely bewildered and wondering if I’ll ever see him again.
Once I’m back in my apartment, Becca pounces. “Tell me everything,” she says. “And don’t leave a single detail out.”