Chapter 58
Hunter
As I lie there, still balls deep in my woman, with her sprawled across my chest, I can’t help but smile.
A fucking smile.
Me.
The very idea should be laughable.
Yet here I am.
And it feels good. Not just the fucking part.
Her.
Having her here. Tucked beneath my arm, exactly where she belongs.
Fucking mine.
I’m not about to pretend I don’t enjoy the fact that she let me touch her again.
With Piper, it seems I have to fight for every inch she gives me, and when she finally lets go of whatever keeps her away from me, when she finally stops resisting this thing between us, it feels like bloody heaven.
She tries to move, but I keep her where she is, and after a moment she abandons any attempt to get out of this bed.
My cock twitches inside her, and she lifts her head, an incredulous look on her face.
A deep, booming sound leaves my chest.
She shakes her head.
Eventually, I let her push away from me. The moment she does, she winces slightly.
Right.
I wasn’t exactly gentle.
But she takes me so damn well and enjoys every second of it, if the sounds she makes and the way she begs for more are anything to go by.
Fuck. The thought alone nearly makes me come again.
She pulls on one of my shirts, and my jaw tightens. The bloody thing looks perfect on her.
She should keep it.
The possessive bastard in me takes too much satisfaction from the fact that she’s wrapped in my clothes, surrounded by my scent. If I could also have her covered in my cum every day of the week…
With Piper, I find myself wanting things I never wanted before.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
I pull on my boxers and lean back against the headboard. Before she can put any real distance between us, I catch her by the waist and pull her back into bed beside me.
A laugh escapes her, and the sound is absurdly pleasing.
I guide her down until her head rests on my chest, then pull the duvet over us both.
I’ve never done this in my life.
I presume this is what people call cuddling.
Not once have I considered myself capable of it.
Piper, however, appears determined to make a liar of me, because with her I do things I once would have sworn were impossible.
“So the Olympics?” I ask, breaking the silence and taking the opportunity to learn something about her.
Because the truth is, for all the time I’ve spent watching her, wanting her, chasing her, obsessing over her, I know next to nothing.
Fragments at best.
An American family. Part of the Thirteen Circle. Ice skating. Years at the Academy, and boarding school before that, which probably explains the British accent that slips through every now and then.
And... a mother who died too young.
But it’s not enough.
Those are surface details. The sort of things anyone who runs a background check can find out.
“Yes,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing absent patterns along my chest. “I competed when I was fifteen.”
“That’s extraordinary. And you won gold.”
She only shrugs, as though it’s no great achievement.
I lift her chin, making her meet my eyes.
“It is extraordinary, Piper,” I repeat, more firmly.
She holds my gaze for a moment, a flash of emotion crosses her face, before she nods faintly and lets her head rest back on my chest.
“How do you feel about competing again?” I ask. “And why haven’t you until now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “Terrified, I suppose. But I want to compete. I do. It’s still a dream of mine. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”
Her fingers go still.
“My mum…”
The words die on her lips before she can finish the thought.
I resist the urge to press for more, because with Piper that approach has never worked. The harder I push, the further she withdraws, so I give her the time she needs and wait.
“My mum was an ice skater,” she continues after a moment. “Matilda Ashthorne. I don’t know if you’ve heard of her.”
I have.
Not because I follow ice skating, but because I know everything there is to know about Piper, including her family.
“She competed internationally,” she goes on. “Singles and pairs. Three Olympic gold medals.”
There’s something fragile in the way she says it. Like she’s holding the memory tightly.
“I always thought I’d follow in her footsteps,” she admits.
She falls silent again, and once more I let her.
“But I’ve already lost so much time,” she says. “If I don’t try again next season, I may never get another real chance.”
I shake my head in disbelief.
“You’re speaking as though your time has already passed,” I say. “You’re what, twenty-one?”
“Twenty-two,” she corrects softly.
“Twenty-two,” I repeat. “That’s hardly the end of anything.”
A small smile touches her lips, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“In this world, it can be.”
“Then why did you stop?” I ask again.
“I saw you watching me, you know,” she says suddenly, a genuine smile touches her lips, and I have the absurd urge to lean over and kiss it. “On the ice.”
“Your point?” I ask, keeping my expression neutral as I fight the smile that threatens to break through.
She laughs softly and turns in my arms until we’re face to face.
“Life happened.” Her smile fades. “I was fifteen when I lost my mother. It... it broke something in me.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.
“It sounds obvious, I know,” she murmurs. “But it felt like everything just… stopped. Like the world lost its meaning. And skating, something that used to be everything, it became agony.”
She swallows hard.
“People say it should bring you closer to them,” she goes on. “That doing what they loved keeps them alive somehow. But for me… it did the opposite. Every time I stepped on the ice, it was just a reminder that she wasn’t there anymore.”
Her voice breaks.
“I couldn’t do it. It hurt too much. So I stopped.”
I listen in silence, remaining perfectly still.
“And in this sport,” she adds quietly, “those years matter. Losing them... it changes everything.”
I frown, but I don’t get the chance to say anything before she continues.
“We were at the Olympics when it happened. I’d just finished competing.
I’d won gold. We were supposed to celebrate, and we did.
She’d arranged a dinner. Family and friends were already waiting at the restaurant.
There were flowers and gifts waiting for me.
” She shakes her head. “Everything was perfect. For the first time in my life, it felt as though I had it all.”
“And then, in the space of a single moment, it was gone. After dinner, there was an accident.”
Her voice breaks.
“If I hadn’t asked to go home... maybe we would’ve left later. Maybe that driver wouldn’t have been there at that exact moment. But I insisted…”
“No.” The word comes out harder than I intended, but I don’t care. She needs to hear this.
“You are not responsible for what happened, Piper, and I don’t ever want to hear you blame yourself for it again.”
She stays quiet.
I cup her face and bring her closer before pressing a slow kiss to her forehead.
She exhales softly and buries herself in my chest. I say nothing. There are no words for this, so I simply hold her.
She cries, and I let her.
Soon, the small sounds that fucking break my chest quieten, her breathing evens out, and the weight she carries seems a little less heavy.
And that’s how we fall asleep.
With Piper exactly where she belongs, tucked safely in my arms while I give her every ounce of comfort I can.