Chapter 35 Hunter
Hunter
“There you go rescuing me again,” she says, her voice soft and teasing.
I shake my head. “Ignoring him wasn’t working.”
She sighs. “You don’t have to protect me, you know.”
I turn to her, eyes catching hers under the dim porch light. “Of course I do.”
There’s something about her that silently beckons me to keep her safe, to shield her from all the shitty people in this world who want to use her and take advantage of her in all the ways.
The air thickens between us. She’s watching me like she’s waiting for something. I don’t know if it’s an explanation or an excuse, but I give her the truth instead.
“You know, I spent a lot of years convincing myself I didn’t need anyone,” I admit. “And then you rolled into town, all sunshine and big blue eyes, and for the first time, I’m questioning things I’ve never questioned before.”
She tilts her head, that amused half smile playing on her lips. “Such as?”
“Everything.”
She laughs, soft and breathy. “Can you be more specific?”
I rest my arm along the back of the swing, close enough to touch her but still keeping space between us because I don’t trust myself not to cross it.
“I’m thinking about the future differently now.
Used to be laser focused on growing the farm.
More acres, more staff, more everything. That was enough for me.”
I glance at her, watching her watch me.
“But now? Now I get in bed at night, and instead of sleeping, I just lay there, thinking about how it doesn’t have to be like this. I’m working myself to death and for what? I didn’t think there was another option until you showed up.”
She shifts, barely, but her eyes are still locked on mine.
“I know it’s crazy,” I add. “We’ve known each other what—less than a month? But already I know you’re different. You’re not like anyone around here.”
The corner of her mouth lifts, like she’s trying to fight a smile. And maybe it’s the porch light or the distance between us, but she’s got that glow about her again. Like she’s the only damn thing lighting up this night.
“And for the record,” I add, my voice lower, thicker, “it’s really fucking hard to sit next to you and not kiss you.”
Her cheeks flush instantly, and I get the sense she wants me to, but there’s hesitation in her demeanor, a flicker of restraint she’s clinging to like a lifeline.
“You don’t have to,” I tell her, quiet. “I just wanted you to know how I feel. I’m not good with words. I’ve said more to you these last few weeks than I’ve probably said to anyone all year.”
She lights, her eyes dancing. “You sure about that? You were pretty vocal when we—”
I groan, feeling the heat rush to my face. “Don’t remind me.”
She laughs, clamping a hand over her mouth, and I can’t help but laugh too.
“I had no idea where any of that came from,” I admit, still slightly embarrassed at the words that left my mouth that day as I was buried deep inside her. “Took me by surprise too.”
I look her over, the way she’s sitting there in her not-quite-sheer pajama top and matching shorts, her bare legs crossed, her hair messy from the day.
“It was primal,” I say, my voice dipping lower. “Taking you over the back of my tailgate like that. You’re so independent and strong, but when I had your hips in my hands and you just . . . surrendered to me—I couldn’t think of anything else but owning every inch of you.”
That does it.
She’s flushed now, visibly affected, her thighs pressing tighter together, her breath growing slightly uneven as she exhales.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, but I know.
She shakes her head, insistent. “Nothing. Just thinking about that. It was really hot, but it happened so fast. Almost feels like a fever dream.”
“Yeah.” I drag my palm along my beard. “If we could do it all over again, I’d take my time.”
She watches me, eyes glinting in the porch light, unreadable but wanting.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask, needing to know. I’ve never cared or put too much thought into what other people are thinking, but with her, I’d kill to know what’s going through that pretty little head of hers, especially when she’s looking at me like I’m the only man in the world.
“Things I have no business thinking about.”
I smile. “Yeah? Like what?”
She bites her lip, just a little, and tilts her head. “You tell me first.”
I don’t hesitate. “I’m thinking about how good it would feel having you in my arms again.”
It’s a bold statement, but saying it now, when she’s receptive and looking at me like she’s seconds from pouncing, it feels safe to say.
Her eyes flick down to my mouth and back up, and then, without a word, she climbs into my lap. She’s straddling me now, her knees on either side of my hips, her hands tentative on my shoulders.
“Don’t make me regret this,” she whispers.
“You won’t.”
She kisses me, hot and hungry, and I kiss her back twice as hard. My hands grip her waist, pulling her closer, her body pressing to mine in a way that makes my head spin. Her mouth is soft, eager, tasting like remnants of some sweet wine she must’ve drank earlier.
I slide my hands up her back, fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head back to taste her neck, deeper, slower. She makes this small sound in her throat that damn near undoes me.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathless.
“Come inside,” she whispers against my lips.
She doesn’t need to tell me twice.
“But we have to be quiet. Atticus is sleeping,” she adds.
I lift her, her legs hooking around my waist like she belongs there, her mouth never leaving mine. She tastes sweet, like the wine she was drinking earlier, like the kind of indulgence a man could get addicted to if he’s not careful.
She’s warm and soft against me, fingers twisting in the hair at the back of my neck, her breath shallow and hot.
I carry her through the front door, up the stairs, guided by muscle memory more than sight. The whole time, she kisses me like she’s starving, like I’m the only thing that’s ever made sense.
By the time we make it to her room, we’re both breathing heavy. The bed’s unmade, the window cracked open just enough to let in the night air. It’s cool against my overheated skin.
I set her down gently, standing between her knees. She’s looking up at me, her hair a mess, cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen from kissing.
I push her hair back from her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. She looks so fucking beautiful it guts me. And those eyes? The way she looks at me? Half drunk on wine and half drunk on me? I’m a goner.
“I still got time to back out?” I ask, voice low.
She shakes her head, eyes locked on mine. “Don’t you dare.”
I grin and lean down, kissing her slow. Taking my time. No rush. Not like before. I want to memorize this—her.
Her hands are on my chest, pulling at my shirt, fingertips grazing my stomach, and I let her tug it off me. She sits up just enough to press her mouth to my chest, kissing a line down the center, her tongue flicking out just barely. It’s enough to make my pulse spike, my body aching for more.
I let her explore, but not for long.
I slide my hands under her tank top, fingertips brushing her sides, her waist, her ribs, until she shivers beneath my touch.
“Off.” I tug at the flimsy fabric.
She raises her arms, and I drag it over her head, tossing it somewhere behind me. She’s not wearing a bra, and the sight of her bare like this, flushed and eager, makes my throat go dry.
I bend down and kiss her again, this time moving to her neck, her collarbone, down to her chest. She gasps when my mouth closes around her nipple, my tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make her hips buck.
“Hunter,” she breathes, her fingers threading through my hair, holding me there.
I take my time, tasting her, touching her, feeling every shiver, every hitch of her breath. I want to ruin her for anyone else. I want to make sure she never forgets what this feels like—what I feel like.
Her shorts come off next, dragged down her legs slow and deliberate. She watches me with slitted eyes, her chest rising and falling, her thighs pressing together like she’s trying to hold herself together.
I kiss the inside of her knee, then her thigh, working my way up until I’m pressed between her legs, tasting her, teasing her, making her squirm.
She bites her lip to stay quiet, but I hear the way her breath catches, the muffled moans she’s trying to swallow down.
When she’s trembling, when her hands are fisting the sheets, I pull back and crawl up her body, kissing her stomach, her ribs, her neck, until we’re face-to-face again.
“Condom?” I ask, my voice rough, barely holding it together. Last time happened so fast, that thought didn’t cross my mind. I had to take her, then and there. This time? I want her to feel respected, wanted in a different way. Tonight I’m taking my time.
She nods, reaching to her nightstand, pulling one from the drawer.
I tear it open, roll it on, and then I’m settling between her legs, her body warm and inviting, her eyes locked on mine.
I push into her slow, deep, savoring every inch, every gasp, every dig of her nails in my back.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my forehead resting against hers. “You feel . . . fuck, Wren. It’s impossible to describe. It’s just . . . incredible.”
She bites her lip, eyes fluttering shut, her hands sliding down my back, her legs wrapping tighter around me like she wants to keep me there forever.
I move slow, deep, each thrust deliberate, wanting her to feel every second of this. I watch her face, the way her mouth parts, the little sounds she makes when she forgets to hold back.
When she starts getting louder, I press my hand over her mouth, eyes locked on hers.
“Shh.” I whisper in her ear, “Atticus is sleeping.”
Her eyes go wide, dark and blown, and she nods beneath my hand, her breathing ragged, desperate.
I kiss her, hand still over her mouth, and she kisses me back just as fiercely, her hips meeting mine, her body clenching around me like she’s about to fall apart.
“Goddamn, Wren,” I say against her mouth. “You’re gonna be my ruin, the way you keep doing this to me.”
She digs her heels into my back, her body tensing, trembling, her hands gripping me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I feel her come apart beneath me, feel the way she tightens around me, her muffled moans like music in my ear.
I’m not far behind. I bury my face in her neck, breathing her in, moving faster now, chasing that edge until I finally let go, my body shuddering, falling apart with her.
I collapse onto her, careful not to crush her, my face still in her neck, my arms wrapped around her like I’m afraid to let go.
We’re both breathing hard, the room quiet except for the sound of our hearts pounding, the faint buzz of crickets outside.
I kiss her neck, soft, lingering. She runs her fingers through my hair, gentle, slow.
I don’t want to move. Don’t want to leave the warmth of her body, the quiet of this moment.
Eventually, I pull back just enough to look at her, her hair a mess, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen.
“You okay?” I ask.
She smiles, lazy and soft. “Better than.”
I grin, kiss her forehead, and lie back beside her, pulling her into my arms, her head on my chest.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not thinking about work, or the farm, or the weather, or today’s grain prices, or even what comes next.
I’m only thinking about her.