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“Sorry to hear that for you.”
We stare at each other and I think of what else to ask him. “Do you still keep in touch with Alexis and Jackson?”
“No.” His answer and tone hold no emotion. “We drifted apart, so, to answer your question from the other day, no, I didn’t go running back to Alexis to comfort her. I’m sure she will do just fine without me.”
Now he sounds bitter and even though he has his guard up, the dullness in his eyes gives him away. The sight makes me think something really bad happened between them. Him, Alexis, and Jackson.
“Anything else, Bellissima?”
“No, not tonight.” I feel like I shouldn’t ask anymore questions, so I won’t.
“Then it’s my turn for questions.” He smiles and becomes the Hunter I know.
Thrown off guard, my mouth goes dry. I didn’t expect him to ask me anything.
“What more do you want to know about me? You seem to know a lot already.” I drink the cocktail so I have something to do besides focusing on the intensity of his stare.
Hunter steps away from the cupboard and walks up to me, moving into my personal space when he steps between my legs.
Having him so close again with my legs parted sends a rush of desire straight to my pussy.
He takes the drink out of my hand and sets it next to the journal, then he touches my face, sliding his thumb from my cheek to the edge of my chin, where he stays.
“There’s more to you than Harvard, manga, and being daddy’s little girl.”
Under his scrutinizing stare I feel just as naked and exposed as the first night we met. Suddenly I’m vulnerable and I don’t like what he called me—daddy’s little girl. It’s the tone he used.
He made me sound weak, but I know why he’s calling me that.
It’s because I’m the daughter who seems to have most of my father’s affection and always follows his orders. Even being here is an example of that.
“I’m not daddy’s little girl.” I lift my chin but Hunter maintains his grasp on me.
“No?” He searches my eyes.
“No. I do a lot for my father but I know what I want.”
“I don’t doubt that, Bellissima.” His grin expands, bringing out the dimples, and I feel like my answer just landed me in a trap.
“What questions did you have for me?” I ask, trying to ignore the racy position we’re in and the way he’s still touching me.
Hunter lets go of my chin and sets his hands down on the desk either side of me. That places him a breath away from my lips.
“Was I the first completely naked man you’ve ever seen?”
There it is—the trap. And like all traps, I never saw the question coming.
“Pray tell,” he adds with a wicked grin.
“Yes.”
“So mine was the first cock you’ve ever seen?”
Ugh. This is so typical of him. To put me in a position where my back seems to be against a wall so he can strip me down layer by layer and appeal to my weakness—which now seems to be him.
“Yes.”
“So, not Ryan’s?”
