I sat, tugging at his jeans, my fingers fumbling at the button until he helped, shedding them along with his boots. And then there was nothing between us but the air, charged and thick.
“Still okay?” he asked again, his voice quieter now, a little hoarse.
“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. “Hunter, I want this. I need you.”
The way he looked at me then—like he’d been waiting years to hear me say that—sent a shiver straight through my entire body. He reached for the condom, tore the foil open with his teeth, and rolled it on without breaking eye contact.
When he lowered himself over me, his forehead pressed to mine, I could feel his heart racing against my chest. “If this changes anything for you tomorrow, tell me. I’ll handle it.”
“It’s not going to change how I feel about you,” I whispered. “If anything, I’m afraid it’s going to make it stronger.”
“Same for me. I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Hunter…” His name was a confession on my lips, hope and fear tangled together.
He kissed me softly, and in that quiet, I realized there was no turning back. Every part of me was open, vulnerable, and it wasn’t just my body he was holding—it was all of me, laid bare and trusting him to cherish it.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he murmured, and then he kissed me as he eased into me, slow and steady, giving me time to adjust to his size.
The first movement stole my breath. The second had me gripping his shoulders, my nails digging into warm muscle as he found a rhythm that felt like we’d been made for it. Every shift, every thrust was measured, intentional—not just chasing release, but building something that felt a lot like trust, like love and history, and what had always been meant to be finally being allowed to happen.
I gasped his name when he shifted slightly, hitting a spot that made my back arch off the table. His hand slid up my side, fingers splaying over my ribs, holding me there while his mouth found mine again and his thumb traced over my nipple.
Somewhere between his low, rough murmurs in my ear and the way his hips moved with that deliberate, devastating precision, I stopped thinking entirely. I let myself feel every inch of him, every shiver, every sigh he breathed against me.
When the wave finally broke over me, I clung to him, my whole body trembling. He followed moments later, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, his breath coming in hard, uneven bursts.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The only sound was the faint hum of the jukebox and the slowing beat of our hearts against each other.
He brushed a kiss along my jaw, then my temple, before pulling back just enough to look at me. “You okay?”
His question broke through the haze, grounding me gently. I managed a shaky laugh, nodding as I brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Yeah. More than okay.” My voice was softer than I meant it to be, full of all the things I wasn’t quite ready to say out loud yet, but I saw the understanding in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as our breaths slowly evened out together, the quiet between us comfortable and safe.
His smile was small but certain, and he pressed one more kiss to my lips—gentle this time, almost reverent—before helping me sit up and reach for my clothes.
As I pulled my shirt back on, I caught sight of our reflection in the dusty mirror on the far wall. My hair was a mess, my lips swollen and red, and Hunter was watching me like he’d just discovered his favorite view in the world.
And that was the moment I knew—whatever came next, however complicated it got—I would never regret this.
He met my gaze in the mirror, his expression softening into something impossibly gentle. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was full—heavy with promise, with meaning I didn’t need to put into words. I reached for his hand, fingers threading through his, and for a moment, it was just the two of us suspended in the quiet aftermath, the world outside forgotten. It felt like the beginning of something new, even as we stood in the familiar shadows of the bar.
Hunter found my jeans and undies on the floor before I did, holding them out with a half-smile that was a little smug and a lot tender. “These are yours, I think.”
I rolled my eyes, tugging them back on while trying not to smile too much. “You’re lucky I’m too blissed out to sass you properly.”
His low laugh rumbled through the room, warm and easy. “Guess I’ll take advantage of that while I can.”
We didn’t rush. Not in that awkward, fumbling way you sometimes did after something like this. He tossed the used condom in the trash in the corner, slipped into his jeans, then leaned back against the pool table, watching me smooth my shirt down. There wasn’t any distance in his gaze, no regret—just that steady Hunter way of looking at me like I’d hung the moon.
I grabbed my hair tie from where it had fallen to twist my hair back up, but his hand caught my wrist halfway.
“Leave it,” he said softly. “I like it down. It’s beautiful.”
For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, that made my chest ache in the best way. I let the tie fall to the table.
We finished getting dressed, then moved around the space together without talking—me stacking the last few clean glasses, him grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door, switching off lights as he went. It was easy. Comfortable in a way that didn’t make sense for what had just happened, but maybe that was the point.
In the main bar, the jukebox had shifted to a slow song, the kind that made the room feel warmer even in the dim light. He shut it down, and I flicked the back room light off. The faint scent of chalk dust lingered behind us as we crossed the floor to the door.
