Beside him, Brie sighed softly. The sound went straight through him. He turned his head, finding her face in the dim light. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, expression peaceful.
Beautiful.
Her hand rested at the edge of her table. Without thinking, he reached out. Their fingers found each other in the space between, interlacing naturally. She squeezed gently, and something in his chest unlocked.
The therapist moved to his lower back, working on damage from years of body armor. Each press of her hands seemed to push out more than physical pain. Loneliness leaked from his muscles. Isolation drained from his tendons. All the years of sleeping in empty apartments, waking alone, convincing himself this was what he’d chosen.
His eyes burned. When was the last time he’d cried? His mother’s funeral, maybe. Thirty years ago. But here, in this dim room with Brie’s hand in his, tears slipped down his face, silent and hot.
“You okay?” Brie whispered.
“Yeah.” His voice came out rough. “Better than okay.”
Her fingers squeezed his again. The simple touch anchored him as his body continued its rebellion against decades of control.Every defense he’d built, every wall he’d constructed, crumbled under gentle hands and warm oil.
After the massage, they dressed again in their separate changing rooms. Hunter’s hands felt clumsy with his buttons, his body too loose, too open. When he emerged, Brie was waiting in the hallway, back in her dress from dinner. She looked at him differently now, like she could see everything he’d been holding back.
The elevator ride up felt like ascending from another world. When the doors opened, the lobby stretched before them. The restaurant to their right was still busy with late diners, the massive fireplace crackled, and across the space, glass doors led to the world-famous atrium.
“I don’t want to go back to the apartment yet,” Brie said.
“The atrium’s still open.” He gestured toward the glass doors. “We could walk.”
They crossed the lobby slowly, his hand finding the small of her back again. The atrium doors opened into manufactured summer. The humid air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and earth. A glass ceiling soared above them, showing stars scattered across the November sky. Palm fronds and elephant ears created winding paths through the tropical landscape.
They found a bench tucked in a corner, hidden by bird of paradise plants that bloomed orange and purple in the dim tiki lights. The only sounds were the distant trickle of water and their own breathing.
“It’s beautiful,” Brie said, looking up through the glass at the stars.
“Not as beautiful as you.”
She turned to him, and his breath caught. The humidity had made her hair curl at her temples. Her eyes were huge in the dim light, full of something that made his chest tight.
“Hunter...”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I walked through the front door of your bakery.” Hair falling out of a ponytail, flour on her cheek, looking like he’d betrayed her. The words were pulled from him by the vulnerability the massage had exposed.
“Then why haven’t you?”
His thumb found her lower lip, barely touching. She trembled, and his control frayed further. “Because once I kiss you, I can’t go back to sleeping on your couch.”
“Then don’t.”
The permission destroyed him.
His hand cupped her face, fingers sliding into her hair. He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn’t. Instead, she tilted her face up, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting in invitation.
The first contact was a soft brush of their lips. She gasped against his mouth, and lightning raced through his veins. He pressed closer, tasting her properly. Chocolate and wine. His mate. Finally.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened instantly, all the loneliness and want pouring out of him. His other hand found her waist, hauling her against him.She made a desperate, needy sound that shattered what was left of his restraint.
He pulled her onto his lap. His mouth never left hers as his hands tangled in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. She responded with equal desperation, her tongue sliding against his, teeth catching his lower lip hard enough to sting.
“Hunter,” she gasped when he moved to her neck, his mouth finding the spot where it met her shoulder. He scraped his teeth there, and she arched against him.
His hands were everywhere, sliding down her sides, gripping her thighs, pulling her impossibly closer. The mate bond blazed between them, electric and undeniable. Every cell in his body screamed to claim her, mark her, make her completely his. She seemed to feel it too, her hands exploring his chest under his jacket, her hips grinding into his hardening cock with unmistakable intent.
Her dress had ridden up to her hips. His hands gripped her thighs, feeling the heat of her. She rolled her hips against him again. He pressed against her hot pussy, his mouth on her throat, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse race under his lips.
