Page 67 of Hunter

He makes a contented little sound and nuzzles closer, one leg sliding over mine possessively. His hand drifts lower, resting just above the worst of the burns on my shoulder blade, and I tense for half a second before forcing myself to relax.

Charlie lifts his head just enough to look at me, eyes searching mine in the dim lamplight. Then he leans in and presses the gentlest kiss right over one of the older scars—the ones that didn’t get burned again last time. His lips are warm and careful, like he’s trying to heal something with just that single touch.

My throat tightens so suddenly I can’t speak.

I just pull him back down against me and hold him tighter, burying my face in his messy golden curls. He doesn’t resist. He just melts into it, letting me take what I need without asking for anything in return. His arms wrap around my waist, one leg hooked over mine, his breath warm against my collarbone.

Eventually, his breathing evens out. His body goes heavy and pliant against me as sleep pulls him under.

It’s the best feeling in the whole fucking world.

Chapter 27

Charlie

Late morning light pours through the windows, soft and golden, painting everything in warm tones.

I wake up slowly, disoriented, my brain still fuzzy with sleep. For a long moment, I don’t know where I am. The usual weight of exhaustion and dread that normally greets me is… gone. My body feels heavy in the best way, warm and loose, like I’ve been floating for hours instead of fighting my own mind.

Then I feel him.

The solid, warm body underneath me. The steady rise and fall of a broad chest beneath my cheek. The strong arm draped possessively across my back, fingers loosely curled over the curve of my ass. The unmistakable press of naked skin against naked skin—his thigh between mine, my morning wood trapped, warm and heavy against his hip.

Hunter.

I’m draped over him like a living blanket, my face tucked into the center of his chest, one leg thrown over his, my arm curled around his side. He’s still fast asleep, breathing deep and even, the low thump of his heartbeat steady under my ear. His other hand rests on my lower back like it belongs there, like he pulled me closer even in his sleep.

I haven’t slept through the night like this in months. Maybe longer. No nightmares. No waking up gasping with the taste of incense and old carpet in my throat. No cold sweat or racing heart. Only peace. Deep, heavy, dreamless peace.

My eyes sting for a second. I blink it away and press my face harder into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sleep and faint cologne and me. The combination makes something warm and terrifying bloom in my chest.

I should let him sleep. I should be a good person and just curl up closer, soak up this rare quiet in my head, and enjoy the fact that I actually rested.

Instead, I press a soft, lingering kiss to the center of his chest, right over his heart.

Then I start sliding down his body.

Hunter doesn’t stir as I settle between his spread thighs. He looks peaceful like this, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted, morning light catching on the stubble along his jaw and the faint scars on his shoulder. My heart does something stupid and fluttery at the sight.

I lean down and press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the base of his cock. It twitches against my lips, plumping slightly with the barest of touches. I smile and drag my tongue up the length of him, savoring the velvety heat, the way he thickens against my tongue.

A soft, sleepy sound escapes him, not quite a moan, more like a low rumble in his chest. His hips shift the tiniest bit, as though his body is reaching for me even while his mind is still asleep. I take that as encouragement and wrap my lips around the head, sucking gently while my tongue swirls.

Another quiet moan slips out of him, deeper this time. His cock hardens fully in my mouth, growing heavier on my tongue. I hum around him, taking him deeper, and his breathing changes—becoming rougher, uneven. One of his hands twitches against the sheets.

I start a slow rhythm, sliding my mouth up and down, savoring every inch of him. Little sounds keep falling from his lips; soft, unconscious moans and sighs that makes heat pool low in my stomach. He’s so responsive even in his sleep, hips giving these tiny, helpless rolls as if he’s chasing the pleasure without fully realizing it.

Then his hand finds my hair.

Hunter’s fingers thread through my curls, as a deeper groan vibrates through his chest. His eyes flutter open, hazy and dark with sleep and lust.

“Charlie…” His voice is gravel-rough. “Fuck… what are you doing to me?”

I pull off just enough to look up at him. “Waking you up properly.”

His grip tightens in my hair. For a second, I think he might pull me off, but instead, he lets out a low, filthy groan and lifts his hips, sliding his cock back between my lips.

“Then don’t stop,” he rasps, eyes locked on mine as he starts to thrust shallowly into my mouth. “God, your mouth feels so fucking good.”