Page 13 of The Unexpected

“I’m not embarrassed,” I snap, ears hot with embarrassment. “It’s just—” I search for the word. “It’s complicated. And size isn’t the only thing that matters.”

He lets the silence stretch, like he’s savoring it. “I beg to disagree, my dear. Size matters very much. I thought you wanted to ‘lose your senses,’” he says, quoting me from who-knows-when. “Didn’t look like he was the right size to make that happen.”

I glare. “For your information, Brad is a very nice person.”

“Nice,” Hunter repeats, making the word sound like a diagnosis.

“And,” I add, “just so you know, there was no actual sex. It didn’t get that far.”

Hunter smirks again, although I can tell he’s listening closely. “Why not?”

I stare at my coffee, feeling the memory flush hot in my cheeks. “I don’t know. He was too small and well… I couldn’t feel if he was inside,” I say lamely. “So maybe it happened. Or maybe it didn’t.”

He watches me a second longer, then, with a suddenness that makes me jump, he laughs. It’s a real laugh, deep and rollicking, like this is the best joke he’s ever heard. It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh like this. Not a CEO laugh, not a polite chuckle, but something unguarded and wild.

“I saw the look on your face when you saw what he was working with,” Hunter says, grinning now. “I thought you were going to burst out in tears. Poor kid.”

I make a face. “It’s not funny. I think he was really self-conscious.”

“I’m sure he’ll recover. Maybe not until next year, but eventually. There are penis enhancements, and penis pumps, and lots of shit like that,” Hunter lifts his mug, watching me over the rim. “You, on the other hand⁠—”

“What about me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drops to my lips, then my bare collarbones, then back up. I realize, all at once, that I’m not the only one replaying last night.

He sets the mug down, fingers splayed on the table. “You want to know what the real problem is, Stella?”

“Enlighten me.”

He leans in, his voice low, not quite a whisper. “You crave something you’ve never had. You want to be ruined. You want someone to take control and show you just how filthy you can be.”

The words hit me like a slap. My heart lurches, and for a second, I can’t breathe. There’s a flash of last night—the taste of his seed, the burn in my throat, the way my own hands shook as I tried to keep up. I look down at my plate, fighting the memory, but it’s hopeless.

Hunter’s voice is gentler when he says, “You don’t need to settle for boys who can’t handle you.”

I grip the coffee mug so tight it leaves an imprint on my palm. “And I suppose you think you can?”

He cocks his head. “You already know I can.”

It’s so matter-of-fact that it almost makes me laugh. “You’re not even supposed to be here,” I say, pushing my plate away. “You’re not even really family. Technically, you’re—” I gesture vaguely.

“My father married your grandmother,” Hunter says, with an exaggerated patience. “It’s not incest, Stella. We’re not biologically related, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I didn’t say it was,” I say, but my voice is small.

He stands, crossing to the counter to pour himself more coffee. The movement is easy, practiced. He pours a cup for me, too, and sets it down at my place without asking. I watch the swirl of cream mix in, a slow storm, and realize I’m not just nervous—I’m excited. My skin is prickling, alive.

“Your father wants me to keep an eye on you,” he says, refilling his own mug. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

He turns, blue eyes flat and clear as a glacier. “I’m here because I want to be.”

I don’t know what to say to that. For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The cleaning crew moves through the foyer, the vacuum’s hum fading into silence. I hear the distant sound of a car engine turning over, then nothing.

Finally, I break. “What happens now?”

Hunter sets down his mug and leans back against the counter, arms crossed. “That depends on you.”