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Buster just lets his tongue loll out and gives a little snuffle, which I’m pretty sure means, “You’re hopeless, but I love you anyway.” He’s not wrong.

Okay. Outfits. I have exactly three dresses that might be acceptable for a late morning walk in the park. One is white and covered in tiny lemons, one is blue with a little cinched waist, and one is a red floral number that my mother swears brings out my eyes.

I go with the blue. It’s as close to “cute but casual” as I’m gonna get. I shimmy into it and hunt around for my comfortable walking sandals. Then I swipe on a little mascara and dab on a little lip balm.

Once I’m ready, I pace the living room with Buster trailing after me with every lap, whining under his breath. Each time I check the clock, only a minute has passed. How do people survive this? Am I the only person on Earth who gets this worked up over a simple walk? Probably.

I pep-talk myself in the mirror. “He likes you. He said it. You can do this. You are a strong, independent—” There’s a knock on the door.

My brain freezes. Buster loses his mind, barking and spinning in circles like he’s just won the lottery. My hands are shaking as I fumble with the lock, heart hammering so hard, I’m worried I’ll pass out.

I open the door, and… wow.

Hunter is standing there, all six-foot-something of him, wearing jeans that fit obscenely well and a plain gray T-shirt that looks tailor-made for his body. His dark hair is still damp from the shower, little silver streaks gleaming at his temples. There’s a tiny scar just above his eyebrow, a detail I never noticed before, and it somehow makes him even hotter. He’s holding a bag of treats in one hand and Buster’s new leash in the other.

Our eyes meet, and the air in the hallway thickens as Hunter’s gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. I freaking feel it in every molecule of my body.

For a beat, neither of us says a word.

He looks at me, really looks, and the heat in his eyes almost knocks me over. There’s so much want there that I have to hold on to the door for support. I can’t even remember my own name.

Then Hunter moves. His hands come up, so big and gentle I almost laugh at how careful he’s being, and cup my face. The warmth of his palms is a shock against my cheeks.

I forget how to breathe.

He leans in, so slow it feels like a dare. His forehead brushes mine, and I can feel his breath, warm and minty, ghosting over my lips.

“I’ve been dying to do this.” His voice sends shivers down my spine.

I shake my head, dizzy, waiting until he kisses me. The world implodes as his lips cover mine. There’s nothing soft about it. My hands shoot up, gripping his shoulders, and I feel the flex of muscle under my fingers.

His mouth moves over mine, hungry and wild, and I match him beat for beat. My lips part for his tongue, and the heat is instantaneous. My moan fills the room around us, and Hunter groans back, the sound vibrating straight through my chest, down to places I didn’t know could ache like this. He tilts my chin, deepening the kiss, and I let him. No, I mentally beg him.

For a second, there’s nothing but urgent, frantic, desperate need. My pulse hammers out of control.

When he finally breaks away, I gasp for breath. My head is spinning, legs like Jell-O, lips tingling from the force of his mouth on mine.

Hunter’s eyes are darker now, pupils blown. He keeps one hand cupped around my cheek, thumb stroking along my jaw. His other hand slides to the small of my back, grounding me so I don’t float away entirely.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, not even trying to hide how wrecked I am.

Hunter huffs a rough laugh, voice even lower than before. “You can say that again,” he says, like a confession.

I lick my lips, tasting the sweet-hot burn he left behind. Man. We need to slow things down a little bit. “We should probably head out for our walk.”

He’s about to say something else, but Buster seizes the opportunity to nose between our legs and sit at Hunter’s feet. Hunter glances down and then back at me, then leans down to attach the new leash with a laugh.

“C’mon,” he says, his gruff voice softening, “let’s walk your anxious pup before he decides to use the hall for his bathroom.”

Hunter reaches for my hand, laces our fingers together, and gives a gentle tug. I follow, dizzy and grinning. Buster leaps ahead, ready for our adventure.

As we walk down the hallway, I glance over at Hunter, the big, grumpy, beautiful man who has completely ruined me for anyone else. His thumb traces lazy circles on my hand, and I swear, for the first time ever, his scowl softens.

Buster loses his mind the second his paws hit the sidewalk. He tries to leap straight into the nearest patch of grass. Hunter grunts but doesn’t let go of my hand. He just tightens his grip as we follow the excited little puppy down the quiet sidewalk.

“Chill, buddy,” he mutters as Buster surges ahead, nose to the ground, ears flapping in the wind. Hunter matches my pace, slow and deliberate, his body radiating warmth.

Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert, and just walking next to Hunter is enough to fry my brain. His fingers are locked with mine, palm callused and warm, and it’s all I can do not to trip over my own feet from how dizzy he makes me. The way he glances at me from the corner of his eye? I actually have to suck in a sharp little breath just to keep my knees from buckling.