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I spun around in Hunter’s grip and kissed him.

He tensed up for a second, but then he let out a groan and kissed me back. He wrapped his arms around me, dragging me closer. A needy sound escaped me as his mouth opened against mine, but it was swallowed up in the kiss. His tongue caressed mine and we kissed hot and dirty until he pulled back, his eyes wide and his breathing ragged. Then he buried his face in the curve of my neck and let out another groan that was part lust, part frustration, before lifting his head. “This is such a bad idea, Luke.”

“Is it, if we’re both into it?” I asked, holding his gaze.

Hunter ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in messy blond spikes. “It’s not exactly professional.”

I let my gaze flick to the obvious bulge in the front of his sweats and remembered my earlier ridiculous idea—only now it didn’t seem so far-fetched after all.

And I knew what I wanted and it seemed like Hunter wanted it too, so it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Okay, but what if it was? Professional, I mean.”

Hunter’s brow creased.

“What if—” I searched for the right words and ended up almost tripping over them in my eagerness to get them out. “What if you were my crunchy leaf?”

CHAPTER 8

HUNTER

What?

I stared stupidly at Luke, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

It didn’t help that my dick was taking most of my attention, throbbing to remind me that it was hard, asking what had happened to the kissing, and enquiring if there would be any more.

No, I told it.

Luke was still staring at me, wide-eyed and gorgeous.

Are you sure about that? my dick whispered, because it was a treacherous little shit.

“You want me to be your what?”

“Hear me out, okay?” Luke said. “When we were at the park the other day, I got up and down the ramp because I was super distracted by that leaf.”

I nodded. Like there was any way I’d forget the sight of Luke chasing that leaf like an overgrown pup. His enthusiasm had been adorable, and I’d had to fight the urge to scratch him behind the ears.

“Okay, so, I was talking to my mom, and she suggested I needed to find something to focus on just like I focused on that leaf. Something that really holds my… attention.” He cupped his hard dick. “And the only other times I’ve made progress have been when I was distracted by you. Like, when we were jerking off the other night, I had zero problems moving my hips, because I was in your lap. And I’m pretty sure I only made it up the stairs just now because I was so distracted by trying not to pop a boner from you being all sexy and hot in my personal space and having your hands all over me. Soooo, what if you fucked me as therapy?”

A high-pitched buzzing filled my skull.

My first thought was absolutely not. It was ridiculous.

My second thought, though?

Holy shit, that might actually work.

Sex as therapy was the worst idea I’d ever heard, while somehow also being the best.

Because Luke was right. The way his hips had rolled when he’d been in my lap had been smooth and sure, with nothing uncertain about his movements at all.

And I’d always been taught that you should pay attention to your second thoughts—especially if those thoughts meant getting to fuck a smoking hot guy.

I dragged in a breath, filling lungs that suddenly seemed too small to hold the air that I needed. I couldn’t seriously be considering this—could I?

Yes, my dick insisted. Yes, yes, yes.