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He smiled and caught her wrist. “Are you going to tell me your story?”
Her heart stepped up. Was he talking about Chris? Had he guessed about the Elemental stuff somehow, in their talk about accidents and car crashes?
Hunter reached out to rest his palm against her face, his thumb sliding along her cheekbone until his fingers trailed in her hair. “You know there’s ... talk. About you.” He paused. “Around school.”
Oh. That.
She ducked away. “Yeah, well—”
Hunter caught her chin. “I don’t believe it.”
She almost pushed free of him. “Well, don’t do me any favors.”
“Hey.” One hand secured her wrist, the other holding her face, reminding her how strong he was. “That right there is why I don’t believe it. Any girl who wanted to sleep with half the school wouldn’t pull away when I touch her.”
She couldn’t look at him. “Leave it. It doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t move, but his voice became very careful. “Does it bother you when I touch you?”
“Stop it.” She glared at him, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “I’m not a victim.”
“Does it?” He didn’t look away.
Her breathing felt too quick, and she didn’t like the way all that heavy emotion had somehow shifted into her. “Do what you want, Hunter.”
He shook his head, very slightly. “What do you want, Becca?”
She wished everything could stand still, that everything could be as simple as his fingers on her wrist, his palm against her cheek.
Hunter shifted on the couch until he had to duck his head to speak to her. She heard her breath tremble in the space between their bodies.
“Do you want me to let you go?” he said.
She shook her head and had to shut her eyes.
He did anyway, releasing her wrist so his hands could touch her face. He traced the shape of her eyes, the arch of her cheekbone, the line of her jaw. His touch was light, reverent almost.
“Is this okay?” he said.
Her traitorous body warmed to his voice, seeking his touch. She opened her eyes. “I’m not broken.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not.” But it sounded halfhearted, even to her.
“I’d be more inclined to believe you”—Hunter’s head moved close, until his lips brushed her cheek while he spoke—“if you’d give me a straight answer.”
“It’s okay.” She wet her lips, feeling lightheaded. “It’s okay—you touching me.”
He traced a thumb across the edge of her mouth, and she felt him smile against her cheek. “Just okay?”
“Why?” she said carefully, because teasing felt precarious. “You think you can do better?”
He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, just for a heartbeat, maybe a moment more. His mouth felt warm and dry, very sure. He only drew back an inch, weighing her reaction.
Becca held still, not trusting herself.
Hunter kissed her again, this time lingering just a bit, giving her a chance to respond. Her lips parted, but he kept the kiss chaste, butterfly touches of his mouth against hers.
