Page 67
“The lines are blurry as fuck,” he says.
“They are. And if we know what’s good for us, we’d dead this.”
Hunter blinks at me before sitting back and stabbing a hand through his hair. “I know.” His hand slides to the center console, and I lace my fingers through his with no hesitation. Hunter's eyes fall to our joined hands, but I keep my gaze on his face. “You’re the perfect fucking woman.”
“Hardly.” I huff out a chuckle.
“You are.” His seriousness causes my smile to fade. “I need you to make it stop.”
My brows pull together. “Make what stop?”
“Whatever it is that you’re doing to me.”
“You first.”
Hunter slides his hand from mine and laces his fingers at the nape of my neck. My breathing quickens as he draws closer with a firm hold on me. I’m powerless to stop this.
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to want you.”
“Then don’t,” I snap. Does he think I want this? I’m in love with a man who will gladly give me his time, his secrets, his dreams, his money, and that glorious dick of his. Everything but his whole heart.
I pull back, but I’m met with resistance by Hunter’s hand at the nape of my neck. His eyes fall to my mouth, and I bite my lip, turned on and frustrated. But then he takes my mouth, and I give in immediately, kissing him back with everything I have. I groan, savoring the taste and the feel of his silky tongue as it tangles with mine and we pull at each other’s hair.
We said we wouldn’t kiss again. But who were we kidding? This was unavoidable. We are unavoidable—have been since the moment we came back into each other's lives. And I know he’s a heart risk. He’s warned me many times over. Yet here I am, unable to slow down and get off this ride before we crash.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
On the morning of the baby shower, everything goes wrong.
The first three outfits I try on are too tight. If I could get away with wearing a pair of Hunter’s sweats, I would, but the pictures taken of me at our baby shower would haunt me forever. The last dress I try on—a flowy pastel green number I bought on clearance—fits perfectly. I love the way my cleavage looks. I might as well show off before my boobs shrink back down to their normal size.
I give myself a final once-over, checking every angle of my Princess Leia halo braid. I love my final look, especially with my bedazzled Converse. Speaking of my shoes, I could use some help to get them on. After spraying my face with finishing spray, I grab my shoes and go looking for Hunter in this big-ass house.
I eventually find him in the driveway wiping down his Bentley. “There you are.”
He looks up from where he’s leaning over the hood, halting his arm mid-wipe, and drags his gaze all over my body before his eyes settle on my face. He likes what he sees. So do I. I’m picturing him naked right now. I’m just better at hiding it than he is. It comes from weeks of practice.
“You look nice,” he asks, straightening to his six-foot-three height.
“Thanks,” I say, rolling my glossy lips. “I could use your help with my shoes, though.”
His face softens. “Have a seat in the car,” he says, opening the door to the passenger side. He helps me inside, crouching where my feet dangle out of the open door, and takes a shoe from my lap. “I like these.”
“Thanks. I added the jewels myself,” I say. He loosens the laces on each shoe before putting them on my feet. “How long do you think it’ll take us to get there?”
“About thirty minutes,” he says as he laces my shoes.
I wince. “We’re going to be late.”
“Let them wait. This is your day.”
“This is our day.”
The beginnings of a smile touch his lips. “No one’s coming to see me.”
“Most of our guests are your friends.”
My laces are tied, but his hand remains on my ankle, just sort of resting there. “But they’re coming to meet you.”
