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I bumped him with my shoulder. “How was work this morning? And last night? What kept you away from our bed?”
What kept you away from me?
“Well, at first it was something stupid.” He laughed. “I was watching videos on how to ride a motorcycle. Those videos led to me seeing something that I didn’t like in one of them. Then I kind of went down a rabbit hole and got a man’s abused wife away from him. I sent her a message through her private messenger account of a place that would help her if she thought she needed it. Then I deleted that message. Then spent thirty more minutes looking at cat videos. Then I…”
He spoke about his night as I ate, and by the time that I was finished with my sandwich, honey mustard on my fingers and dripping down my palm, he was still going strong.
“…then I went back to something that Lynn has me working on because I had an epiphany about something. Then your aunt logged onto one of her accounts, which is cleverly not under her own name, and finally clued me into where she was hiding it. It was the biggest one yet. So, I spent some time on that.” His mouth continued. “I took that…”
He trailed off when I started to lick the honey mustard off of my fingers, one drip at a time.
“You’re kind of a mess,” he teased, pulling my fingers toward him and sucking them into his mouth.
One by one.
Each time he took a finger into his hot mouth, my insides would clench.
When he got to my palm and licked that up, too, I was panting.
He finally let me go, his eyes on my hand.
“I should’ve made sure that you washed your hands,” he joked.
I rolled my eyes. “My hands are clean as fuck.”
He grinned. “That’s my favorite unit of measurement.”
Giggling, I wiped my hand down with an alcohol wipe I produced from my pocket.
Not that I minded him on my skin, but they were still sticky, and I was trying to distract myself from climbing into his lap and kissing the holy hell out of him.
That would likely be inappropriate at work. Especially in this particular garden in the middle of the hospital where every single hallway had a view of it.
“You have quite a commute to work,” he said as he started to gather his trash. “I guess I didn’t realize how far away Longview is from home.”
An hour.
“No wonder you have to leave so early,” he continued as he stood up and walked his trash over to the trash can. “I’m going to do a bit of grocery shopping tonight, and I want to look at houses with you as well.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I want to look at houses with you,” he continued. “I want one that you’ll love. One that we’ve picked out together.” He paused. “Unless you want to build, because I’m okay with that, too.”
Build.
Houses together.
That sounded pretty darn final.
And permanent.
It made me want to scream in glee.
“Okay.” I paused. “But honestly, I’m okay with the commute. It gives me a chance to listen to audiobooks. I have a couple of irrational attachments to a few audio book narrators.”
His eyes narrowed as he turned back from the trash can. “Men or women?”
I grinned. “Men. I like all the deep growly ‘fucks’ they say. You’d be really good at it.”
He snorted out a laugh. “Reading aloud is a nightmare for me. I read but end up skipping words. Don’t pause long enough on periods. Things like that. I would make a terrible narrator.”
I searched for the fork so I could eat the cake but came up empty.
“There a fork in that bag?” I asked curiously, jerking my chin in the direction of the bag he’d just thrown away.
“Probably.” He paused. “But I shoved it down in there hard and heard something plastic snap. Likely, it’s broken. But I shoved it into a pile of what looked like old pizza. I’m not touching that bag with a ten-foot pole.”
I eyed the cake.
Popping the top open, I reached in with my fingers and broke a piece off.
Luckily, since the slice was still slightly cold, it broke off easily in my hands and managed to stay in one piece while I did.
So that was the way I ended up feeding myself with my fingers while Hunt watched.
“You’re slowly killing me,” he grumbled when I finished.
When I went to suck my fingers into my mouth, he caught my hand and did it himself again.
“Yum.” He winked. “My favorite. Chocolate cake with the hint of alcohol.”
I giggled.
Sadly, I’d already had more than my allotted ten minutes for a lunch break—hell, I was lucky to even get that without an interruption since we were so short staffed—and I needed to go.
“Thank you for lunch, Hunt,” I said softly, looking up into his eyes.
