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“Is it the Ghost of Port-a-john-past you’re afraid of then?”
“Aw, woman.” He teased me tickling my ribs.
I tweaked his chin, and he tried to nip me with his teeth. “So where are we going?”
“My house. My bed.” Yeah, Hunter wasn’t a control freak or anything. This demand left me shivering and damp in places down below.
“Glad that was easy to decide.”
“You weren’t planning to go to your house, were you?” he joked.
“Uh, no, my dad is home. God, that makes me feel like a teenager in trouble.”
Hunter walked me out of the house and carried me to his truck. “I told you I’d make it magical. I’m not about to back down on that.”
I’d be lying to myself if I wasn’t just a little more than nervous…
22
Taylor Jane
Hunter was lucky he didn’t get pulled over driving across town to his house, breaking several speed limits on the way. I would have been mortified if Officer Rooney pulled us over given the history of our little social circle. I had visions of frantic and inappropriate text messages from Kristen. Damien would have been hot on her heels banging on Hunter’s door. I loved my friends, but I waited a decade for this one selfish moment. I wanted Hunter to myself without the world barging in.
Hunter pulled into his driveway turning the truck key as gravel kicked up, and wheels halted in front of his garage. Afraid to move, we sat in silence with heartbeats humming and the widows fogging. The neatly manicured lawn was visible outside the bubble of the truck, but nothing felt tidy and in control. Flowers poked up from a bed of mulch and a tree branch hung low needing a trim. Controlling how we felt about each other was as lost a cause as expecting nature to cease growing simply because Hunter clipped and groomed it.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know that, right?” Hunter cupped my chin, pulling me in close for another scorching kiss.
“I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”
“And I would keep waiting if you asked me to.” Hunter dropped a peck of a kiss on my lips as our eyes regarded each other.
“Lucky for you I’m not going to ask.” I unclicked my seatbelt and nudged him to get out of the truck.
“I figured you would say that.” Hunter hopped out of the truck coming to my side. He opened the door like a gentleman, took my hand, and walked me inside. He didn’t bother to turn any lights on in the house and headed straight to the bedroom.
It wasn’t nerves that had me trembling with anxiety when Hunter dumped his wallet on the dresser, toed his boots off and pulled his shirt off one handed, dropping it to the floor. I backed up, feeling my legs hit the edge of his bed watching him stalk me bare chested, all alpha male, his jeans hung low. He tugged my shirt up and over my head quickly, but stopped to look me over. Smiling, his hands grazed my skin reaching around to unhook my bra letting the cups slip off my heavy breasts, the cotton and lace falling to the hardwood floor of his bedroom.
It wasn’t nerves when he slipped his fingers inside the band of my jean shorts undoing the button, sliding them down my legs, in a slow, slow move that would rival the speed of molasses, his eyes never leaving mine as his knees touched the floor. Leaving my plain cotton underwear on, he kissed the soft spot below my bellybutton, his lips lingering as I braced my hands on his thick shoulders.
I definitely wasn’t shaking in my boots with nerves when he unlaced and tugged them off, tossing them. Pulling each sock off my foot popping the cotton over his shoulder into a heap behind him didn’t change anything either. I felt like a switch had been flipped and I was a single electrical current, waiting to be tapped by Hunter Hart.
Kneeling on the floor, he looked up tracing the goose bumps on my skin. He dragged his hands against my body from my thighs past my ribs. Hot and a little rough, he palmed my breasts for the second time and pinched the buds of my nipples detonating my need for him.
“Hunter, please don’t make me wait.” I didn’t think about sex when I was fourteen, maybe not until seventeen or so when I had a better understanding of what that actually meant. Still, ten years was a long time to fantasize, to want him, his attention, and his desire for my own. So much so that the thought of going a minute longer made me whimper, soaking the last article of clothing I had left.
“Hush, woman. Stop rushing me.” Hunter crowded me in so I had nowhere to go and nowhere else I wanted to be. He picked me up and tossed me gently on the bed so I bounced back into the comforter, which cooled my skin and braced me from flopping anywhere else.
The last time I was in this bed I was drunk and Hunter spooned me in my sleep. I wanted that part again no matter what else we did tonight.
“Hunter, will you….” We were eye to eye as he crawled up the bed caging me in, a hand brushing my hair back out of my face.
“Ask me anything and it’s yours.”
“Will you hold me, after? Like you did last time, except I’m not drunk and—”
“Shhhh. I think I can handle that.” Hunter finished his sentence by sucking on my neck and made his way down to my aching breasts. My nipples were cold in the room, air conditioning hummed in the background, and the buzzing sound went straight to my clit. I gasped from the burn of his hot mouth and swirling tongue over the bud so tight it hurt from pleasure.
“I want, I want, I want….” I wanted him so bad the words didn’t come.
