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“No? You sure?” I ask, sarcasm ringing through my voice. I snatch the bottles out of her bag. “What’s this? Riluzole? Antidepressant meds and Tramadol, and a couple others I can’t even fucking pronounce? Don’t tell me this is nothing.”
She grabs her purse and pushes the pill bottles back in before she stands, slapping my arms away. “Do not tell me you know! Because you don’t. You don’t know shit!” She screams the words right in my face. But she doesn’t sound angry; she sounds scared.
After flicking my cigarette away, I grab her arms and pull her against my chest. She tries to push me away but I’m too strong. I stand and shove her against me so she knows what she does to me. Her eyes go big when I press my hard-on against her stomach.
“Hunter, don’t make me,” she pleads, focusing on the ground. “I can’t tell you, it would …” She shakes her head. I sigh, and before I know it my nose is in her hair, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of her shampoo.
“If you’re not going to let me in,” I whisper in her ear. “Then let me kiss you,” I say pushing her against the railing of the porch.
Her head falls to the side when I kiss her throat, and she groans, her hands disappearing into my hair.
“Take me to your room,” I order. I need her. I need to feel something other than anger, other than rage. I pick her up, and she drapes her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist, and I smash my mouth against hers before I carry her upstairs.
Sky
My emotions are all over the place as he places me gently on my bed. Tension still radiates from his body. I don’t know why it even turns me on—it shouldn’t, but I know he would never hurt me. Not like I’m hurting him right now.
I follow the line of a big scar on his rib cage below his abs. Hunter pulls away from me when I let my fingers skim over the red line. “What happened there?”
“Nothing,” he grunts.
I shake my head. “My shirt isn’t coming off till you tell me.”
He cracks his knuckles, and his eyes narrow on me. “Is that so?” he asks, with humor in his voice.
I nod, smiling, and I relax instantly. “Well?”
“I ran into a knife on the streets,” he drawls, running his fingers over the scar.
I can’t breathe. “A knife?”
He focuses on his tattooed hands. “You should see the other guy.” He grins, tracing my chin with his thumb.
“This is not a joke, Hunter,” I warn him. “A knife?”
He shakes his head. “No shit,” he mutters, the muscles in his jaw twitching like he’s debating whether to tell me more or not. Stalling, he scratches the side of his shaved head. “I’m not getting any before I tell you, am I?”
I nod. “No way.”
The bulge in his jeans seems to grow. Smiling a little, and focusing on his lips, I suppress a groan.
“Damn, okay. Scoot over.” His voice is hoarse as he adjusts himself.
I sit against the pillows. He lies beside me, putting his hand under his head.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, brushing his long hair behind his ear.
“Everything,” I tell him. “How did you get stabbed?”
He shrugs like it was nothing. “I was high as a kite, and me and some guys were hanging at Venice Beach. I got into a stupid argument with some asshole who usually dealt there. There was this huge fight and when I tried to protect one of my friends from the fucker’s switchblade, I woke up in the hospital the next day tied to a fucking bed because I was coming down from all the drugs I had in my system.”
“That’s not all, is it?”
He gives me a sad smile, and says, “You don’t want to know everything. Hell, even I don’t want to remember.”
“Come on, Hunter.”
He sighs, putting both his hands behind his head again. “I bounced around between my uncle and the streets until I came to live full-time here with Jay. Damn he’s a good guy, took a lot of my fucking shit back then.”
