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I expect him to be annoyed that I’m accusing him of hooking up with other women,again,but instead he looks happy about it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
He leans closer, his hand wrapping around the side of my body, the spot where my skin is exposed in my sports bra and running shorts. His thumb dips under the waistband of my shorts.
“Because I’m going to enjoy fucking that thought right out of your head.”
Despite my desire to appear unaffected by his words, I can’t help the shiver that runs through my body. The way my pussy aches with each slow sweep of his thumb against my belly.
“I told you, I’m a one-woman guy. And right now, you’re the one I want.”
And there it is. The reminder that me and Hunter are temporary. Right now, I’m the one he wants. Who knows how long it will last? A few days? A week? Maybe a month. That’s fine. It’s what I agreed to. While I want to find love someday, I don’t expect it to happen now. It’s not in my five-year plan. And it wouldn’t be Hunter Cartwright, a notorious bachelor thirteen years older than me, even if it was.
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” I say.
“About what?” His confidence doesn’t waver at my flippant attitude.
“Andrew Bachman asked me out on a date.”
The muscle in his jaw tightens. “You said you weren’t looking for a boyfriend.”
I shrug. “He’s offered to show me around the city.”
Hunter lifts his gaze, staring off behind my left shoulder.
“So, let’s go.”
He tugs on my hand, leading me until I fall into a steady jog next to him. Now I’m confused. We run in silence, our heavy breathing muffled slightly by the sounds of the city, the birds chirping and the whooshing noise of a group of roller bladers passing by.
When we get to the south end of the park, I’m expecting that we’ll keep going along the path, but Hunter motions for us to cross at the light onto Sixth Avenue. For blocks, we’re dodging pedestrians and street vendors.
“Where are we going?” I ask, breathless. It’s Sunday morning so not as busy as it would usually be with commuters, but it’s New York. Tourists are determined to get their fill every day of the week.
Hunter finally paces back to take a left on West Fiftieth Street.
“You’ll see,” he says, a smile pulling at his lips.
By the time he stops in front of a building, my leg muscles are burning. It takes me a moment to notice where we are.
Top of the Rock, the engraved sign says.
“You want someone to show you the city?” he asks, clearly proud of himself for locating a tourist site I mentioned yesterday.
“Yeah, but I was hoping for a view from the top.” I nod at the sign with the open hours posted on it. It’s eight forty-seven. The building doesn’t open until ten.
Hunter walks over to the door and taps on it with his knuckles. I want to laugh. What does he think he’s going to do? Ask if they can let us up? His confidence is astounding, but if I’m being honest, it’s kind of hot, too.
There’s probably no one here at this hour, maybe a cleaning person and security, so I’m surprised when a woman in a dress with a nametag opens the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Cartwright.” She beams at us. “We’ve been expecting you.”
* * *
HUNTER
“Thanks, Sharon.” I nod at her before turning to give Sophie a wink.
Her eyes narrow at the smug look on my face. I hold the door open for her to go in, then playfully swat her ass as she passes.
