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But that’s not what this is, though. We agreed it would be casual. Strictly sex, with a side of Hunter showing me around the city. Other than our brief attempt at dry humping, he hasn’t laid a finger on me since we walked—no, he carried me—into this room last night.
“Sophie?”
I look up to find Hunter staring at me.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I nod, hoping the movement will shake loose the emotions that are clawing their way up my throat. “The pancake looks great. Thank you.”
In my effort to pretend like Hunter didn’t just knock the wind out of me, I grab my fork and take a heaping bite of pancake and whipped cream.
“Is there anything you want to do today?” he asks.
“What could I possibly want to do besides imprint my body into that luxurious memory foam mattress until it’s time to check out?”
Hunter chuckles and reaches out to wipe the excess whipped cream off the corner of my mouth. His touch sets off a rush of need in my body. A need to be close to him. I set my fork down and move to climb into his lap.
“Are you done eating?” His hands slide up my thighs and wrap around my hips until he’s gripping my ass.
“No. I just like this seat better,” I say, settling in before I turn to reach for the slice of bacon off my pancake and take a bite.
Keeping one arm around my back, Hunter reaches around me to fork another bite of his omelet. When he does it a second time, he offers it to me.
I shake my head and scrunch up my nose. “No thanks.”
“You’re missing out.”
“Yeah, I’m okay with that.”
When he laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkles and my heart stops at the sight of him.
I want to ask him what we’re doing here. Is this just another stop on the Hunter Cartwright New York City sightseeing tour?
He reaches for another bite, but I practically knock the fork out of his hand before pulling his face to mine. His hands cradle my head as our kiss turns white hot. With impatient hands, we pull at each other’s clothes, and Hunter stands to carry me to the bed. A minute later, we’ve shed our clothes and Hunter’s ripping open a condom.
I need him inside me now. I need to remind myself what we’re doing here.
When he pushes inside me, I feel the tears gather at the corner of my eyes. Not because it hurts, but because the feeling is absolutely perfect.
I close my eyes and will the liquid to evaporate. Just like I urge the knot in my chest to untangle. With every steady rock of Hunter’s hips, every caress of his hand against my cheek, I feel like I’m going to break.
I press my palms to his chest. Without me saying the words, he already knows what it means. He flips us so he’s now on his back, his hands gripping my hips as I straddle him. When I’m on top, I feel more in control. I can close my eyes and chase my orgasm without feeling like Hunter’s closeness is about to swallow me whole. Up here I can’t feel his heartbeat against my chest, and I can pretend like mine isn’t setting its rhythm to his.
When my orgasm hits, I tilt my head up to the ceiling and cry out. A moment later, I can feel Hunter pulsing inside me.
I lower my gaze to find Hunter’s indigo eyes staring up at me. His hand lifts to cup my cheek as his thumb traces over my lips.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
He says it so reverently I can feel those unshed tears pooling above my lash line again.
“Thank you.” It’s all I can manage as I reach for my sweatshirt. I give him a quick kiss before dismounting and rushing to the bathroom to clean up.
I pee, then wash my hands. When I glance in the mirror, I’m horrified at how disheveled I look. Messy tangled hair and chapped lips. The dark circles under my eyes don’t disappear even after I’ve wiped my mascara off.
You’re beautiful.That’s what Hunter had said. He might need to get his eyes checked.
“Do you wear contacts or glasses?” I ask, exiting the bathroom after I’ve attempted to tame my wild hair. The rest can’t be helped until I shower and I’m not in the mood for that yet. I still want to eat my pancake.
