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“I see the coffee’s helping.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“We had dinner, and you relaxed in the hot tub.”
I clenched my teeth. “No, I mean, after I straddled you.”
He pushed the last piece of croissant into his mouth. “You know what I miss most about Costa Rica?”
“Is it croissants?”
He finished chewing and swallowed. “Not just croissants. Pastries. All kinds of pastries. French sourdough, muffins, and home-made bread.”
He was torturing me, but I indulged him.
“They don’t have pastries in Costa Rica?” The sooner we were finished talking about food, the sooner I could find out what had happened yesterday.
“Just more difficult to get where I was at.”
“What did you eat?”
“Fish, rice, and fruit. I’d get a juicy steak on the weekends down in the village.”
Why did that sound so primitive in my head: Hunter chewing on meat, working his jaw muscles? A quiver tripped up my back.
“So, about yesterday—”
He slipped his hand underneath the covers and slid his palm over my thigh. His fingers skimmed upward, along the soft skin between my legs as he bent down to my ear.
“What about yesterday?” His steady voice unnerved me, or maybe it was the proximity of his fingers to my ache.
“Seriously, Hunter. What happened? Did we…” I trailed off because I couldn’t ask him whether I’d fucked him. I knew I’d wanted to.
“Grace, you would have remembered if I fucked you.” A current of his breath awakened all the hormones I’d injected in the past two months. My nipples hardened, and hot arousal flew through my veins.
“What if it was me fucking you?” I asked.
His beard tickled my neck. “Keep on dreaming.”
My brows furrowed, and he pulled away.
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“Nearby.”
“Why?”
“You were on the verge of puking your guts out.” He paused. “And I feel better when you’re safe.”
Funny thing was, despite the attack, I did feel safe. Hunter was the one who was throwing me off balance and confusing me. Hunter and wine. I removed my glasses and cleared the fog off the lenses.
I checked the clock. “I slept long.”
“Sleep is energy.”
The vibrating hormones in my body were energizing me enough. I took a seat on the bed. “Put a shirt on, Hunter. Your abs are distracting.”
His lips sloped into a grin before he grabbed a tank top and slipped it over his head. The skin-gripping fabric did little to hide the stacked muscles.
