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“Do what?”
“Last chance,” Hunter warned. “Come with me.”
“Pass.”
I took two steps before Hunter grabbed my wrist and ducked his shoulder beneath my waist. He tossed me into a fireman’s grip so quickly, the garage blurred until the ground crystalized beneath his feet.
“Put me down!” I punched his back, but he didn’t even give a hint of exertion as he opened the door and brought me into his kitchen.
Where he set me down on the center island’s cold marble countertop, standing between my legs and slamming his palms on either side of me, caging me in.
His body pressed against my inner thighs, an intimate touch that sent a jolt of desire to my core. Every nerve in my body seemed to come alive, tingling with an intoxicating mix of longing and passion. The gnawing sensation deepened within me, and the harder I pushed it away, the more intense the hunger grew.
His attire wasn’t helping: a pair of cotton pants that hugged his waist in all the right areas and a gray T-shirt that battled with his muscles.
But I forced my mind to hold on to the anger—anger was my only hope at stopping myself from pulling his mouth to mine.
“This is what’s going to happen…” Hunter said.
“Let me stop you right there.” I pushed my palms against his chest. But it was like trying to shove a wall, and it had the irritating side effect of noticing how deliciously firm his muscles were. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I won’t allow you to get yourself killed, Luna.”
Allow. There was that word again. The guy needed a thesaurus.
And get myself killed? What the heck? Like all this wasmyfault?
Maybe I wasn’t handling the situation perfectly. But you know what? Neither was Hunter. He chastised rather than offering comfort. He demanded rather than requesting. What we needed was a playbook for the perfect ways to respond to situations such as this.
All I knew was that I was handling things the best way I could. And what Hunter needed to understand was that I refused to run and hide in fear of Franco or give up my life’s purpose by caving to a stranger’s demands. I would not hand over control of my life to anyone.
But Hunter just didn’t seem to get it, acting like I brought this on myself, as if I deserved it.
And that made a lump grow in my throat.
“You know some people?” My voice quivered. “When they find out someone was almost killed, their reaction is very different. They wrap them in their arms and ask if they’re okay. They don’t yell at them and try to make them feel like it’s their fault.”
I hated that tears burned my eyes and broke over my cheeks.
This was humiliating. The whole thing. The almost dying. The not-my-greatest decision of all time to go to the prison alone. The fact that I was scared. Having to call Hunter to come help me.
And most of all, having him look down on me.
Just like everyone had looked down on me and my family my whole life, living in the stain of my dad’s supposed crime.
Hunter let out a long breath, his features melting into regret, and gently cupped my cheek. His hand was huge and warm and surprisingly tender as he trailed the pad of his thumb along my skin.
His touch instantly cooled my burning anger, and his eyes locked on to mine, a raw intensity shimmering within them that mirrored my deep longing to feel his arms wrap around me.
“I’m sorry.” Hunter’s voice was low with a tempo of guilt softening its tone. “For being an asshole.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Part of me still wanted to storm out of his kitchen while another part swallowed the thickness lingering in my throat. But at least we were out of the tornado of anger that had taken over us.
Through my haze of tears, I met his gaze. The fever in his eyes burned like a live ember, and as they lowered to my lips, a warm yearning spread through my stomach. His stare trailed back up while his thumb tenderly caressed my cheekbone.
“When I realized someone almost killed you, it…infuriated me.” The heat in his voice only added to the simmering tension between us.
His thumb grazed a sultry line along my jaw, sending waves of heat down my spine. “But I misplaced my anger.” His eyes searched mine for understanding. “I’m sorry.”
