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I tug my arm away from him, or try to. His grip tightens as his gaze holds onto mine. "Were you leaving?" His voice sounds ragged, like he's out of breath.
"Yes. I...need to go."
"Because of me?"
I can't seem to find my voice, so I pull out of his grasp, grabbing the door handle and wrapping my fingers tightly around it. I don’t pull it open. I don’t even turn my face away from his. He’s weary, obviously, but I’m certain he doesn’t want me to go.
I wonder why, and a thought occurs to me that makes my knees quiver. Does he want another romp? My bedazzled mind screams: This is Hunter! Take the chance!
Being this close to him is like stepping onto the surface of a star. I feel like I'm melting. My mind speeds up in time with my racing pulse, and all of a sudden I have to know. "What happened to your back?"
His eyes are still on mine, and I can't breathe as they flicker to my lips.
"I hurt it." The words are warm and gruff, like he's telling me a secret but he's not sure that he wants to. The simple answer surprises me. So does the bare look in his eyes.
"It looks awful," I say bluntly.
He shrugs, but his nonchalance is completely ruined by a wince. I look at his back, through the reflection in the mirror. There are a lot of welts, and they all seem to be about the same size. “Did Priscilla do that?”
"You think I'd let a woman do this to me?" He looks so stern and masculine, I feel stupid for asking such a question. Not my business.
But there's something in his eyes. Something hard, almost a challenge, and I can't help feeling like I'm being warned away.
I suck in a breath, struggling to speak as I try to pull the answer from his eyes. "Did you?"
He’s quiet again, giving me a chance to examine his face. There’s a nasty bruise on his jaw. “This was a choice," he finally says.
A choice? My stomach rolls. "Are you saying that you did that to yourself?"
He reaches for me, grabs my hand, and as he pulls me closer, I know I'm in trouble.
"I'm not saying anything." His free hand comes behind my head, his fingers in my hair as I look into his handsome, bruised face. "You're the one talking."
"About you,” I whisper.
"About me."
"I think you need to be more careful,” I say, throwing what he said at the bar back at him. “I don't want to see you hurt."
His eyes flare, and for a second I think he's going to walk out, but then he groans and pulls me even closer. "You know what hurts?" he grits, his hand splaying over my ass, squeezing as he pushes me against his chest. "This hurts," he says, and I can feel him through my shorts.
He's hard and ready, totally jacked up. For me, I realize. I shock myself by reaching down—I want to touch him—but I stop and hover over his hard, smooth abs. His eyes widen and I feel his hand close over mine. That's all it takes. The world folds in on me, and the small, dim room becomes a fantasy. I'm rubbing my fingers up and down his bulge, amazed by the hard, stiff length of it.
Hunter moans, and I press a little harder. The way he flinches makes me worry I'm hurting him, but he's rocking into my hand like he wants me to press harder. I roll my palm around the round head of him, and he pushes his face into my shoulder. "Christ."
I stroke him up and down, eager to feel all of him.
"Unzip your pants," I say. It sounds unsteady, because I'm trembling.
He looks down at me, his face bent into a question, and I nod, nuzzling his throat as I pant. I'm still aware that this is a terrible idea—I'm going to get hurt; of that I'm sure—but right now, I want to keep his eyes wide and his mouth open, his body curled over mine, his hands clutching my shoulders. Right now, Hunter West is lusting for me hard.
He unzips his slacks and I reach for him, pushing past the elastic of his underpants so I can feel him skin-to-skin. Oh my God, he's hard as steel. So soft—and burning hot. The second that my fingers touch his velvet skin, he gasps and jerks inside my hand. I smooth my fingers down him, feather-light until I reach the base, and then I stroke a little, like I learned today.
He starts to pant, and I stroke up and down again before I tentatively cup my hand and reach lower. I've never fondled anyone's balls before, and I'm loving the shock on Hunter's face as he pulls away to look into my eyes. His are dazed, almost glowing. I can feel his body shaking. His knees are shaking.
"Libby," he groans. "Jesus."
Then he's pulling me against him, pushing my blouse up, shoving my strapless bra away and closing his lips over my breast.
