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He must notice that I’m staring wide-eyed at him when the waitress leaves our table. He shrugs. “It’s hockey season. This machine needs fuel.” He pats his stomach.
His patting his stomach draws my eyes to his torso. I guess it does make sense that a body like Hunter’s—tall, broad, stacked with muscles upon muscles—needs a lot more food than an average person to function. Especially when he’s playing a physically intense game at least once a week, and probably practicing almost every day.
Silence settles over the table. I ransack my brain thinking of something to say to alleviate it. Unfortunately, theconversations with Hunterfile in my brain only contains snide remarks and sarcastic quips.
It’s Hunter who breaks the silence.
He leans forward over the table, and in a low but casual voice, his blue eyes staring straight into mine, simply says, “I’ll do it if you want.”
My lips pucker, my eyebrows scrunch. “What?”
“I’ll do it.”
“What are you talking about, Hunter?”
Slowly, his lips curl into a smirk, and as the grin gets wider, it becomes more mischievous, until it’s downright devilish. “You don’t remember what you asked me for last night?”
It feels like my stomach turns upside down.
Maybe it wasn’t a dream—maybe I really did ask Hunter to end my dry spell last night. Mortification hits me like a door just opened straight into my face.
But I grasp onto deniability. Maybe he’s talking about something else.
Maybe I asked him to … I don’t know, help me change a lightbulb that’s out of reach. I have absolutely no idea why I’d ask him that because all the lightbulbs in my house work just fine, but I’m flailing to grab onto anything right now.
I shake my head. “Uh, no. What are you talking about?” My voice is low, a secretive whisper. If Hunter’s about to say the thing I so desperately hope he doesn’t, I’ll die on the spot if anyone else overhears it, and there are plenty of people crammed into this snug diner to do so.
There’s a smoldering heat in Hunter’s gaze as he looks at me, and I feel tension tingling all over me, a tightness in my core, and a buzzing between my thighs that has me clenching them together underneath the table.
“You asked me to do what that pathetic ex of yours couldn’t.”
My jaw drops. My nerves flutter, anxiety coiling over every inch of me.
I want to drop down onto the booth, out of Hunter’s burning gaze. I want to roll under the table and hide. But I can’t move anything—especially not my mouth to reply.
Hunter leans closer, and says in a voice so low and ragged that it might as well be a growl, “I’ll take that as a yes?”
“No!” The word leaps from my lips way too loud, loud enough to draw amused and intrigued glances from people seated near us.
Hunter laughs, a low and cocky chuckle. “You sure? The idea seemed very appealing to you last night.”
Heat rushes up from my neck and spreads through my cheeks, and my flush is so hot and strong that I must look like a freaking tomato.
“I can’t believe that really happened. I can’t believe I said those things. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” He leans even closer. I catch a whiff of his masculine scent that makes my core clench tighter, from something more than embarrassment. “And I can promise you one thing. I can give you everything you missed out on with that pathetic ex of yours who couldn’t give a woman the pleasure she deserves. I’d make you come so hard and so many times that you’d forget your own name—but you wouldn’t forget mine, because you’d be screaming it at the top of your lungs.”
Tendrils of heat snake through me. There’s a throbbing ache between my thighs, my heartbeat in my throat. A tingling spreads to my fingertips, and my palms are slick with nervous anticipation.
Hunter’s eyes are still locked on mine, and there’s not a trace of playfulness in them. He’s not joking, he’s not messing with me. Right now, he’s more serious than I’ve ever seen him about anything in the twelve years that we’ve known each other.
Foolishly, I let myself imagine him making good on his promise. I let myself imagine his hands all over me.
I let myself imagine his body, jagged with muscles, hovering over mine.
I let myself imagine his sleek waist settling between my soft thighs.
I let myself imagine his hard cock throbbing, the tip grazing the length of my wet, needy slit while he lines himself up.
