His laugh rumbles through his chest. “I promise.”
I pour him a glass of whiskey and hand him the remote to choose whatever he wants to watch. “It’s no Bushmills, but it’s all I’ve got.”
We clink glasses while the oven heats up.
“Who’s this?” Hunter asks, drawing my attention to the hallway coming from my room.
Mittens is walking into the kitchen. His tiny paws strut in a determined manner, as he seems eager to see who the intruder of his domestic domain is.
“Hunter, this is Mittens,” I introduce the two as Hunter kneels down to the ground, where the cat stands. To my surprise, Mittens doesn’t scurry off like he usually does when someone other than me approaches him. “You probably shouldn’t do that. He doesn’t like people.”
With his eyes level with Mittens, Hunter speaks rather frankly to my cat, “Hello, Mittens. I’m Hunter. I heard you’re a rescue. Kinda like me. I was a lost cause before Katie here straightened me up. Now, I hope you don’t mind me hanging out with her, but you see, I happen to think your mom is really pretty, and I kind of got my ass kicked today. So, how about you and I have a man-to-man agreement that we’re cool with sharing her for the night? Sound good?”
With his beady eyes half-hooded, Mittens growls from in his throat and then turns his head away from Hunter, who rises to a standing position.
“I don’t think that went very well,” Hunter explains.
As if to prove his point, Mittens walks over to Hunter’s sneaker on the ground and coughs loudly, as if spitting up a hairball. Then, he saunters into my room with his tail waving in the air like he just doesn’t care.
“Yeah, your cat’s a dick.”
I can only nod. “Yeah, I’ve been told that before. He’ll come around.” I shrug so he knows there’s nothing I can do about it.
Since we just got back from the gym, I take a quick shower, coming out with my wet hair combed through. I slide on a new pair of yoga pants and a tank top as I head to the kitchen to put the pizzas in.
Hunter goes next, his foot seeming better than it was when we got here. I take a seat and sip my whiskey.
When he comes out, he’s wearing nothing but his basketball shorts.
His chest is broad and glistening from the moisture, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a rogue drop of water still dripping down his chest and over the ripples of his abdomen, disappearing down the V that leads under his low-hung shorts.
I gulp down my whiskey as he looks back at me with darkened eyes. He brushes his hair back, the tendrils curling at the ends. I’ve had this man. I had carnal sex with him in front of a fire. I know what it feels like to come undone from his mouth. I know what it feels like to have his ass in my palms. And yet I’m staring at him like I’m dying to know what it would be like to see him naked for the first time.
I pop off the couch and take a much-needed breather. It could be the endorphins from working out earlier, the whiskey going to my head, or just the fact that Hunter is so damn sexy that it should be illegal, but I’m really hot and bothered right now.
I focus my energy on getting the pizzas out of the oven.
Since I don’t have a kitchen table of any sort, I walk the plates into the living room and place them on the coffee table. It’s dark outside now, so Hunter plugs in my tree. The lights cast a sweet glow over the room. I’m going to miss it when I have to take it down next week.
He makes room for me on the couch instead of having me sit on the chair next to him. He clicks on Nightly Pop on E!, and surprisingly, it’s exactly what I would have chosen. I kick my feet up and take a bite of the pizza as we both laugh at the same joke.
“I’m surprised you watch this,” I say. It’s become my guilty pleasure and the only show I look forward to.
“Morgan Stewart is hot. That’s why I started watching. But I’ve gotten to enjoy it beyond just seeing her.”
I roll my eyes at his total guy comment.
He sits up to see me better. “What? You don’t think Hunter March is good-looking?” he asks about the other cohost.
I smile at him, more playful than not. “I like his name more than anything.”
“Ha-ha.” He takes another bite, turning his attention back to the screen.
Once we’re done eating, the show is over, and I get up to put our plates in the kitchen.
“Here, let me help you.” Hunter moves to sit up.
I place my hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. “You don’t move. I got this. You’ve put too much weight on that ankle already.”
He gives in and checks on his ankle.
“How is it?” I ask when I come back into the room.
He circles it around. “I think it’s going to be okay.” He scoots on the couch, so he’s on the edge, and then he stands up.
I head toward the kitchen to refill my drink and grab the plate of cheesecake. When I return, he’s staring at the other side of my apartment, where my bedroom door is.
I hand him the plate with a fork balancing on the end. He doesn’t waste any time in diving in. The way the food enters his mouth is sinful to watch. He French-kisses it and lets his tongue glide along the bottom of the fork as he savors every bite.
He groans, “Better than sex.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I beam.
“Except with you.” His brow quirks as he takes another bite and does that sexy licking thing.
I take a sip of my whiskey. As the drink burns my throat in the best way, I let out a shaky breath.
“You’re nervous,” he says.
“Not for the reason you probably think.”
I lean over to place my glass on the table and end up setting it down on top of a magazine, spilling a little bit before I set it upright. Getting up, I head to the kitchen to get a towel from the drawer. When I take it out and turn around, Hunter’s there with me.
He moves closer, placing his finger under my chin and forcing my head up to look into his eyes, and steps toward me. As my back becomes flush against the counter, he pushes his weight into me. Then, he lifts my body up and sets me on the cold surface. My legs part, and he settles himself in between my thighs, his firm groin hard against my yoga pants. I want to yank off the thin fabric between us and feel more of him.
All of him.
“You make me nervous, too, Katie,” he says. His lips are just millimeters from mine. “In the best fucking way.”
His fingers glide over my lips before he leans in to kiss me, diving deeper in a matter of seconds.
I wrap my legs around his ass and pull him in. His hands glide over my breasts, and I let out a moan that’s way too loud for him barely touching me.
Hunter lays his forehead against mine. Our breaths are ragged.
“What are you doing to me, Katie?” he asks, almost pained.
“I should ask you the same thing,” I whisper. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”
“It’s bad. Nothing that feels this good can be right,” he says, his hand holding the side of my face.
I want to laugh at his line, but I don’t because he’s dead serious. “Why do you say that?” I ask in earnest.
He swallows, and his jaw tightens. “Because I’m not the man you originally wanted. I want you to want me more than you want him.”