His brow furrows a bit, but he nods his agreement.
“Do you have any lingering feelings for Valerie? I don’t just mean romantic feelings. I mean any fondness whatsoever.”
“No,” he says, without hesitation.
“Did your Gatsby paper have anything to do with her?”
His frown deepens. His confusion does more to ease my mind than anything—he doesn’t have a single clue what I’m talking about. “My Gatsby paper?”
“You said you’re her Daisy, and you made such a passionate argument about Gatsby pulling his head out of his ass and finding someone else to love. I know it’s… maybe a little mean, but honestly, after the way she has treated me, I don’t care. If you’re going to be mine, I have to know… Do you think about her happiness? Do you want her to move on from you so she’ll leave you alone, or because you want better for her than unrequited interest in you?”
Hunter stares at me so hard for so long, my nerves begin to strangle me. I almost wish I hadn’t asked this question. For all that Hunter can be a jerk sometimes, he can also be deeply caring. If he cares about Valerie even a little bit… that’s too much for me.
“Riley… let me explain something to you.”
My heart thuds with dread. Is he really going to drag this out? I’m dying here. I just want him to answer my question so I know one way or the other.
He lifts my hand and settles it in his, then he locks our fingers together and looks into my eyes. “Imagine Valerie Johnson is on fire. Literally being consumed by flames. She’s screaming in torment, her cries for help hurt your ears. You’re standing right next to her in perfect health, but feeling mildly thirsty. I happen to be in possession of the only glass of water in the world.” He gives me a look as if to say, are you following me? “I walk right past her to give you the water, because I care more about quenching your thirst than saving her life.”
My eyes widen in horrified delight.
He lifts my hand and kisses it, still holding my gaze. “I don’t give a single fuck about Valerie Johnson. I only care about you.”
That might be the most twisted thing that has ever turned a person on, but my heart fills to bursting, and all I want to do is get as close to him as humanly possible.
Hunter looks mildly surprised as I mount him, leaning in to kiss him and reaching down to rub his dick.
“Whoa,” he murmurs against my lips, but his surprise doesn’t inhibit his enthusiasm. He locks a muscular arm around me, grabbing my hips and positioning me where he wants me. Amusement lightens his tone as he asks, “I take it that was the right answer?”
Eyes closed, I sigh against his mouth. “Above and beyond the right answer. Get your cock inside me now, please.”
“Well, since you said please,” he teases against my lips, reaching down to guide himself between my thighs.
Sighing with pleasure as he sinks inside me, I lock my arms around his strong shoulders like I’ll never let go.
And maybe, just maybe…
I never will.
Chapter Sixty Two
Riley
Standing beside me in the juice aisle at the grocery store, Mom eyes me suspiciously. “Why are you buying cranberry juice?”
I grab a big container of it off the shelf and put it in our shopping cart. “If I say it’s because I wanna try a vodka cranberry, will you believe me?”
“I would prefer to believe that than the alternative.” She looks over at me, cocking an eyebrow. “You know the last time I bought cranberry juice?”
“I remember. You had just started dating Ray. So if you’re about to say something dirty…”
Mom sighs, wrinkling up her nose. “You’re trying to ward off a UTI. You and Hunter must have had some Friday night.”
“Yes, we had lots and lots of sex. There. Are you happy?” I shake my head, stopping to grab a case full of bottled waters. “Why can’t you be normal?” I ask as I lug the water over and shove it under the cart.
Mom beams at me. “You love me just the way I am.”
I stand and look at her. “You’re right, I do.” Wanting to redirect away from the subject of my sex life, I ask, “What’s next on the grocery list?”
Mom scans it. “I think we got everything.” She looks up at me. “You know, I realize this isn’t super romantic to think about, but even though you are on birth control now, it would probably be a good idea to make him use condoms. Assuming he didn’t live like a monk while he was away… he could still give you something.”
“He’s clean,” I assure her
“And what if the birth control failed? If you take antibiotics, that can throw everything off. No form of birth control is perfect except abstinence, and the cranberry juice in the cart tells me that’s not likely.”
“The cranberry juice is correct.”
“If you want, we can run over to the family planning aisle and grab a pack while we’re here. My treat,” she offers.
I shake my head. “Thank you, but no. Hunter hates condoms.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, most men do. You know what they hate more? Accidentally knocking up their girlfriends.”
I remain firm. “I’m on birth control. I’m not taking any antibiotics. We don’t need condoms.” Looking back over my shoulder, I tell her, “I do need to do a little more shopping, though. After we take this stuff home, do you want to go with me to pick out a dress?”
“Ooh, what kind of dress?”
“I need a pretty blue ballgown.”
“It has to be blue?”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be, but Hunter requested blue. It’s his favorite color, he really likes me in it. And it has to be a really nice gown, nothing cheap-looking. I have Hunter’s credit card, so price doesn’t matter. Maybe we could go to Nordstrom?” I suggest.
“Why do you need a ballgown? Oh, for winter formal?” she realizes.
“Not exactly.”
As we walk toward the checkout, I explain that Hunter’s dad is throwing a ball in New York close to Christmas, and Hunter really wants me to go so that I can meet him.
Mom stares at me hard. “He wants to take you to a ball?”
I nod.
“Like you’re Cinderella?”
“I believe there will be fewer pumpkin carriages and hopefully no evil stepmothers, but otherwise, yes.”
Mom sighs heavily. “Does this kid not understand you’re still in high school? He can take you to winter formal, but he’s not supposed to whisk you off to New York for a royal ball. That’s… I wasn’t prepared for that.”
I crack a smile. “I wasn’t either, but life is different for him. We’ll only be gone for the weekend,” I assure her.
She pouts a little. “Only the weekend, she says. This ‘you growing up’ thing is terrible. I want you to stay with me forever. You won’t miss Christmas if you go, right?”
“No, we’ll definitely be home for Christmas. And, actually, speaking of Christmas, I want to make sure we include Hunter in all our festivities this year. He doesn’t think his mom will be back for it. I guess she’s totally wrapped up in this guy she’s seeing, and I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone for Christmas.”