And my God, I want to do it again and again with him. Everything.
I rinse my hand, then grab his beautiful face and kiss him. He’s panting, breathing hard, but he reciprocates, kissing me, gentle and slow. It’s a dizzying kiss since I’m still floating on an orgasm high, my veins humming with bliss.
When he pulls away, his lush lips curve into a grin. “Yes, you’re very good with your hands.” He lifts my hand, brings it to his mouth, and presses a kiss on my palm. Wow. I don’t think anyone has ever kissed my hand like that. Or that I’d like it so much. But I do. Especially when he adds, “And I see what you mean about the bonus.”
I laugh. “Glad you enjoyed all my features.”
“I did. And here’s one of mine.” Hunter reaches for the shampoo, spins me around, and then washes my hair. And wow.
Holy wow.
That is just . . .
I can feel the words forming on my tongue.
That was amazing.
This is amazing.
You’re amazing.
Let’s do this again.
I’ve got to get a grip. To play it cool even as he lathers my hair, even as I hum in appreciation, even as his fingers massage my scalp. “Lean your head back,” Hunter says, and I do as asked, letting the water sluice down my body.
Next, he grabs the body wash, pours some in his hands, and slides those palms along my arms. “You feel spectacular,” he whispers, then bites my earlobe.
Funny, I feel pretty spectacular right now with the way he’s treating me, taking care of me all over.
So spectacular that I nearly forget my mission—be more chill.
Somehow, I find the will to resist asking him if I can take him out to dinner tonight and spend the whole fucking weekend with him.
Instead, I say, “Wanna watch some Webflix and chill while I wash the fuck out of your shirt?”
Hunter drops a kiss to my lips. “That sounds like a perfect evening.”
It sure does.
7
HUNTER
Nate points to a new icon as we lounge on the comfy couch, flicking through the streaming options.
A Gentleman’s Deal.
“C’mon. That’s new. Have you seen it?” Nate asks.
I hide my face in the pillow, nodding my yes.
He tugs the pillow off me. “Hunter. Admit it. You’ve seen everything.”
I just shrug. “Well, do you miss a football practice?”
“No fucking way.”
“Do you work out every day?”
Nate’s eyes drift pointedly down his body. He’s wearing underwear. That’s it. Tight purple Rafe Rodman underwear that makes me want to rip them off and do more bad things to him. “You tell me, hottie,” he says.
I toss the pillow to the end of the couch, drop my face to his stomach, and kiss it. “Yes, there’s that body confidence.”
He grabs my head, tugs me closer, murmurs a yes. This man has quite an appetite, and I kind of love it.
I kind of love everything about this afternoon so far. Taking a breath, I settle my head on his stomach, savoring the quiet moment. It’s been a while since I felt this sort of comfort and ease. Since someone seemed real and honest.
Wait.
Hold on.
Just because one afternoon is wonderful doesn’t mean any more will be. Boyfriends cheat. Men you think you might marry cheat.
I sit up stiffly, run a hand through my hair. “Yes, I’ve seen most of my shows,” I say, answering his first question.
Nate points the remote at the screen. “Then we’ll have to watch your competitors.”
I narrow my eyes, growl at him. I’m no longer thinking of exes.
He laughs. “Aww, you’re cute when you’re mad, Hunter.”
Holding the remote far away from me, he flips to Hulu then taps his chin. “Let’s see. What should we watch? Should we try Amazon Prime? Or wait. How about Apple TV?”
I huff. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I might,” he says.
“And what if I root for the New York Leopards?”
He gasps like I’ve mortally wounded him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I might,” I say, teasing him, keeping a cool, calm expression. “Try me. Just try me.”
“Dude, you better come to one of my games and root for me,” he says, then blinks, his jaw going slack.
Then he worries at his lips like he’s just realized what he said. And what it means.
The meaning hits me square in the chest too. Is he asking me to see him again? With some kind of regularity? As a boyfriend? The thought gives me heart palpitations but also kind of excites me. A lot. Maybe both at the same time.
But he quickly waves a hand. “JK. JK,” he says, rolling his shoulders.
My brow creases. Is he truly just kidding? He sounded legit. But now, as he flicks the remote, he’s the picture of the casual, uncommitted athlete.
And that’s fine by me.
That’s what I want right now.
After Brandon and the way we ended, the last thing I want is to lose my heart again.
Nate is the kind of guy I could lose my head over and my heart too. It’s a good thing he’s such a laidback fellow. If he weren’t, I’d be in danger. “Good. Because I probably would cheer a sack or something,” I deadpan.
He arches a brow. “You do know football.”
I give a small smile. “Maybe a little.”
Then he tackles me, and his mouth meets mine. I don’t mind the big guy pinning me down. Not one bit.
Especially when he lavishes kisses all over my neck and chest, then abs too, before he pulls back to look up at me. “Mmm. The things I want to do to you might require more than one cycle of the dryer.”
“Is that so?”
He hitches himself up my body, lifts a hand, and brushes strands of hair from my face. “Yeah, that is so,” he says, then sighs contentedly. He shifts around, sitting next to me, but draping an arm around my neck. “How about a movie? I bet I can find one you haven’t seen.”
“Sure. Have a go,” I say, settling in next to him.
He flicks through the streaming options, then finally settles on If Found, Please Return.
“Really?”
“What do you mean, really?” Nate asks.
“You honestly think I haven’t seen If Found, Please Return? It’s bloody fucking amazing.”
“I know. We’ll watch it again. Plus, I love Jude Fox,” he says.
“Do you have a thing for English accents?”
He licks his lips, shoots me a smile. “Seems I do. Got a problem with that?”
“Not one bit,” I say.
But I’ve got to find a problem with him because maybe I do want to go to his football game.
And see him again.
And ask him out.
As we watch the movie I’ve seen three times, I talk back to my overactive brain. I tell myself there’s no reason to worry. Nate is clearly a hookup kind of guy. I can handle hookups. I want hookups.
Hell, the way his hands are all over me as we watch the film, he seems to have sex on his mind a lot.
As the credits roll, he nibbles on his lip, like he’s lost in thought. He glances at the clock on the wall.
My heart beats faster. Nerves skitter across my skin.