I barely had time to register the sound of his thundering steps in the office before my chair was rolling backward and his hands were on me. One holding me in place while the other went to that ticklish spot on my side.
I jerked away from his fingers, but he followed my movements, tickling relentlessly. “What were you looking at, Izzy?”
“Nothing,” I cried out, my sharp laughs coming in bursts as I swatted at him and tried to get back to the computer.
He grabbed my hand when I reached for the mouse and dug in harder, his low, rumbling laugh mixing with mine. “Just such a bad liar,” he teased.
“It was nothing,” I said breathlessly, tightening my grip on the fingers linked with mine and desperately trying to grab the hand that was torturing me. “It isn’t ready!”
“And there it is,” he said as if that explained it all. He turned the chair and tugged me from it, seamlessly pulling me over his shoulder.
My gasp filled the office and faded into an outburst of endless curses as he stalked from the room with me hanging from him like a doll.
Cursing him and bringing his mother into it. Saying other things that were wholly inappropriate and would’ve mortified my mother. Maybe even had her dragging me to church for an exorcism.
“Mamón.”
A low whistle sounded from Hunter as he carried me through his bedroom. “That wasn’t nice.”
“It was the nicest I’ve been,” I snapped.
“It was the only one I picked up,” he countered easily, amusement pouring from him.
“Then learn.”
“You talk too fast.”
A retort was dancing on my tongue, but that was when he entered the bathroom. His large, confident strides never faltering.
“Hunter . . .” I began, my breathing embarrassingly loud after my tirade. When he stepped into the shower, I smacked his back with both hands and shouted, “Hunter Dixon! Don’t you dare.”
Something between a gasp and a squeal and an incomprehensible plea to put me down fled from me when he turned the shower on—spraying us both with ice-cold water.
He tensed, but his booming laugh drowned out my shock.
“I hate you,” I wheezed as I trembled for an entirely different reason than I’d wanted to. “I hate you.”
But Hunter was all smiles and dimples and heated stares as he slid me down his body. His large hands gripping and teasing as he slowly pushed me back until I was pressed to the tiled wall.
“That fiery temper and dirty mouth,” he murmured, all gravel and sex.
“You like it,” I said on a breath.
His strong fingers dug into my butt as he pulled me tight against him, letting me feel exactly how much he liked it. “Maybe.”
I placed my hands against his chest and put the slightest pressure there, my eyes rolling. “I can make myself come better for just a maybe . . .” A giggle burst from me when he shoved me against the wall and began tugging at my pants.
I knocked off his baseball cap and reached for his shirt. Now see-through and clinging to him even more due to the harsh spray from the shower. But after only managing to get the material bunched up to his chest, I gave up with an irritated huff and reached for the button on his jeans.
My movements matched his as I tried to rid him of the only clothes that mattered. Rough and aggravated as we battled soaked material and need.
Need for a few moments of bliss.
Need to satisfy that carnal craving with absolutely no strings attached.
“Fuck it,” Hunter growled when he got my pants down to my calves.
And then he was turning me and pressing me back up against the tiles. Gripping my hips and pushing inside me with one long, hard thrust.
A breathless moan ripped from me.
My forehead fell to the wall as he stilled, giving me a few seconds to adjust to him.
To feel him before he was moving. Taking me in fast, rough strokes. His fingers digging into my hips so hard it might’ve hurt, but I couldn’t be sure at that moment.
It was as if the buildup to get here had been so infuriating that he couldn’t wait any longer. Couldn’t take it slow. Couldn’t handle anything other than fucking me savagely.
Mostly dressed.
Water pelting down on us.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced anything hotter.
It was all I could do to try to find something to hold on to. As if there might be anything on this slippery, unified wall to help me stay upright.
But I wanted it. I wanted more.
One of his hands raced up my spine until he was gripping my shoulder. Forcing me down onto his cock again and again and harder still while the other moved between my thighs. His fingers slipping between my slick folds and finding my clit.
Quickly bringing me to body-numbing pleasure that burst through me and forced me to that place—that bliss—we craved. To that seemingly endless sea as I floated down, down, down . . .
And back to Hunter.
To that moment with him just before he lost himself inside me. Gripping even tighter as a low growl raked up his throat. His movements slowing before stopping altogether.
Seconds or minutes passed as we stood there. Our ragged breaths combining and mixing with the steam that was slowly filling the space before he eased out of me. One of his hands pressed against the wall to steady us both as he rocked us back a step.
“You’re sweaty and gross,” I mumbled, my lips twisting into a smirk as I gently smacked at his arm.
His muted laugh vibrated against my back. “Like we haven’t fucked looking worse.”
I sucked in a gasp. “That was so different, and you know it.”
“We were covered in mud, thanks to you.”
I awkwardly turned in his arms, thanks to the confinement of my jeans, playfully shoving at him as I did. “You were laughing at me, pendejo.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I tried helping you.”
My eyes narrowed as I remembered that day from this winter. I’d had time-sensitive questions, made worse with the storm that was threatening to knock out the power. But Hunter had been getting the animals in the barn and had left his phone on the counter. When I’d run out to get the answers, I’d slipped in mud and covered my entire backside from head to toe.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Hunter laugh so hard.
But even when I’d pulled him into the mud and shoved a handful into his face, his laughter hadn’t faded.
That was the thing about Hunter.
His first, second, and third reactions were amusement, and all with that relaxed air that was so calming. He was comfort.
If I wanted a fight, he let me take it out on him and always dished back just enough.
When it came to the physical aspect of us, he was rough and possessive. He could make me forget my name somewhere among the orgasms and demands for more.
He could read me perfectly. He always knew what I needed and gave it to me without wanting anything in return.
And vice versa.
It’s what made us so good together.
“That was different,” I said with a little of the sass I knew would make him lose the fight against smiling. “This is different.” I poked his partially-clothed chest. “You stink.”
Lie.
I wasn’t sure Hunter’s body knew how to smell bad. It was annoying.
Dimples greeted me with his blinding smile. “You’re welcome.”