“Maddie, that’s enough.”
Her lips slowly popped open. Her eyes widening with shock and indignation as she turned to look at him.
“You need to leave,” Raf continued, voice softening only slightly. “We’re never going to get through this if you’re in here.”
“But she—”
“Maddie,” he bit out.
Seconds passed before she shoved from the chair and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of rage behind her that disappeared as quickly as it had all begun.
“Shall we start again?” the lawyer asked nearly a minute after she’d left the room.
Raf took a calming breath and dipped his head in a nod.
I returned the gesture and offered the lawyer an apologetic smile. “Please.”
“¿Tienes alguna idea de lo que me estás haciendo? ¿Qué tan insoportable es estar tan cerca de ti y no poder tocarte? Han pasado diez malditos años, Hunter,” I bit out as I stormed through the house, movements rough as I pulled a shirt over my head and fought the wave of emotion barreling through me.
“I know how long it’s been, Isabel.”
I whirled around to find Hunter just a few steps behind me, dressed in a pair of boxer briefs he must’ve pulled on as he followed after me. Looking more shocked than he had when I’d tried to kiss him just seconds before.
“I know we’ve been doing this for ten years,” he reiterated, his head angling slightly. “But you knew what this was. You agreed. And now you’re suddenly telling me that this—what we’re doing—is unbearable because you can’t . . . what’d you say? Touch me?”
One of the many great things about Hunter: He’d made it a point to learn Spanish over the years.
One of the bad things about Hunter: He’d learned Spanish over the years.
He erased the distance between us with one large step. Snatching up my hand and pressing it to his heaving chest as if to prove me wrong.
But this, it only showed how right I was.
Because this touch . . . it was still so primal—as our touches had always been. My fingers were curled against him, digging into his chest, and he was holding me possessively.
Displays of passion and physical needs.
Like the times he’d pull me onto his lap as we spoke, keeping his fingers curled against me and gripping me to him. Keeping our bodies balancing delicately on the edge of carnal need.
But if I were to shift . . .
If I were to take that passion and let affection show through instead . . .
I flattened my palm and lifted my other hand to curl around his neck, only barely registering the fierce pounding of his heart when Hunter moved. Gripping my wrists and forcing both of my hands between us to stop the tender touches.
My head moved in wide shakes and my teeth clenched as I wrenched from his hold and bit out, “This isn’t sudden.”
I took off for the kitchen again, angrily opening up the pantry and grabbing what I needed before moving toward the cupboard that held pots and pans.
Rage-baking.
It was a thing.
Grabbing a pan to melt butter, I stood and pointed it at Hunter only for him to swiftly remove and set it on the counter.
Probably smart.
“And, yes, it is excruciating,” I went on. “But what makes it worse is you pretending that you don’t feel it too—that need to get closer to me.”
“Izzy,” he begged softly.
“Don’t Izzy me,” I snapped. “I know you do. I can feel it. You’re just terrified to change what we became. You’re afraid to let yourself have what you want. And don’t you dare tell me you don’t want me, because I damn well know you do. I felt when that started for you just as I felt and saw how you were refusing to let yourself believe it. Then I felt you stop fighting that pull between us only for the fear to set in.”
Hunter’s eyelids slowly shut. When they opened again, his stare was on the floor, keeping me from deciphering his thoughts.
I’d come to the horrifying and exhilarating and worrying realization that I was falling in love with Hunter years ago.
I’d fought it at every turn to not mess up what we had.
But a year ago, I started noticing his lingering glances, even on the days when we were strictly boss and employee. He started coming to the house for lunches nearly every day instead of staying with the crew as he always had. His stare following me as we fixed up a quick lunch and talked before he’d head back out. Looks that made my heart ache for more and sent heated chills across my body every time I’d think back on them.
After a couple weeks, I braved a touch. Just a playful brush of my fingers across his forearm as he was about to leave my office.
Silly, I know.
But considering how that had always been a hard no between us, I hadn’t been sure how he would take it.
Instead of grabbing my hand to stop it, he’d just stared at the spot I’d touched for a few moments before walking out.
I’d considered it a success but had been afraid to push it, so I waited another couple of weeks before doing it again. And then again.
Each time, he let it happen. Each time, he just stared at the spot before giving me a heated look.
But one night after he’d pulled out of me and rolled to his side, I’d reached for him. In a move so fast it had shocked me, he’d gripped my hand, stopping me. His eyes narrowing on me in a way that warned I was pushing it too far.
And then he’d said, “I’ll always belong to someone else. Find someone who can give you their heart.” Words he’d said countless times when we’d first begun sleeping together. Words I’d always rolled my eyes at because, back then, I had never wanted anything more than sex with Hunter. I’d been sure I would never want anyone other than Dean.
But that night, they broke something inside me.
Might’ve broken me completely if I hadn’t seen the pain and fear that flared in his eyes when he’d said them. If I hadn’t been sure he was falling in love with me too.
After that night, I’d only tried touching him a couple times in intimate moments. Both times, he’d put a quick stop to it. Both times, he’d reminded me that I needed to find someone.
Outside of those moments, I went back to my casual, playful brushes here and there.
About a month ago, Hunter touched me.
A graze on my hip. Then one on my wrist. And, finally, a teasing caress of his fingers against mine.
The last had been today, and it had given me the courage to kiss him.
Once again, he’d moved faster than I could comprehend. His strong fingers wrapping under my jaw and shifting my head to the side before my lips could meet his. His hissed, “Fuck,” still rang in my ear from when I’d shoved away.
And despite it all, despite Hunter’s shock at what happened and what I’d said, I’d seen his fear when he’d stopped me from walking away. I saw the way he kept subtly swaying toward me as if the distance between us was already too much.
But this was getting to be too much for me.
“I agreed to something when I was eighteen years old,” I began, my voice quivering. “I agreed to something when I was too broken to know that I would ever want anyone again.”
Hunter looked up, his expression a mixture of panic and denial.