Page 73 of Strut

I raised my hand for a fist bump. “Deal.”

“And you’ll stop with the ‘you should leave me for your own good’ crap, as well. Agreed?”

I blushed hard and hot. “Agreed.”

“Now, come here.” He dragged me on top of him and punctuated his next words with kisses to my face. “Somewhere... in the fine print of the... ‘we’re pretending we aren’t in love’ agreement... there’s a magical clause that says... you have to make me breakfast... or your dick will shrivel to the size of a wiener.”

I barked out a laugh. “A wiener? Really?”

He put up his hands. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.”

I glanced down between us and grinned. “All I’m saying is it would take a fuckton of magic to achieve that.”

He followed my gaze and pulled a face. “This is true. Not to mention a huge loss to humanity in general and me in particular. But you can never be too careful. I wouldn’t risk angering the magic.” He fell back on the pillow. “Toast and Vegemite, thanks.”

I laughed and flicked him on the forehead, then scrambled out of bed, dragging the covers with me to the floor.

“Hey.” He grabbed for the blanket. “I thought you loved me?”

I flipped him off over my shoulder. “Falling, arsehole, falling. That one syllable is going to be mighty convenient me thinks.” I headed to make breakfast, leaving Hunter grumbling something about uppity models and contract renegotiations.

* * *

We had a lazy breakfast in bed, sharing more stories about our upbringing, first loves, first kisses, first sex, and so on. Eventually Hunter asked whether I’d be calling my parents about what happened. That idea got a hard no from me. Not yet. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to hear the inevitableI told you soor the requisite demand to come home.

After breakfast, we took a slow shower together. Hunter washed me from head to toe while I tried to push the image of Darcy from my mind as his hands ran over my body and my cock hung soft. He never said a word, just kissed me gently and held me as the hot water ran rivers over our bodies. Hunter loved me. Falling. Fallen.Whatever.He loved me. It was a lifeline and I was holding on hard.

My improved mood lasted until ten thirty when Detective Ronald Green’s name popped up on my phone. I put the call on speaker and Hunter slid beside me on the couch to listen.

“Darcy denies everything. No surprise there,” Ron’s crusty voice barked through the phone. “He’s sticking to his story. Says it wasyouwho offered sex in exchange for his support. He also said you were pissed off when he refused and that your claim of assault is nothing more than sour grapes.”

Fuck.“Bastard.”

Ronald sighed. “He’s obviously smart and covering his bases. He knows you can’t prove anything, and he pointed out that he reported it first.”

“Because I was too fucking shocked at the time to do anything.”

“I absolutely understand. Not reporting it immediately is way more common, especially with men. Someone in the US is sexually assaulted every sixty to ninety seconds, and survivors wait days, months, years before saying something. Many, especially men, never report it at all. And it’s a hard pill to swallow when the accused person reports the opposite claim. I can’t say I’ve seen it happen very often, but it’s not unknown.”

“That’s total bullshit,” Hunter chimed in.

“I know. I know,” Ronald soothed. “But with nothing physical except wrist bruising as evidence, plus your statement, it was always going to be a tough sell to a prosecutor. I think you should prepare yourself. There’s always the option of a civil lawsuit.”

“Which will face exactly the same problem,” I scoffed. “And I’m also not a citizen. If Darcy squeezes my potential work hard enough, I’ll have to leave the country. I don’t have money to fight something I’m not likely to win. But even if you can’t press charges, it still stays on record, right? In case anyone else comes forward.”

“Yes. Your report stays on file. We’re not shelving this yet, okay? We’ll do some digging and see if his name comes up anywhere else in our system, maybe another jurisdiction.”

Relief coursed through me and I sagged against the couch. It was something, at least. We talked back and forth about possible avenues to follow, but in the end it came down to evidence. Without anything direct, I needed other people who’d faced the same problem with Darcy to stand with me, and in that, I had a big fat zero.

The call ended, leaving me as deflated as I’d felt the previous day. Hunter pulled me into a hug and fed me comfort in that determined way he had that brooked no argument. Like all my problems could be, if not solved, then at least quieted by time spent in his arms. Research so far tended to agree, and I wasn’t about to argue.

I leaned into his warmth, feeling his reassuring heartbeat thrumming at my back. Hunter had burrowed under my skin, and before I knew it, he was unpicking my seams from the inside out. Sneaky fucker.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“No, not really,” I admitted.

He nuzzled the tender skin behind my ear. “Remember I said to tell me to back off if you needed me to?”

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