Page 13 of Naked

Like standing naked on a Broadway stage

Tilley

All my Hunter Rules were broken. Very broken indeed. Whatever shreds I still held in my hands evaporated on that private jet. Now I had no rules, a sleeping Hunter beside me in his hotel room, and a restless desire to kiss him again.

His alarm went off. His eyes opened. I couldn’t breathe.

“You’re awake.” He smiled and reached for his phone on the nightstand to silence the strumming guitar music.

The truth was I didn’t sleep much. Partly because I never sleep well in new places and partly because I’d only slept beside a man one other time.

Six months ago to be precise.

And on neither occasion was I entirely sure how I felt about it. Six months ago because I was freaking out about everything. Tonight because...I was freaking out about everything. I had very little work for the next three weeks, which meant I could focus all my overactive attention on the fact that kissing Hunter felt incredibly good, that my body wanted to repeat our sexual adventures, and that he felt the same way.

He was clear and precise in his application of rules. Oh, he didn’t call them that, but it wasn’t hard to ascertain what he was doing. He knew how my brain worked and he was operating within my parameters. It was...well it was adorable and romantic.

“Yes. I’m awake. What happens next?” I would pay for a roadmap right about now. Or an excellent textbook on navigating relationships where one partner is magnitudes hotter than the other. He slept with a shirt on, not that it helped. I could still see every perfectly sculpted, athletic muscle. Oh, and have I mentioned the eye twinkle? Absolutely unnecessary for that to be included in his sex package on top of the great hair and muscles and smiles.

He chuckled lightly. “Well if you aren’t afraid of my breath, we could kiss again. Otherwise, we order room service and talk about kissing until I have to leave for the field. You’re coming, right?”

“It wouldn’t make sense to fly all the way to see you and not come to your game.”

His eyes twinkled. “Pancakes or eggs?” He snagged the room service menu and picked up the phone.

“Pancakes, please.”

He ordered far more than pancakes. He included eggs, bacon, potatoes, fruit and orange juice. He requested coffee be sent up immediately with pastries.

“Isn’t it late for hotel breakfast? And to have them come up twice?” It felt overly indulgent.

“They’re great to us here.” Hunter rummaged through his clothes. “They know we’ve been on the road for a while and that we’re all tired and homesick. They’ve gone out of their way to make us feel better from the late breakfasts to the extra food runs. We’re athletes who work late. They know the drill.”

“Hmmm.” I supposed it made sense. And it was a really nice hotel. I’d never seen so many smiling faces or been treated so kindly at a hotel before.

“Why do you look nervous?” He mussed his hair and scrubbed his face, stretching and yawning. “I’m not going to maul you like a tiger.”

“So we hang out and I watch your games?” I began to braid my hair and wondered if he would keep talking if I started another sudoku puzzle.

“Yes. We hang out—kiss if you’re feeling it—and you come to my games. We can have dinner with Joachim and Ash or be alone. Sometimes a whole bunch of us all do dinner together. It’s fun.” He shrugged. “But mostly I want to spend time with you, in whatever capacity makes you comfortable.” He scooted closer and cupped my face, asking for a kiss.

I nodded once. I did not feel capable of being in control of anything this morning and was more than happy to hand over decision making to Hunter. We kissed until coffee arrived. Then he took his cup with him to the shower and left me to pick out my clothes and drink in peace.

Why was it so hard for me to accept that Hunter had feelings for me that might mirror the things I felt for him? My poor pillow knew more about how I felt than he did. But saying the words or repeating the actions my dreams conjured up, to say them out loud to the man who inspired those feelings and dreams, felt incredibly vulnerable. Too vulnerable. Like standing naked on a Broadway stage and asking the audience to critique me.

Dear God, no!

And yet I could not deny his logic. He had never been anything but kind and honest with me. He said what he meant and he meant what he said. And if he said he had feelings for me...then he did.

I couldn’t breathe.

The thought alone made my lungs shrink to the size of frozen peas. Like a band was wrapped around my body and cinched tight, keeping me from drawing a full breath. It was too much.

I showered after he was done and even though I could smell the heaven that was pancakes and bacon, I took my time applying hair product and face lotion. I might never be a model, but I cared about appearance. Upon further examination of my completed outfit—jeans, Mantas shirt, chucks—I decided the Seattle weather would permit a light layer of makeup. So I also applied some powder, blush, mascara, and a lip gloss, which I instantly regretted becausebreakfast.

But it was just gloss, so I stepped into the bedroom and ate a morning after meal with Hunter six months after the fact. To be clear, last night there was no touching. Well, there was handholding and some light touching, but once the lights went out, we passed out.

“You know if you’d stayed I would have picked up breakfast from Grace’s and taken you to the airport. I wanted to do those things.”

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