Page 61 of Because I Liked A Boy
“Maybe I like fire.”
His restraint fractures. His grip tightens on my thigh and his mouth crashes into mine, wet and fierce, tasting of steam and want. The kiss is hot and relentless. Water laps against my skin while he kneels like I’m both holy and forbidden.
I fumble at his overall straps. “Your turn to be looked after,” I breathe.
For a heartbeat I think he’ll let me. His breath hitches. His hips twitch. He catches my wrists, firm and gentle, and lowers them.
“Not tonight,” he says, rough but steady, eyes hot and resolved.
Before I can argue he rises in one smooth move. He grabs a towel. “Be good, princess,” he adds with a crooked grin, offering his hand.
I take it. He hauls me up and wraps the towel snug around me, tucking the corner with careful hands. Warmth holds me, but it’s the way he looks at me that unravels me like I’m his, even when he’s holding back.
He kisses my forehead and laces our fingers, leading me down the hall.
“Pyjamas,” he says gently. “Get dressed.”
I pull the towel tighter while he checks his phone on the night stand. The screen lights his face.
“Shit,” he says with a crooked smile. “It’s already eleven. We both have work.”
Reality returns, quieter and steadier. For the first time tonight it feels less like chaos and more like something dangerously normal.
He sets the phone down and looks at me at the drawer. His eyes go soft. “Time for bed, princess.”
It hits fast: it isn’t just his bed I want. It’s his life.
I clutch the towel and swallow. “Hunter?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you stay the night?”
His mouth curves, green eyes flashing. He crosses back, tilts my chin with a rough fingertip. “Only if you promise to be good,” he murmurs against my lips.
Being good is the last thing on my mind.
I let the towel fall. His eyes flare as I pull on black shorts and a matching vest.
“Not exactly a good-girl move,” he says, voice low.
“Maybe I don’t want to be good.”
“Careful, princess,” he warns, grin spreading. “You keep talking like that and I won’t be the one losing sleep.”
I laugh, crawl into bed, and pat the mattress. “I can resist you,” I tease, even as a yawn betrays me.
He chuckles, low and warm. “We’ll see.”
He shrugs off his overalls and drops them. Boxers cling indecently to his hips, chest inked and solid, muscles flexing as he moves. My breath catches.One thigh slips free of the covers as he steps closer. His jaw tightens and he drags his gaze back to my face.
“Tease,” he says, no heat in it, only hunger.
I grin and roll to my side. He climbs in, kisses my forehead, and pulls me against his chest. His arm wraps around my waist.
“Go to sleep, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with his own yawn.
And I do. With Hunter’s arms around me, the world outside stops mattering. For the first time in a long time, I’m not bracing for disaster. I just feel safe.
