Page 63 of Because I Liked A Boy
“They’re good,” I admitted.
His grin widened. “Good? That’s insulting. These are life-changing.”
Before I could argue, he grabbed whipped cream, squirting a swirl onto my pancake.
I stared. “Seriously?”
“Respect,” he said solemnly, smirk betraying him.
I drowned his plate in cream. “There. Respect.”
His eyes lit, wicked. “Oh, it’s like that?”
Before I could move, a smear of cream landed on my cheek.
“Hunter.”
He leaned across the counter, thumb brushing slow, deliberate. Then his lips followed. Soft. Warm. A flick of tongue tracing the sweetness away. Heat jolted through me, sharp enough I gripped the counter to stay upright.
The taste of cream lingered, but it wasn’t what had me trembling. It was him.
“Hunter…” I whispered. Warning. Plea.
His eyes burned into mine, voice low. “Told you, princess. One bite and you’re mine.”
My father’s voice slammed back, cold as steel: You can run, Isabella. But you can’t hide from me.
The kitchen was warm, heavy with butter and steam, but inside me it felt like ice.
Hunter leaned in, forehead brushing mine. “Hey. Where’d you just go?”
“Nowhere.”
“Bullshit.” His tone cut through me, not harsh, just certain. “Don’t shut me out. Not after last night.”
The lump in my throat burned. “It’s just… him. I can’t get his voice out of my head.”
His jaw flexed, thumb brushing my cheek. He didn’t push. Instead, he picked up my fork, speared a piece of pancake, and held it to my lips.
“Eat.” His voice was steady, commanding. “Reality tastes better.”
The warmth grounded me more than words could.
He ate his own bite, then caught my hand across the counter, lacing our fingers. His grip was warm, solid, inescapable.
“I have to be at work in twenty minutes,” he said. “Want a ride, baby?”
I arched a brow. “Baby’s just for the bedroom, huh?”
Hunter’s smirk turned dangerous. “When I said you’re mine last night…” his grip tightened, “I meant it.”
“Oh yeah?” I teased. “Big words for a guy who almost lost a pancake war.”
His laugh rumbled low. “Careful, princess. I always play for keeps.”
Before I could answer, he tugged my hand, pressed a kiss to my knuckles. Then my cheek. Then my forehead, lips lingering just long enough to undo me.
“I’m showering,” he muttered, grin sharp. “Don’t even think about joining me, or we’ll never make it to work.”
