Page 56 of Playing the Field
He can’t fight the boyish pride in his smirk. “Well, that’s maybe the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” I playfully try to swat him, but his reflexes are too fast. I end up with my arms pinned to my sides in his tight embrace.
“Oh no, you don’t. You can’t say something like that and get away from me.”
I wriggle in his arms but have no real intention of escaping. “I don’t want to get away.”
“Good. Because we’re doing this.”
“We are?”
He nods slowly, deliberately. “Yes, we are.”
“Okay.” I grin at him like a groupie, and I don’t care if I look like a fool.
He wraps his large hand around my rib cage and pulls me against him. I revel in the feeling of being pressed against his body. Without second-guessing, I stand on my toes and loop my arms around his neck.
Hunter swivels his baseball hat so it’s backward and cups my cheek in one hand as he leans in to kiss me. There’s none of the hesitance from the other night, no light brushes of his lips against mine. This is a kiss that claims me as his, leaving no question about where I stand.
I savor the taste of him as our tongues tangle. The flavor of coffee mixed with raspberries. I want more than I can have on the side of a road, but for now, it’s enough.
When we break the kiss, Hunter looks me over and nods as though he’s satisfied. “So you’ll go on a real date with me?”
I laugh because it sounds like he’s proposing a tennis match. “I’ll do all kinds of things with you. I like you, soccer star.”
“You hear that, Bogie? Gracie likes me.” The dog’s ears perk up when he hears his name. “And that makes me really goddamn lucky.” Bogie starts circling Hunter’s legs. Whether it’s because he understands the words or he wants to start walking, I can’t be sure. But I prefer to think he understands.
“Kyler is going to lose his ever-loving mind,” I say. “Do we have to tell him?”
“I, for one, can’t fucking wait.”
Hunter releases his tight grip and moves his arms up my back and up to the nape of my neck. He turns my face at an angle and floors me with a kiss that feels like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s needy and hot, and it communicates everything that can’t be put into words. I feel like Hunter is digging deep into my soul and connecting to me on an elemental level. My body arches into his, and I’m oblivious to any cars driving by.
We’re wrapped up in each other in the shade of a sprawling live oak, tucked into the nook of a side street. Bogie sprawls like a seal on his belly. No part of me wants to leave this corner or step away from Hunter.
Our kiss deepens, and I wrap a leg around him, urging myself closer even though closer may be physically impossible. He lifts me easily, and I encircle his waist with my legs and cup his face in my hands. Tipping my face down, I kiss him like he’s essential to my very survival.
Reaching down, I feel how hard he is, and it matches my own hunger for him.
“God, Tink,” he bites out. “I’m not fucking you on a street corner even though I want to.”
His course words send a ripple of heat down my spine, and I picture myself pushing his pants down and having him rail meagainst a tree. The surprising image makes me smile against his lips.
“What?” he asks, adjusting his grip and digging his fingers into both cheeks of my bottom.
I shake my head. “I was imagining the PR fallout if you were caught on social media with your pants down in the Hollywood Hills.”
He laughs and lets me slide down his body until my feet are on the ground. He kisses my temple. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he mutters, more proud of himself than embarrassed. I kind of like that he doesn’t shy away from his past, even if he’s telling me that’s no longer who he is.
“Such a player,” I tease.
“Former player.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Can you trust me on that?”
Even though it doesn’t come easily, I decide I do trust him. “I can.”
