Page 66 of Irresistible
“What did he want? Does he need money? Is he in some kind of trouble?” Hunter asked.
“No. Nothing like that. He wanted to talk about our father—he’s dying.” The words sounded foreign. They sounded as if someone else were speaking them. This wasn’t my voice or my life.
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” Hunter pulled me close, holding me, letting me sink into him.
His chest was so strong. His arms so safe. And I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed this. How much I’d missed letting someone comfort me.
Typically, it made me feel vulnerable, weak. But Hunter only made me feel strong, unstoppable. With his support, I felt like I could do anything. And somehow, that was even more unsettling.
“Why didn’t your dad tell you himself?” he finally asked when I withdrew from his embrace.
I could’ve stayed there all day, but Hunter’s question reminded me of all the reasons I couldn’t. I straightened, thinking of my father.
Besides, we had rules. Rules that were meant to keep me safe. To keep my heart safe.
“Because he knows I won’t speak to him. Haven’t spoken to him in years. But…” I blew out a breath. “He wants me to come for Thanksgiving dinner.”
He rubbed circles on my back. “Will you?”
I shook my head, stepping out of his touch completely. As much as I craved it, I also knew it was dangerous. He was dangerous—luring me in, making me believe I could trust him. Be with him—as more than just friends with benefits.
“Probably not.”
He regarded me a moment before asking, “Do you want me to go with you? For moral support,” he tacked on.
The offer was tempting. And I knew I could trust that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. But for once—for the briefest flicker of a moment—I liked the idea of being “attached” to someone. And not just anyone, but Hunter.
It was nice to feel like he had my back. It was nice to spend time together and not just having sex. Nice that he was genuinely supportive.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn’t invite men to family functions. I didn’t confess my family secrets, let alone talk about my complete lack of a relationship with my father. But somehow, I did with Hunter. Maybe because I knew he’d understand.
I opened my eyes and tried to clear my head. “Thanks, but I already have plans. I always spend the day with my aunt and her family.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Opened it again and finally said, “I know my father and I don’t always see eye to eye, but if he were dying, I’d wouldn’t want to miss the chance to say goodbye.”
I shook my head. “You wouldn’t say that if your father had done what mine did.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”
He was goading me. Trying to dare me into telling him. It wouldn’t work.
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about this. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Come on.” I slung my purse over my shoulder. “We have an appointment I don’t want to miss.”
“Fine.” He boxed me in behind my desk, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
“What is it with you and talking about feelings?” I teased. “You’ve been hanging out with Preston too much.”
Preston was studying to be a cancer counselor to pediatric patients, and he was big on communicating feelings. I admired his outlook, but he had it all wrong.
Feelings weren’t like an heirloom quilt that you looked upon with loving care. Feelings were meant to be shoved down, placed in a box, then set on a shelf in a dark closet you never opened. Because the feelings associated with memories of my father weren’t warm and comforting like an embrace. They were like falling onto a bed of cacti. And I certainly didn’t want a bunch of thorns in my ass.
Hunter didn’t say anything. He merely leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, communicating without words. As he deepened the kiss, threading his hands through my hair, his touch spoke of trust, support, desire. And I felt myself relaxing into him. Wanting to believe those promises.
He ended the kiss, but not before adding another peck to my lips. “J’aime t’embrasser.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, feeling a little dazed.
