Home Random Page


CATEGORIES:

BiologyChemistryConstructionCultureEcologyEconomyElectronicsFinanceGeographyHistoryInformaticsLawMathematicsMechanicsMedicineOtherPedagogyPhilosophyPhysicsPolicyPsychologySociologySportTourism






Chapter 8

After Gretchen had showered and taken a nap, she awoke with the realization that she’d completely forgotten to ask Hunter if he wanted to invite a few friends over.

She suspected it wouldn’t be an easy topic to broach with him. There had to be a reason why this big, gorgeous house was empty of everyone but the owner and sour Eldon. Still, a party would be a good thing. She could introduce him to her friends, and she could put Kat’s mind at ease about the situation.

And she could show him that the world wasn’t full of people who wanted nothing more than to leer at his face and stare at him.

She suspected Hunter didn’t leave the grounds much, just as she knew no one came to visit very often. Why he’d ever agreed to let her do the letters here, she had no idea, but she was grateful. It had brought them together, however briefly.

She’d have to approach the thought of a party with a lot of tact and subtlety.

***

 

Hunter wanted to do something for Gretchen, he decided as he ran off his tension on the treadmill.

She’d done so much for him—gave herself so freely and so sweetly—that he wanted to do something for her. But what? He was already giving her money through the book contract, and just handing a woman thousands of dollars after sleeping with her felt rather . . . crass. But money was the only thing he knew, other than property.

Property. Hunter debated it for a moment, then shook his head and kept running. Most of the properties acquired by the Buchanan family were extremely expensive investment properties. He doubted Gretchen would know what to do if he handed her a twenty-million-dollar flat in Manhattan or a shopping mall in Poughkeepsie. And she might panic at the amount of money. He didn’t give a shit, but he suspected something like that might be alarming to a regular sort of person.

More roses? He gave her roses every day, though. It was part of their little ritual. He needed something that only he could give her. Something that would show her that he knew how she thought and what she would appreciate.

Something thoughtful.

Something that told her he loved her.

Because he was pretty sure he did. It was too soon to tell, and there was too much adrenaline rushing through his veins after sex to know that it wasn’t just post-coitus giddiness.

But Gretchen was perfect for him. He wanted to show her that he was perfect for her, too. There had to be something.

Hunter continued running. He’d come up with something eventually.

***

 

Gretchen hadn’t heard from Hunter all day. His schedule had been full of meetings, and despite her longing to spend time with him—which was ridiculous, really—he had to work, and she did, too.

Her morning rose had unfurled in its vase by dinnertime, and she leaned in and touched a velvety petal. Her work had been going slow, her thoughts distracted. Every single sexual act described in Victorian euphemism in the letters made her pulse race and her imagination automatically insert Hunter into her mental images.



It made working at a brisk pace near impossible. She had tight deadlines, so she couldn’t afford the distraction, and yet . . .

A knock at the door made Gretchen jump. “Come in.”

She turned just in time to see Hunter, and a smile curved her face. The smile disappeared a little when she caught sight of the somber suit he was dressed in as well as the bodyguard out in the hall. “Going out?”

“I have a . . . meeting.” He grimaced, the lines of his scars stark on his face. “I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”

“Oh. Well, that’s disappointing.” She gave him a playful mock-pout. “I guess I won’t stay up and wait for you, then.”

“Actually,” Hunter said, moving into the room. He stood before her and lightly brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “If you want to wait in my bed for me, I’d be happy to wake you up when I return.”

“Mmmm.” She leaned into his hand, and then lightly bit at the pad of his thumb. “We’ll see.”

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d totally be there.

Hunter’s gaze seemed to brighten, though he didn’t quite crack a smile. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Actually,” Gretchen began. “I wanted to talk to you about having a small get-together of some kind. My agent is really pushing for a small house party here, since it’d give me a good chance to spend time with my editor and tie in the project with the house.” She winced at his expressionless face. “Feel free to tell me no. I know this is your house.”

After a long moment, his finger brushed over her cheek again. “Would this please you?”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable,” she told him truthfully. “But it’d get my agent and my editor off my back for a while, which would be nice. I figured you could invite your friends, though. Maybe that’d make things less painful.”

“I . . . am not good with strangers,” he admitted.

“Is it because of your face?” When his cheeks began to flush red, she shook her head. “You don’t have anything to be uncomfortable about. I find your scars incredibly sexy.”

He gave her a scathing look. “My scars are not attractive, Gretchen.”

“On anyone else they wouldn’t be,” she agreed, getting to her feet and wrapping her arms around his neck. She leaned in and traced her tongue along the jagged line that distorted the shape of his mouth. “But on you, they arouse me.”

His hand slid to her ass and he gripped it tightly, then groaned low enough that only she could hear. “I can’t miss this meeting, Gretchen. But you’re making me want to leave early. If you want to have this party, it’s fine with me.”

“Are you sure?”

He leaned in and kissed her mouth, sucking on her lower lip in a way that made her quiver. Good God, where had he learned that? “As long as you’re in my bed tonight when I come home, you can have as many parties as you want.”

“I’ll be there,” she told him breathlessly, and collapsed in her chair when he gave her a scorching look and headed out the door.

Gretchen stared after him long after he’d disappeared, then glanced at the clock. How many hours until bedtime? Too many.

***

 

Reese threw his cards down on the table in disgust. “I’m out.”

Hunter’s mouth curved into one of his rare smiles, and he raked the chips on the table toward him. “You should have stayed.”

Reese shook his head. “I can’t read you tonight. You’re being . . . weird.”

“Weird?” Griffin’s cultured voice cut through the smoky haze in the Brotherhood’s meeting room. He put down his cigar and peered at Hunter. “Weird like how?”

“I don’t know,” Reese said bluntly. He tossed back his drink and then shook his head. “I can’t put my finger on it. It’s different.”

“He’s happy,” Cade said.

All eyes turned to the blond man. Cade shrugged, grinning. “I’ve seen him smile twice tonight. He doesn’t scowl when someone suggests something, and he’s actually participated in every conversation and not all of it about business. He’s happy.”

At his side, Logan turned and stared at his friend.

Hunter ignored him, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling. He handed the deck over to Jonathan. “Your deal.” He kept his voice gruff, even though he was pretty sure his face was burning with embarrassment. Was he that obvious?

He glanced over at Jonathan. The other man was chewing on his cigar, his brow creased as if something troubled him. He shuffled and then tossed a chip into the center pile. “Everyone ante up.”

Jonathan didn’t look in Hunter’s direction. Good.

Hunter glanced over at Logan, his oldest friend. Logan was staring at him with a suspicious gaze.

“What?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” He tossed his chip into the center of the table and picked up a card that Jonathan threw his way. “Cade’s right. You’re downright cheerful.”

He frowned at Logan. “You’re one to talk. How’s Brontë?”

A grin flashed across Logan’s face. “In a state of crisis. She’s trying to take classes and expand her reading charity at the same time.” He picked another card up off the table and couldn’t keep the satisfied grin off his face. “And she keeps complaining that I won’t let her get any sleep.”

Hunter’s lips twitched with amusement. Brontë had a remarkably stubborn streak when it came to Logan’s bulldozing ways, and it was a good thing. The tiny woman would never let him walk all over her like he did his business partners, and it was good to see Logan so completely confounded and besotted and happy.

“It’s a woman, isn’t it?” Logan said quietly to Hunter. “That redhead you asked Brontë about. Greta?”

“Gretchen,” Hunter corrected, and then couldn’t hide his smile. “She’s the sister of your assistant.”

“Audrey has a sister?” Logan looked surprised, then recognition dawned. “Ah, right, the one Brontë stayed with for a time. Brontë likes her quite a bit.” His tone implied that anyone that Brontë liked, Logan approved of.

“She has two sisters,” Cade added. “Daphne lives out in LA.”

Hunter glanced at Cade. “You know them?”

Cade downed his drink, then shrugged. “Old family friends. We go back to childhood. You in on this hand?”

Hunter barely glanced at his cards, then tossed a few chips on the pile, feeling reckless. “Gretchen wants me to invite a few friends over,” he admitted in a gruff voice. “A party of some kind.”

“Does this mean we’re all invited?” Reese asked with a cocky grin.

“No,” Hunter said with a scowl.

Jonathan glanced at his cards, then folded. “I admit I’m curious to see this sister of Audrey’s.”

“You’ve seen one of them before,” Cade replied easily. “Daphne Petty.”

Hunter had no idea who that was, but Reese seemed impressed. “No way. Daphne Petty? The Daphne Petty? The one in the tabloids constantly?”

“Who’s Daphne Petty?” Logan frowned, then looked over at Hunter as if he’d have the answers. Hunter shrugged.

“An old childhood friend of mine,” Cade said. “And Audrey’s twin. She’s also—if rumor has it—heavily into drugs and alcohol, thanks to her career.”

“Her career,” Logan said blankly. “What career is this?”

“Singer. Pick up any magazine and you’ll probably see her sloppy drunk on the cover,” Reese said. “Holy crap. I never knew. Audrey looks nothing like her.”

Cade grimaced in agreement. “I know. Daphne’s not . . . well. Audrey’s much healthier.”

Hunter thought of Logan’s extremely curvy assistant and drew a blank at her face. All he knew was that she wore her hair in a bun and she was brisk and efficient and didn’t ask many questions.

She was nothing like Gretchen in that aspect, he thought with a hint of a smile touching his mouth again. Nosy, too inquisitive Gretchen who didn’t know the meaning “mind your own business” if it bit her on the chin. But he kind of loved that about her.

“Ah, hell,” Jonathan said in disgust. “He’s grinning again. Whatever it is, he’s got it bad.”

“Now I’m definitely coming to this party,” Reese said.

“You weren’t invited,” Hunter pointed out, glaring. The last person he wanted around Gretchen was Reese, the epitome of a ladies’ man.

“You’re in the Brotherhood, Hunter,” Cade said with a slap on the back. “You know our rules. We’re all invited. Even the obnoxious ones like Reese.”

Hunter grunted in resignation. The teasing died back down again and they continued on for hours.

When they were ready to leave, Hunter pulled Logan aside. “I need your advice.”

“Oh? On what?”

“On Gretchen. I want to do something for her. Something that shows her how much I appreciate her.”

Logan gave him a wry smile. “Don’t buy her a diner.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just something I did for Brontë that backfired in my face. What did you have in mind?”

“Something . . . thoughtful. Not jewelry. She’s not a jewelry type.”

“Well, you dodged a bullet there,” Logan said. “Then again, jewelry makes it easy. Brontë’s not much of a jewelry type, either. Gets mad every time I try to buy her a necklace. The trick is you have to find something that you can do for her that no one else can.”

Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know what that would be. Property? It’s too much. Cars? Anyone can give her a car.” He didn’t share that he didn’t want to give her a car because he was afraid she’d spend her days driving away from the house. He liked that she was stuck there with him.

“You said she likes books, right?”

“She’s a ghostwriter.”

Logan shrugged. “There’s your answer. Something with books. Is she successful?”

Hunter considered this. “I don’t know. She writes astronaut books or some such.” It had seemed like an odd match to him—his silly, outspoken Gretchen writing overly masculine space pulp, but he didn’t question it.

“So buy them. Buy all of them.” Logan considered a new cigar, then put it down with a grimace. “I shouldn’t smoke this. Brontë doesn’t like the smell.”

“Buy all of them?” Hunter asked.

“All the books. Get her on the bestseller list or something. That would probably make her happy.”

The more Hunter thought about it, the more he liked the idea. “I’ll get Eldon on it right away.”

***

 

Hunter arrived home late that evening, his head slightly muzzy from cigar smoke and alcohol. He’d lost a fortune tonight at the table, but he couldn’t stop grinning. For the first time, he was able to smile when Reese told one of his ridiculous stories about women. He’d simply ignored comments about his own relationship without feeling excluded by the group.

For the first time, he didn’t feel like a freak amongst his friends—the scarred, lonely virgin.

Scarred, yes, but lonely and virgin? No longer.

He took off his tie and tossed it to the ground, then shrugged off his jacket even as he headed down the hall to his bedroom. His cock grew hard at the thought of Gretchen waiting for him in his bed. Gretchen, soft with sleep, her bright red hair spilling across his pillow. Would she be naked, waiting for him? Her legs slightly open? He imagined dipping his fingers between them and stroking her awake, thinking of the soft, aching cries she’d make when he touched her there.

Suddenly his pants were too constricting. He stripped off his clothes while moving steadily across his room to his bed.

The room was dark, but he knew—he just knew—that Gretchen would be there waiting for him. A faint light shone through the open window, and in the moonlight he could see a rumpled mess of covers in his normally immaculate bed. On one side of the bed, a small figure was curled up in sleep.

He moved toward the bed, heart aching at the sight. Such a wonderful, exquisite sight—he’d never thought to have so much. He thought he would always be alone, reviled. Now, he had a woman—such a perfect woman—waiting for him to come home so he could make love to her. Was life ever so sweet?

He noticed something shiny on the nightstand and moved to touch it. It was a crinkle of packets, and Hunter laughed. An entire strip of condoms had been left at the bedside. Wishful thinking indeed.

She sighed and he noticed she was wearing one of his shirts. Ah. His cock ached even harder at the sight. Hunter ripped one of the condoms out of the package and rolled it onto his cock, then moved to the edge of the bed.

Gretchen’s legs were bare and smooth, gleaming pale in the moonlight. They were slightly parted as she slept, revealing the cleft of her ass. No panties. Was she wearing anything other than his shirt? He groaned at the thought.

She rolled over and faced him, rubbing her eyes. “Hunter? Is that you?”

“Gretchen.” His voice was hoarse with need, even as he moved over her and began to kiss her jaw and throat. “I need you so badly.”

She moaned lightly, her legs spreading underneath him. “I was having dirty dreams about you,” she said. “Am I wet?”

He reached between her legs and groaned at the feeling of her. “Very wet.”

“Then come inside me,” she said in a soft, delicious voice.

Hunter didn’t need further encouraging. His fingers searched for the slick, warm opening and dipped a finger in as if to reassure himself that she was ready for him. He positioned his cock there and sank deep, freezing at her sharp intake of breath.

“Ah, that’s so good,” she breathed. Her legs wrapped around his hips and locked behind him. “Fuck me hard, Hunter.”

He groaned, her words making him frantic with need. He wouldn’t be able to go slow. Not this time, not with her so sweetly willing. He thrust, rough and hard, and then couldn’t stop himself. Over and over, he thrust into her, every rocking push forward shoving them across the bed. Her soft whimpers of pleasure became deep, wild cries, and her nails dug into his back.

“Hunter, oh, God, Hunter. Take me deep.” She raised her hips and lifted her legs a little, pushing them higher up his sides. “Keep pushing forward.”

He did, the force of his next thrust pushing her knees to her breasts.

She cried out in pleasure. “More!”

He did, giving her more. Every ounce of his being was determined to pound deep into her, to make it as good for her as it was for him—tight, hot, and oh so wet.

Her pussy seemed to shiver all around him, and then she cried out in surprise. “Oh! I’m coming!”

He exploded then, as if her orgasm had given him permission to release. With a sharp cry, Hunter came into her, clenching deep inside her pussy.

After a long moment of recovery, he rolled off her and stripped off the condom, tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. Then, he returned to the bed and pulled her close, unable to stop kissing her soft, perfect skin everywhere—the curve of her exposed shoulder, her neck, her hand, her dainty fingers.

“Mmm, did you miss me?” Gretchen asked sleepily, her backside snuggling up against his front. “It was a long evening without you.”

“I hope you got a lot of work done,” Hunter told her.

“Eh.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic.

“That’s too bad,” he told her, and bit lightly at her earlobe, a small move that he was starting to figure out that she enjoyed very much. Her sucked-in breath confirmed it. “I don’t plan on letting you get much sleep tonight.”

“Don’t you?” she asked, her voice a mixture of playfulness and sleepiness. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not when I’m around you.” His fingers slid to her nipple and he caressed it, eliciting a moan from her. “You bring me back to life.”

It was true. He felt alive when he was with her. Nothing else mattered anymore—his face, his loneliness—nothing. All that mattered was what Gretchen thought of him.

For the first time in his life, Hunter Buchanan was in love.

***

 

Gretchen paced in the library, her hand pressed to her forehead. “No. I promise. I need my apartment. I really do. I’m just doing a project on location at the moment.”

“Your rent is one week overdue, Ms. Petty,” her landlord said into the phone. “And we haven’t seen your check.”

“What if I give you a check today?” Gretchen kept her voice bright and cheerful. “I’ll call a taxi and head into the city. I’ll give you a check and I can date it for next week. I should have my contract payment by then.”

“Next week? Your rent was due last week.”

“I know! But I have the payment. I can pay the rest of the entire year with my next check, which should be in any day now. I promise. I can get my agent on the line if you don’t believe me, and she can confirm the dollar amount.”

“Your contract with us states that rent is due on the first. Not when you get paid.”

“I know. It’s just—”

There was a knock at the library door and Eldon came in, giving her a dour look. “You have a guest.”

“I . . . what?” She looked at him in surprise.

“A guest,” he enunciated, exaggerating each syllable as if she were some sort of nitwit. “A visitor.”

“Um, okay.” Into the phone, she said, “Can I call you back in five minutes?”

Her landlord hung up.

Well, shit. Surely they couldn’t change the locks in the next five minutes. She’d just call back after she got rid of whoever this was and explain that she could pay a big penalty fee if they’d just give her another week or so. Gretchen pocketed her phone and followed behind Eldon, who was already heading back down the hall.

Cooper stood in the front lobby of Buchanan Manor, a box in his hands. He was staring at the lofting ceilings and spiraling staircases of the entryway as if he’d just walked into a foreign land. It kicked her amusement into high gear. Had she looked as bug-eyed as he did when she’d walked in for the first time? How funny. “Cooper, what are you doing here?”

He lit up at the sight of her and set the box down. “Hey, Gretchen. There you are.” He held his arms out for a hug.

She moved into them and patted his back, returning the hug awkwardly. At any other time, she would think nothing of his hug. Now that she knew he was in love with her? It made things . . . strange.

“Audrey said you were having a hard time with your project. She said you’re behind on your deadline and was going to bring you a few things to help out. I told her I wasn’t busy and I’d stop by, and I thought I’d bring you a little care package from the Cuppa while I was at it.”

Had he held the hug for a little longer than was necessary or was she imagining things? Gretchen pulled out of his arms and smiled. “You’re a good friend, Coop. Did you bring me the brownie fudge mocha latte flavoring I love?”

“Of course.” He chuckled and picked up the box again, handing it to her. “You look great, by the way. How are you doing?”

“I’m awesome, of course,” Gretchen said cheerfully, juggling the box. “You want to come hang out in the kitchen for a bit?”

“I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” he said, and took the box from her. “Here, let me get that for you.”

She refused to release it, fighting annoyance. “I can carry my own boxes, Coop.”

“Yes, but men carry things for ladies.”

She snorted. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

He laughed at her teasing, throwing his hands up. “Fair enough. At least I tried.”

The box was deposited on the kitchen counter, and Gretchen put a pot of coffee on. When it was brewing and Cooper had taken a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen island, she opened the top of the box, peeking in. There were two smaller boxes inside, one with the Cooper’s Cuppa logo. She reached for the other, glancing at Cooper. “This is from Audrey?”

He nodded, though he couldn’t stop staring at their surroundings. “I can’t believe you’re staying here for an entire month. It’s like a castle.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, setting the box down and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Complete with creepy butler and everything.”

“I swear this could be something out of a movie,” he said with a grin. “Don’t tell me. The owner’s some Phantom of the Opera–style guy intent on sucking the blood of virgins.”

Gretchen spit out her coffee, coughing.

Cooper immediately got up, slapping her on the back. “You okay?”

“Just . . . breathed . . . wrong,” she said, coughing between words. It was kind of weird how close—and yet far away—Cooper had been with his guess.

After all, she was the one intent on the virgins around here.

With a weak smile, she opened the box Audrey had sent. Pink lace and black satin caught her eye and she immediately flipped it shut. Feigning ease, she pushed the box aside. “What did Audrey say she was sending me again?”

“Stress relievers, I think she said. Something to help things along.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee again. “She said you’d know what to do with it.”

It was clear he hadn’t looked in the box. “I have a pretty good idea, yeah.” At his inquisitive look, she lied, “Bath salts.”

“Ah. Girl stuff.”

“Definitely girl stuff.” And before she could giggle and ruin things, she pulled the other box out and pretended to sniff it. “I think I smell cookies.”

He grinned.

She flipped open the lid and sighed with pleasure. “Two dozen? You shouldn’t have.”

“And some toffee dream bars underneath, just in case you want a little variety.”

She pulled out the bags of cookies and smelled the bag of coffee beans that had been included. “You’re awesome, Cooper. I’m sure these cookies aren’t as good as mine, though.”

“They should be. It’s your recipe.” He was watching her with a soft, adoring look on his face. “I’ve missed seeing you, Gretchen. The Cuppa isn’t the same without your smiling face.”

And he reached across the counter to place his hand over hers.

Damn. It seemed they couldn’t even go a half hour anymore without things getting awkward. “Cooper . . .”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Gretchen.”

“Cooper—”

“No, please, let me say this.” His eyes were pleading. “It’s time I said this.”

The door to the kitchen opened. Hunter stalked in, a dashing figure in his neatly pressed, too-formal-for-around-the-house-but-he-wore-it-anyhow dark suit. He glowered at Cooper and his hand on Gretchen’s, then moved to Gretchen’s side and kissed her cheek, his arm sliding around her waist.

A very possessive, obvious gesture.

White-hot shock drained the blood from Cooper’s face. He turned white, then went blood red with embarrassment, staring at Hunter. “I—”

“Introduce us, Gretchen,” Hunter demanded, his gaze on Cooper even as he hovered possessively over her.

She ground her teeth. Well, hell. This had just gotten ugly fast. She slid her hand out from under Cooper’s and gave him a soft, apologetic smile. “Cooper, this is . . . Hunter. He owns Buchanan Manor.”

“Yes. The phantom intent on sucking the blood of virgins, I believe you said,” Hunter stated coldly.

Cooper’s face turned an alarming shade of purple. “Uh . . .”

“Thanks for bringing the box, Cooper.” She shut it to give her hands something to do and so she could quit staring at the many shades of awkward that Cooper’s face was turning. “This is going to be really helpful for my deadline.”

“Of course. Anything you need, I’m here for you.”

Hunter seemed to glower even more. “You don’t need to be here for her. I’m here for her.”

Gretchen inhaled sharply. This was going from bad to worse. “Since you’re here, Cooper—”

“Actually, I was just about to leave.” He got up hastily, the stool nearly falling over with his jerky movements.

“Oh, but I was wondering if you could take a check to my landlord—”

“He said he has to go,” Hunter said darkly. “I’ll take care of whatever you need, Gretchen.” His gaze moved over Cooper again. “He knows that.”

“I really should go,” Cooper said. He gestured at the door.

“Eldon will show you out.”

And the annoying butler was there a moment later, holding the door to the kitchen open. Cooper headed for it, but not before giving Gretchen a wounded look as he headed out the door.

“Thanks again, Cooper. You’re a good friend,” she called as he was escorted out. When the door swung shut again, she buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God, that went really badly.”

“Who was that?” Hunter asked, his voice stiff with fury.

“He’s a friend of mine.”

“He was trying to hit on you,” Hunter bit out. “His hand was on yours.”

“Not through any of my doing,” she admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to let him down easy.” She glanced at the kitchen door and felt a twinge of remorse. “Guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You didn’t tell him we were together?”

She tilted her head, giving Hunter an odd look. “Are we together, Hunter? You’ve never said and I didn’t want to presume.”

Shock crossed his face. “We had sex.”

“We had really great sex, Hunter. And I love having sex with you. But it doesn’t mean we’re together.”

The expression on his face looked shattered. “I . . . see.”

Why was he so upset at that? She was trying to give him an easy out. Here’s some casual sex with no strings attached. You’re welcome. Why was he so offended then? Most guys would be thrilled.

He turned away, and she noticed he was carefully hiding the scarred side of his face.

It hit her, then.

The phantom intent on sucking the blood of virgins, I believe you said.

He’d heard that. And she’d simply sputtered. She hadn’t defended him, or protested, and then to make matters worse, she’d just told him she wasn’t in this for a relationship.

No wonder he was acting wounded. “Hunter. That wasn’t what I meant.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Gretchen.” His voice was stiff and cold. “Spare me your excuses.”

“I’m not giving you excuses, you prickly jerk. I’m trying to tell you that if you don’t want to be with me, I understand. I’m not dumping you.”

He said nothing.

“Hunter!” she exclaimed, moving to his side and wrapping her arm around his waist. “I like you. I like you a lot. But I didn’t want to assume this was more than it was.”

“You let Cooper assume.”

“Cooper’s been my friend for years, and he’s my boss at the coffee shop I occasionally work at. I have to handle him with kid gloves, which isn’t easy when he’s trying to declare his love every five minutes. I’m not interested in him.”

Hunter’s dark eyes focused on her again, his gaze narrow and suspicious, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. “Answer me truthfully, Gretchen. Are you interested in me?”

“Now that’s a silly question,” she teased, tugging on his jacket sleeve. When he didn’t relax, she realized how deadly serious he was. No amount of teasing was going to ease this situation. And for a moment, Gretchen felt uneasy. Like she was stepping into raw territory. For some reason, it was very important that she not hurt Hunter. She didn’t want to hurt him more than anything. “I like you more than I should,” she admitted quietly. “Someone like you doesn’t really belong with someone like me, but I can’t seem to stop myself when I’m with you. I want to kiss you until you’re blushing, and grab your ass every time I walk past, and do dirty, lascivious things to you.”

The stiffness in his gaze receded a bit. He regarded her for a long moment, and then his hand tightened on her waist and he pulled her against him for a hard, breathless kiss.

“Someone like you is better than what someone like me deserves,” he said gruffly.

She frowned a bit at that—she’d been talking about money and station in life. But it was clear he couldn’t see past his face. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“I speak from experience, Gretchen. You’re the only woman who’s ever looked at me and not been revolted.”

Her hand caressed his scarred cheek, and she brushed her thumb over his lower lip. “Shall I show you just how un-revolted I am by you?”

He growled low in his throat. “You should.”

She glanced around at the empty kitchen, then grinned mischievously. “Does the door to this room lock?”

“No.”

She shrugged and began to slide backward onto the kitchen island. “Then you’d better hope Eldon doesn’t walk in on us.”


Date: 2015-02-03; view: 510


<== previous page | next page ==>
Chapter 7 | Chapter 9
doclecture.net - lectures - 2014-2024 year. Copyright infringement or personal data (0.023 sec.)