Page 18 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

My chest tightens. I should look away, but his gaze anchors me, pulling the words to my throat.

“It was the night everything broke,” I whisper, fingers twisting the hem of my t-shirt. “My dad’s gala. All glitter and orchids and lies. That’s where it started.”

Hunter doesn’t interrupt. He just leans forward, forearms braced on his knees, like he’s willing to hold the silence as long as it takes.

“My brother, Nathan he saw her that night. Sofia. One of Dad’s assistants, except she wasn’t just that. She walked in wearing silk and diamonds, holding the hand of a girl. Fifteen years old. Penelope. His daughter. My… half-sister.”

The word still feels poisoned in my mouth.

Hunter’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t speak. His stillness tells me to keep going.

“Nathan lost it. In front of everyone—investors, board members, Mum. He called Dad out, said he wouldn’t stay silent anymore.” My throat burns. “I’ve never seen him so angry. And when he stormed out, I followed.”

The memory crashes back, marble floors, whispered gasps, the cold slap of night air.

“He was drunk,” I force the words through the tightness in my chest. “Too much whisky. He wanted to drive, but I wouldn’t let him. I made him give me the keys. Told him if he wanted to leave, fine but not like that.”

My hands shake. I tuck them under my thighs, but it doesn’t stop the tremor.

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” The words are jagged, raw. “But the brakes—they weren’t right. I felt it the second we pulled away. Too soft. Too slow.”

Hunter’s brows draw tight, but he stays quiet, letting me bleed it out.

“And then—” My voice splinters. The fox frozen in the headlights, the slam of the pedal dropping uselessly beneath my foot. “I tried to stop. I couldn’t. The wheel went. The world just—” My hand jerks through the air, helpless.

The memories pile one on top of the other until my chest feels like it’s caving in.

“There were sirens. People shouting. I remember the glass cutting into my skin, the taste of blood in my mouth. I remember them pulling me out, strapping me to a gurney.” My throat cracks.

“And Nathan… Nathan was still in the car.”

Hunter’s hand tightens on mine, but I can’t stop now.

“They took us both to the hospital. I kept asking if he was okay. I thought he had to be, because he was Nathan. He was bigger than life, louder than life. He always walked away.” Tears blur my vision. “But he didn’t. They said he was dead on arrival. He never even had a chance.”

The words shatter, ripping out of me like they’ve been trapped too long.

Silence follows, unbearable. My lungs scrape against my ribs, desperate for air.

Hunter moves then, slow and deliberate, closing the space between us on the sofa. His hand finds mine, rough palms grounding trembling fingers. He doesn’t say it wasn’t my fault. He doesn’t feed me lies. He just holds on, thumb brushing circles into my skin until the shaking eases.

And for the first time since that night, I let myself fall into the unknown telling the truth out loud and bracing for what it will cost me.

Hunter doesn’t let go. He just wraps me against him, strong arms caging me in while the tears fall. They soak his t-shirt, streak my face hot and raw, but his chest stays steady under my cheek.

For once, he doesn’t tease. Doesn’t smirk. He just holds me like keeping me together matters more than breathing.

When my sobs ease into shudders, his hand slides through my hair, gentle, careful. His voice is low when it comes.

“My dad didn’t make it to the hospital either,” he murmurs. “Three years ago. He was closing up the shop late—some masked bastard jumped him in the alley. Stabbed him, left him bleeding out on the concrete.”

My breath catches. I shift enough to see his face, but his gaze is somewhere far away.

“They got him to the hospital, but it was too late. Too much blood loss. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” His jaw flexes, teeth gritting against something heavier than words. “My mum couldn’t take it. Packed up, left Maplewood, never came back. Haven’t heard from her since.”

I reach for his hand without thinking. His fingers tighten around mine, rough and sure.

“So it’s just been me. No siblings. No family left here. Just the garage, the house, and a whole lot of silence.”

He exhales, a rough sound scraping through the quiet. “Guess that’s why I don’t let many people in, princess. Lose enough, and you stop wanting to risk it.”

The ache in my chest shifts, tangled now with his. My tears slow, but my grip on him doesn’t. Two broken pieces pressed together, not whole, but closer than we were minutes ago.

“I guess we’re both broken then,” I whisper.

Hunter pulls back just enough to cup my face in his rough, grease-stained hands. His touch is firm but careful, tilting my head until I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes burn steady into mine, every word fierce.

“We’re not broken, princess,” he says, low and certain. “We’re strong. And we’ll get through this just like we get through every day. One day at a time.”

The words cut straight through me. For so long I’ve seen him as the cocky mechanic with the easy smirk and fast hands, the boy who always had something reckless to say. But here, now, I see the man under it. Steady. Solid. Carrying his own ruins and still holding me up when mine feel too heavy.

Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in. My lips brush his, tentative but certain, desperate for something real after all the lies and ghosts.

Hunter freezes. His hands stay cradling my face, but he doesn’t move closer. His forehead rests against mine, breath ragged. “You’re upset,” he murmurs, voice raw.

“Yes, I do.” My voice shakes, but the truth in it doesn’t. “You’re wrong, Hunter. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a while now… I just didn’t want to admit it.”

His eyes search mine, testing every word. Whatever he finds there, it makes something in his chest ease, and the hesitation cracks.

Hunter tilts my face higher, thumbs brushing away the damp traces of my tears. Then he closes the space.

The kiss is different this time. Not rushed, not reckless. His lips move slow against mine, sure and steady, like he’s memorising me one breath at a time. Heat coils low in my stomach, threaded with something deeper.

When his tongue slides against mine, it’s unhurried, deliberate, a slow claiming that makes my skin prickle. My fingers tangle in his t-shirt, tugging him closer until his body is flush with mine. He groans low in his throat, the sound sparking straight through me.

I nip at his bottom lip, and he answers in kind, teeth catching just enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue. It’s hot, yes, but it’s grounding too—the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world fall away.

At some point, I don’t notice the shift only that I’m straddling him, knees pressed into the sofa cushions on either side of his body. His hands grip my waist, holding on like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

The kiss deepens, hotter now, less careful. My gasp breaks it when I feel him hard, insistent against my thigh. His cock, straining, hot even through his overalls.

Hunter groans, a raw sound torn from his chest. “Princess…” It’s a warning, but his hands are already gripping my hips, keeping me pressed to him.

I roll my hips once, testing. The friction is delicious rough cotton against the thin fabric of my shorts, my clit catching on every ridge. Heat shoots through me.

“Fuck,” he growls, head dropping back. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Yes, I do.” My voice is husky, breathless. I grind again, slower, dragging it out. “And I like it.”

His laugh is broken, dangerous. His hips snap up, grinding back, harder this time, making me cry out. “And you’re gonna be the death of me.”

The kiss turns messy, hungry, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. My hands fist in his t-shirt, pulling him closer, while his grip drags me against him exactly where he wants me. The friction builds, hotter with every roll of my hips.

“Princess,” he groans, voice cracking. “Jesus you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s the idea,” I pant, rocking harder now, chasing the edge.

He curses, thrusting up to meet me, each sharp grind pulling a broken sound from his chest. I can feel him pulsing beneath me, the wet mess already spreading between us, every drag filthier than the last.

And then he shudders, grip bruising my hips as he comes, hard, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. His body jerks beneath me as he buries his face in my neck like he can’t bear me to see him undone.

I keep moving, chasing my own release, grinding through the mess until my thighs are trembling. Heat coils tight in my belly, pressure snapping until I cry out, clinging to him as my body shakes apart.

When it fades, I collapse against him, sweaty, breathless, lips swollen. His chest heaves under mine, his cock still twitching in the sticky mess.

I press a kiss to his jaw, smug through the haze. “Guess you’re not as cocky as you thought. I just made you cum without even touching you.”

Hunter chuckles, still wrecked, still holding me like I might slip away. His voice is rough, reverent. “Careful, princess. Round two’s coming and then I promise you’ll be the one begging.”

His chest is still heaving when he suddenly shifts, sliding an arm under my thighs, the other bracing my back.

“Hunter—” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing.

“Bed,” he mutters, voice rough. “Can’t do this to you on the sofa, princess. You deserve more than that.”

My heart pounds as he carries me down the hall, every step steady. When he nudges my bedroom door open with his foot and lays me down on the mattress, it’s with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.

He hovers for a breath, eyes dark, lips swollen. Then he bends, pressing a slow kiss to my mouth before trailing lower across my jaw, down my throat, teeth scraping lightly until I shiver.

His hands are everywhere, warm and rough, slipping down my body as his lips follow. He pushes my shirt higher, kissing across my stomach, nipping until I squirm. By the time he reaches the waistband of my shorts, I’m trembling.

Hunter sits back on his knees, hands braced on either side of my hips. His eyes burn into mine. “Tell me I can, princess,” he rasps. “Tell me I can take these off.”

My breath catches, but I nod, words spilling out shaky and certain. “Yes.”

His grin is wrecked and wicked. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband, easing them down over my hips, slow, deliberate. He doesn’t rush. My panties are still on thin, damp, clinging but he only tosses the shorts aside.

Instead, he takes my ankle, pressing a kiss there, soft and reverent, before moving higher over my calf, the inside of my knee. My breath stutters as he spreads my thighs wider, lips teasing higher with each slow kiss.

By the time his mouth hovers over the inside of my thigh, I’m shaking, every nerve screaming for more. His teeth nip lightly, just enough to sting, before his tongue soothes the mark.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs against my skin, voice rough. “Shaking already, and I haven’t even taken these off yet.” His fingers brush the edge of my panties, deliberately teasing, not crossing the line.

The heat in my belly twists tighter. I arch toward him, desperate, but he only smirks, kissing higher, closer, without giving me what I want.

Hunter kisses me again through the thin cotton, lips firm and deliberate. The wet heat of his mouth makes me jolt.

A broken sound tears out of me, half gasp, half moan. He lingers, breath hot against the fabric, before pressing in firmer like he’s already claiming what’s underneath. My hips lift without my permission.

Hunter pulls back just enough to look up, eyes dark, voice wrecked. “Fuck…” he mutters, low and rough. “You’re already soaked for me.”

The words ripple through me, filthy and certain. My hands fist in the sheets, every nerve straining toward him as his mouth works lazily against me, teasing, testing, making me unravel without ever skin to skin.

He kisses me again, lips hard against the cotton, pressure sharp enough to make me whimper.

Before I can respond, his fingers hook at the edge of my panties. Slow. Deliberate. He doesn’t peel them off just slides the fabric to the side, baring me to his mouth.

Cool air hits me, and then he leans in, so close his nose brushes my bare, aching cunt. He drags it up the length of me, slow and deliberate, inhaling deep like he’s memorising my scent.

My body jolts, every nerve sparking white-hot.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. My mind screams, wild and desperate. He’s not just kissing me, not just teasing he’s breathing me in, worshipping me with every inhale.

Hunter groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin. “God damn, princess. You smell like sin.” His tongue flicks out once, lazy, just enough to make me cry out, before he noses at me again, greedy, filthy, reverent.

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. The only thought left in my head is his mouth, his scent, his voice and how completely he owns me in this moment.