Page 27

Quickly, I jump to the other side of the bed and open the drawer.

“She’s offering all of those players for me? No, I know it’s not a done deal but… Have you talked to Kauffman yet?” I hear him ask his agent.

I’m running out of time, and I have to run past him to get to the bathroom door.

I spin around, my pink vibrator in my hand and head straight for the bathroom, almost home free while he stays distracted.

“Not yet? Okay, but you’ll tell me if the Hawkeyes seem like they are entertaining the deal? Right, okay, thanks for calling,” he tells him.

He ends the call just as I’m about to pass him and then he spins around, hearing me coming.

“Where do you think you’re going with that?” he asks.

Just before I get past him, he scoops an arm around my ribs and hauls me up his body, pulling me to the end of the bed, seating me on his lap, facing the full-length mirror against the wall.

He uses his thighs to nudge mine apart, spreading me open in front of the mirror.

The reflection shows everything—my flushed skin, my parted lips, the way I’m sitting on top of him, completely bare, my thighs spread wide over the thick outline of his boxer-covered cock.

My nipples are tight, my breathing shallow, and my pussy lips gleam under the low light like I’ve already surrendered.

And I have.

God, I have.

Hunter’s arms wrap around me from behind, holding me steady, his chest solid against my back. I can feel every controlled breath he takes, every twitch of restraint beneath me.

“You see that?” he murmurs, voice thick. “That’s what I see every time I close my eyes. You—wet, open, wrapped around me, begging for more, but I never thought you’d let me get this close.”

His words burn with honesty. There’s nowhere to hide. Not from the way I shift on his lap. Not from the slick shine between my thighs. Not from him—not from myself.

His gaze rakes over every inch of me, dark and possessive. “Look at you, Peyton. Dripping for me because you know I’m right here—my attention focused on only you—wanting you. Ready to fuck you with my fingers while you watch me do it.”

He leans in, his voice a growl at my ear. “Your body should be worshipped…by me.”

My breath catches.

My fingers curl tighter around the vibrator.

“Were you planning to run from me and use this instead?” he asks, prying it gently from my grip.

I swallow hard. “You were busy, and I didn’t want to—”

He cuts me off, voice low and razor sharp.

“And you were going to rob me of hearing you come with my fingers buried inside you? When I starred in your dirty little dreams? That doesn’t seem fair.”

My skin heats. I can’t look away from the mirror, from the way he’s behind me now—partially clothed, fully in control—while I’m trembling and bare.

“This will make everything between us messy,” I whisper. I don’t even know what I mean anymore. The vibrator? The situation? Me?

His smirk is slow and dangerous as his fingers trail down my inner thigh. “Oh, baby, your wet pussy is already making everything between us messy, and I want it that way.”

He meets my eyes in the mirror. “But the real question is—do you want to do this alone? Or with me?” His fingers hover. Barely there. Teasing.

My breath stutters. My thoughts are static.

I should say no.

I should walk away.

But I don’t. Because my body already made the choice.

I turn my head slightly, voice a whisper of confession. “With you.”

A smile stretches across his face. “Then the next question. Do you want me to use this?” he asks with the vibrator in his hand. “Or do you want my fingers? The choice is yours. I don’t care either way…as long as I’m the one making you come in my lap.”

“Your fingers.”

Hunter grins, happy with my answer. “Good choice,” he says, and then tosses the vibrator back on the bed. “Now lay back, relax…and watch.”

I do as he instructs, leaning back fully into him, my head falling back against his shoulder.

One hand glides up my stomach, cupping my breast, while the other traces the curve of my hip. His fingers slip between my thighs—slow, teasing, in complete control. My breath catches when a knuckle grazes my clit, the touch so light it steals the air from my lungs.

“Keep your eyes open, Collins,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice molten and low. “Watch what I do to you.”

I do. God help me, I do.

The mirror reflects everything—my flushed skin, my pebbling nipples, my parted lips, the way my body arches into his hands like it’s not even mine anymore. Like it’s his.

His palm spreads across my lower stomach, grounding me, while his fingers start to move with more purpose. Each stroke is patient but filthy, circling and sliding, never giving quite enough but driving me wild all the same.

“Hunter…” My voice is barely a whisper, thick with need.

He presses a kiss to the side of my neck, his lips dragging heat down to my collarbone.

“You feel how close you already are?” he asks, his thumb flicking gently across the bundle of nerves that’s now throbbing. “This is what you wanted, right? You were going to slip away to finish on your own?”

My head drops back onto his shoulder, a whimper escaping me. “Yes.”

“Say it. Say why you tried to run.”

“Because I want you.” The words fall from me in a breathless rush. “I wanted this.”

“Damn right, you do,” he growls, his hand quickening.

The mirror blurs through my lashes, moisture beading at the corners of my eyes. My hips start to move, rolling against his hand, chasing the edge he’s pulling me toward with infuriating control.

“That’s it,” he whispers, voice low and reverent like he’s watching something sacred. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Open and wild for me.”

I grind harder, my body rocking against the hard length of him. He groans, his mouth brushing my ear before pressing a kiss just below it.

“Look at how you melt for me,” he murmurs, his voice a warm scrape against my skin. “You’re soaking my fingers, Peyton. Dripping all over my lap.”

A strangled moan escapes me. My hand reaches up, curling around the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin like I need him to keep me grounded, tethered to this moment.

“Don’t stop—Hunter, please—don’t stop…”

“Never,” he promises, his voice dark silk. “I want to watch you fall apart for me, and you’re going to watch it too.”

And I do.

With one final stroke, he presses deep, curling his fingers inside me just as his thumb presses hard and fast against my clit. The orgasm rips through me, white-hot and staggering, my body jerking in his lap as my head tips forward, a cry strangled in my throat, his name slipping off my lips.

He cradles me there, breathing just as ragged as mine, as if watching me fall apart stole every ounce of his control.

He holds me, his mouth on my shoulder, whispering things I can’t even process.

When I finally collapse back against him, trembling and gasping, I catch sight of myself in the mirror—flushed, wrecked, utterly undone—and his gaze locked on me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“That was…” I start, trying to catch my breath.

Hunter leans in, his nose nuzzling behind my ear. “That was…better than a dream, wasn’t it?”

I can’t even answer. My brain is mush, my limbs liquid.

But deep down, I know the truth.

This is more than just chemistry. More than just need.

And I hope this didn’t just ruin everything.

Because once you let someone this close—this intimately close—how do you pretend it didn’t happen?

"I can’t believe we did that."

His arms tighten slightly. "I can’t believe it took us this long."

I laugh, breathless. It’s the only sound I can make without crumbling all over again.

But then, just like that, the room shifts.

Reality creeps back in.

He shifts me, until he has me in a cradle hold and carries me to my side of the bed, setting me down, and then pulls the covers over me.

"This doesn’t change anything, right?" I ask, voice quiet.

He nods, brushing a damp strand of hair off my cheek, then bends down to kiss the top of my head. "Not a thing,” he mutters against my hair.

But we both know that’s a lie.

I stare at his still-hard cock, straining against his boxers, drenched from me. "What about you?"

I’ve never been one to leave a man hanging that I was intimate with. I can only imagine that he's hard enough that it's painful.

"Don't worry about me. That’s not what we agreed to.

I'm going to use the guest bathroom and take a quick shower before I hit the stadium. I’ll take care of it," he says, grabbing his phone off the bed and then turning to walk out of the bedroom.

"I'll see you later, right?”"Yeah," I nod. "I'll see you later."

He walks out, shutting the door behind him.

I sit there, almost in disbelief at what just happened. And then I find myself holding my breath when I hear the hallway bathroom door close and then the shower turn on.

Can't blame a girl for wishing to be a fly on that wall.