Page 32

Hunter turns, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

"Car wash, of course. It's Sunday, and I've missed the last three.

I was cleaning my truck while I was waiting for you to get home to wash yours.

" He gestures to my car, which still has some snow on it from when I was parked outside of Serendipity's Coffee Shop. "Figured I'd better make up for it."

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips as I approach him. "In this weather? And in a Speedo?"

He shrugs, the movement drawing my gaze to the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. "What can I say? I'm a man of my word."

He turns to show me his ass, and I just about swallow my own tongue when I notice that it’s a thong. Dear God, this man has the best ass I’ve ever seen, even though it’s hairier than in my dreams.

I must look like I’ve frozen solid in the December weather because I stop blinking.

Hunter grins, wide and wicked. “Stop looking at me like a piece of meat. Unless you plan to eat me later.”

“I think you just turned me into a vegetarian.”

He chuckles and then lobs a sponge at me. It hits me square in the chest, a slap of icy suds soaking through my coat.

I gasp, stumbling back a step, my mouth hanging open. "Hunter Reed, you did not just—"

He cuts me off with a cocky shrug, already reaching for the bucket. “You just wounded me. An eye for an eye.”

I narrow my eyes, a spark of mischief catching fire. “You’re going to regret that.”

Before he can react, I snatch the other sponge from the ground and hurl it at him. It nails him right in the thigh, water exploding in all directions.

“Oh, it’s on, Collins,” he growls, laughter rumbling in his chest.

I turn and run in the opposite direction, squealing as he chases me around his truck.

What follows is pure chaos.

We chase each other around the yard like two overgrown kids, slipping on patches of frozen grass, shouting ridiculous threats. Hunter ducks behind the truck just as I whip a half-full sponge at him, but it bounces off the side mirror and smacks him in the shoulder anyway.

“Nice aim,” he calls. “Maybe you should try out for the team.”

“Maybe I should replace you,” I shout back, scooping a handful of snow for the smallest snowball in history and flinging it in his direction.

He yelps when I make contact with his skin, though it was barely enough to cause any damage.

“Oh, that’s low, Collins!” He grabs a second bucket—where the hell did that come from?—and launches a wave of sudsy water at me. It soaks my leggings down to my socks.

I squeal, slipping as I try to dodge, arms flailing like a drunk baby deer.

Hunter’s laughing so hard he can barely stand.

“Truce, truce!” I gasp, holding my arms up like I’m surrendering.

“No chance. If you think you can replace me, let’s see how well you block,” he says, kicking off his Crocs, and then charges at me.

He catches me around the waist and lifts me off the ground like I weigh nothing. I squeal again, laughing so hard it hurts as he spins me in a circle. Then he pulls me into the cover of the garage and drops us both onto my old queen mattress still living in here from where the movers put it.

We collapse together in a heap, breathless and soaked, our laughter fading into something heavier.

Hunter’s body presses against mine, pinning me gently to the cold mattress. But I don’t feel the cold. All I feel is him. His hard cock rubbing between my thighs, sending sparks to my clit. Thank God I wore leggings today.

The space between us shrinks until there’s barely a breath of air left.

His lips find mine, his hand trailing down along the curve of my jaw, his touch featherlight, sending shivers racing down my spine.

His voice is rough against my lips. "You’re so beautiful," he murmurs. "Sometimes it fucking hurts to look straight at you…like you’re the goddamn sun."

My heart thumps against my chest so hard it almost hurts.

"How do you do that?" I whisper, dizzy from the heat building between us.

“Do what?”

My hands glide up his chest, feeling the hard lines of him, his skin burning hot even after being bare to the freezing air. “Say all the right things.”

"Because I mean them," he mutters. "You’re shivering. I need to get you inside."

He leans in, pressing his forehead gently to mine. For a second, we just breathe each other in, the world narrowing down to his hands gripping my waist.

Before I can reply, he scoops me into his arms and strides toward the mudroom door. The house is dim and quiet around us, the cold left behind with the slam of the door.

Inside the laundry room, it all unravels.

A flurry of movement begins as Hunter helps me out of my damp, freezing clothes, hands caressing and exploring—until I’m down to my bra and panties, and he’s stripped bare—no thong left in sight.

His hands move over me, rough and reverent all at once, and then he lifts me again, setting me down atop the rattling dryer.

The vibrations instantly jolt through me, a shocking, delicious thrum that makes me gasp and arch into him.

His lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat.

I tilt my head back, giving him more, my fingers tangling in his hair as a shaky moan slips free.

Hunter’s hands find my hips, and with a low growl, he bends me forward, pressing me into the rumbling dryer.

The steady vibration throbs against my clit, pulling a gasp from my lips as heat floods my core.

My eyes flutter closed, my body arching instinctively into the sensation, every nerve ending coming alive under his touch.

His lips curve against my skin. “How good does that feel, Peyton?”

I shudder against him, pressing closer. “It’s driving me crazy...I need more.”

His hands tighten around my hips, anchoring me as the dryer hum buzzes against my core, each vibration making my pulse race harder.

“How much more?” he asks, his voice a low, rough rasp against my ear.

I slide one hand down between us, cupping the hard length of him that’s settled heavy and hot against my lace panties. His entire body jerks at the contact.

“What if we forget rule number one?” I whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just for tonight. I want all of you, Hunter. Right now.”

“I told you Collins, I’m yours for whatever you want until this deal is over. If you want me, you can have me. All of me.”

His fingers slide around my hips, slow and sure, before he lifts me off the dryer and into his arms like I’m something fragile he can’t afford to drop.

I melt against him, my heart hammering as he carries me toward the hallway without breaking eye contact.

"Where are we going?" I ask, feigning disappointment. "I liked the dryer."

He smirks, brushing a kiss against my mouth before pulling back just enough to lock me in place with a look that’s pure sin.

"Now that I’ve got a one-night hall pass on our rules..." he says, his hands flexing against my ass, sending a pulse straight to my core, "I’m taking you to the shower, Collins—because you and I are about to make a fucking mess out of this little body you just handed over to me."

His eyes drag over the soaked fabric of my bra clinging to my skin, and a heated flush spreads across my chest. He licks his lips.

My body.

His to touch, to ruin, just for tonight.

I swear my whole body vibrates harder than the damn dryer we just left behind.

But I lift my chin anyway, meeting his dark, hungry gaze with a slow, wicked smile. "Then what are you waiting for, Reed?" I whisper. "Make a mess."

He carries me to the hallway shower and closes the door. In the bathroom, he backs me against the tile wall, his hands slipping beneath the last scraps of my clothing. The water splashes cold when he reaches in to turn the shower on, and he grimaces when the icy spray hits him—but he doesn’t stop.

He’s too busy stripping off my bra and panties like he’s starving for the feel of me.

His mouth crashes back onto mine, stealing the words from my lips. His tongue dips inside, deep and hungry, just as he spins me under the warm spray as the water finally heats.

I gasp against him, my frozen body coming alive under the dual assault of the hot water and his scorching kiss.

My hand slides down, finding him—hard, hot, and ready—and I wrap my fingers around his cock, giving a teasing squeeze.

He groans into my mouth, bucking against my hand.

“Slow down, Peyton,” he warns, his voice tight with strain. “Or I’ll come all over your hand.”

I smirk against his lips, feeling a rush of power that’s heady and electric.

"Then take me already," I whisper, my voice raw with need.

The steam rises thick around us, turning the world soft and hazy as Hunter lifts me again, pinning me against the tile, his mouth trailing down my throat, my collarbone, lower still.

The vibrations of the dryer are a ghost of a memory now—nothing compared to the pulse building low in my belly, the throbbing need only he can ease.

His hands roam every inch of my body with slow passes—mapping me, worshiping me, like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered.

“Hunter...” I breathe, nails scraping lightly down his back, my entire body quivering for him.

He groans, hips rocking between my thighs as he holds me up, his hardness sliding between us, pressing low against my belly.

“God, Peyton...you feel so fucking good.”

The water rushes over us, the heat from the spray mixing with the furnace of our bodies. Our kisses turn desperate again, needy, like we’re both chasing the same inevitable crash.

Hunter curses softly under his breath, tearing his mouth from mine. "Don’t move," he growls, voice wrecked. "Condom."

I shiver from the loss of his heat, wrapping my arms around myself even with the hot water pounding down around me. He jumps out of the shower, searching the bathroom for a condom, the sound of a zipper, and then the sound of a foil being ripped open.

The sight of him—water dripping off his hair, muscles flexing as he rolls the condom down his thick length, the sheer focus in his eyes—nearly undoes me.

Before I can even think, he’s crowding back into my space.

He lifts me again, pressing me up against the cold tile, and this time there’s no hesitation.

Our mouths crash together, hot and clumsy and hungry.

One strong arm bands around my lower back, holding me up with almost no effort, while the other grips the back of my thigh, hitching my leg higher around his hip.

I wrap myself around him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more him.

Then I feel him—hot, hard, perfect—nudging at my entrance.

He pulls back just enough to catch my gaze, his forehead resting against mine, breathing ragged.

"Last chance, Peyton," he rasps, his voice breaking around my name. "Tell me to stop if you want me to."

I shake my head wildly, digging my fingers into his wet hair.

"I don't want you to stop," I whisper. "I need you."

That’s all he needs.

Hunter thrusts forward in one long, hard stroke, sinking into me inch by inch until he’s seated fully inside.

I cry out, the stretch almost too much, almost too good, my head falling back against the tile with a soft thud.

He groans low and brutal, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"Fuck...you’re so tight."

The first few thrusts are slow, deep, like he’s savoring every second, every pulse and squeeze of my body around his. Each push drives me higher, winding me tighter, until I’m panting against his mouth, clawing at his shoulders.

“Hunter—please—”

Whatever control he had snaps.

He braces one hand beside my head, the other gripping my thigh to hold me open for him, and starts moving faster—harder—his hips slamming into mine with desperate, relentless rhythm.

The sound of skin-on-skin echoes under the spray of the water, the wet slap of our bodies colliding filling the steamy, fogged-up shower.

Every time he thrusts, it knocks a ragged moan out of me, my nails dragging down his back as I cling to him.

The pressure builds fast, almost unbearable, my entire body tightening, spiraling, trembling against him.

Hunter's hand slides between us, his thumb circling my clit in fast, devastating little strokes that send shockwaves through my entire system.

"Come for me, Peyton," he demands, his voice breaking against my ear. "I want to feel you fall apart around me."

One more thrust, one more rough swirl of his thumb—and I shatter.

Pleasure detonates through me, white-hot and overwhelming, my entire body locking up around him.

I cry out his name, my thighs clenching around his hips as my climax rips through me, violent and unstoppable.

Hunter follows a second later with a guttural curse, driving into me one last time as he buries himself deep, spilling into the condom as his body shudders against mine.

For a long, breathless moment, we stay tangled together, hearts hammering, the spray of the water washing over us like a blessing.

His forehead drops to my shoulder, his hands still gripping me like he’s afraid to let go.

Slowly, Hunter pulls back just enough to press a kiss to my collarbone, then my jaw, then finally my lips—this one slow, tender.

When he finally sets me down on shaky legs, his arms stay wrapped around me, steadying me, like he knows I’m still trying to remember how to stand.

He leans in, his voice rough but laced with something suspiciously close to wonder. "When does my hall pass expire?" he asks, his breath warm against my ear.

"By sunrise. Tomorrow morning," I tell him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Hunter grins and reaches out past the shower curtain, grabbing a towel off the rack. He wraps it around me and then slings one low around his hips.

"Really? I get you for the rest of the day and all night?"

I nod, but hearing it said out loud has me nibbling my lip, suddenly second-guessing how wide open I left the invitation.

He claps his hands once, rubbing them together with a gleam in his eye.

"Damn, do I have plans for you."

Before I can ask, he turns and strides out the bathroom door, leaving me blinking after him.

"Where are you going?" I call out, still clutching the towel tight around me.

"To get my phone," he yells back casually. "I'm ordering food and snacks. Neither of us is leaving this house until sunrise, Collins. Thai or pizza?"

I follow the sound of his voice into the hallway, peeking around the corner toward the kitchen.

"Pizza, I guess? But, you’re worried about food?"

He pops his head out from behind the fridge, phone already in hand, looking like the hottest, most dangerous distraction ever with just a towel barely hanging on.

"This is going to be a sex marathon, Peyton. We’re going to need sustenance. And a chick flick. Find something good on TV while I order."

"We’re watching a movie now?" I tease, grinning despite myself.

"You’re getting the full Reed experience," he says, grinning back like he knows exactly how much trouble I’m in. "Romancing and all. Hope you’re prepared, Collins."

And that's when it hits me.

I'm not prepared.

Not even a little bit.