Page 50 of Burden of Proof

“Good timing,” he said, adjusting a leather strap over his shoulder. “I was running late.”

I let out a weak laugh, scrubbing a hand down my face.

“You okay?” he asked.

I unlatched my seatbelt and moved to get out of the car, instead my feet landed on the concrete and my elbows landed on my knees. Cradling my head in my hands, I took some deep breaths that did little to steady me. I needed…

I needed…

Hunter dropped into a squat in front of me, his fingers raking through my hair over and over again until I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against his shoulder.

This was what I needed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, breath hot against my ear.

“Nothing.”

Because in that very moment, it was true. Nothing was wrong when I was with Hunter. It was all the hours I wasn’t with him when everything felt unmanageable. Admitting that out loud felt grossly codependent, so I swallowed the thought back into the pit of my stomach.

“This doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“I didn’t film today,” I said.

It was a start.

“That’s okay,” he said, fingers still sliding through strands of my hair before ghosting down the back of my neck. “Let’s talk, Lincoln. But upstairs, okay? More comfortable.”

He stood up and helped me out of the car, pulled my keys out of my hand to lock the door, then walked me to the elevator. We stood close, shoulders touching, but he didn’t ask me anything else. I took the short ride to study our reflections in the closed doors of the elevator car. Hunter in his slacks and shirt and tie, me in my jeans and crop top, my messy hair and my piercings. There’d never been two people more different, but the elevator doors opened as soon as I thought it, and the mirror images of us were gone.

Still in silence, Hunter walked me to the front door of his apartment and unlocked the door. We both stepped over the threshold and as soon as the door closed behind us, Hunter was on his knees at my feet. With a low hum, he rubbed his cheek against the outside of my thigh and started to pluck at the laces of my shoes.

He did look good on his knees.

“What do you need?” he murmured, hands skating up the backs of my thighs once he finished with my shoes.

There wasn’t a single thing I needed more than what I had. Hunter on his knees in front of me, his mouth inches from my cock. This was the only thing I’d ever wanted, and it all made sense when we were together.

“Just you,” I answered. “I need to be able to tell people about you, though. I feel like?—”

He cut me off, tipping his head back. Even in the low light of his hallway, I could see the way his pupils had dilated into big, black pools that nearly obscured his irises.

“I told Marshall today. He already knew, but…”

I swallowed hard, understanding there didn’t need to be any further explanation. He knew in the way Silas knew, even if I’d tried to pretend Silas didn’t know.

“When are you going to tell Smith?” I asked.

“Friday,” he said.

“I can’t avoid him for a week,” I said, taking Hunter’s face into my hands.

“Tomorrow,” he corrected, and I wanted to cry for how quickly and simply this man understood me.

“Okay.”

Hunter smiled, nuzzling his cheek into my palm.

“What else do you need?”