Page 51 of Burden of Proof

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way my throat clicked when I opened my mouth to speak. “I need everything to be as easy without you as it is with you.”

He hummed, kissing the heel of my hand. “When are you without me?”

“Earlier today.”

Hunter frowned, almost a parody.

“Are we together, Lincoln?” he asked, jaw working back and forth. “Should I call you Sir when I’m down here?”

“Definitely not.”

“Are we together?” he asked again. “Just us?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek but managed to answer him with a tight nod.

“That doesn’t feel like we’re ever without each other then.”

I wanted to be angry because the comment felt so dismissive of the way it actually did feel to be without him, but it was impossible to muster the necessary rage to do so when I stared down at Hunter’s wide and earnest eyes.

“That’s fair,” I agreed.

“It’ll be easier once it’s in the open,” he promised, fingers flexing against his legs. “And it’ll be in the open tomorrow.”

“Will Smith be mad I haven’t told him?”

“I’ll take the blame,” he said so quickly, so simply.

“I don’t?—”

“It’s my fault,” Hunter interrupted me again. “I asked to be the one.”

Pulling my lips together between my teeth, I slid both of my hands into his hair, working my fingers through the still-styled strands. His hair product stuck to my fingers, but I carefully worked my way toward the back of his head, even as he grunted and groaned through it all. Every happy sigh that left Hunter’s mouth also unwound the tension in my own shoulders, and I could have stood in the entryway there for the rest of the night and died a happy man.

“Is it okay to ask you for something?” he finally asked, voice so quiet I almost missed him over the rapid beating of my own heart.

“Always.”

I wanted to call him Sir. It felt right to call him Sir.

“Would you spankme?”

Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that was nowhere on the list, and I took a quick step backward. Hunter’s entire body swayed forward, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he rebalanced himself on his knees and threaded his fingers together behind his head like I’d shown him.

“Say that again,” I croaked.

“Would you spank me?”

“Are you asking because you want to be spanked or because you think I want to spank you?”

He swayed a little, like he was drunk.

“Can’t it be both?”

“Yes.”

“Would it make you hard to spank me?” he asked.

I forced out another nod.