Page 5 of Crossed Paths (The Ramblers of St. Claire #2)

Alexandra

“ F uck, Alex,” Hunter groans, his voice strained and low. “You’re so wet, so hot.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat spiralling through me, and I meet his thrusts eagerly, nails digging into his shoulders as I cling to him. “Don’t stop,” I pant. “I’m close.”

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he moves faster—relentless, focused, like he knows exactly how to undo me. My whole body tightens, tension building sharp and fast like a drawn bow.

And then—

“Hunter!” I cry out, shuddering as my orgasm crashes through me. My walls clench around him, and he lets out a rough, broken curse as he follows, his hips jerking deep one final time as he spills inside me. The intimacy of it sends another tremor through me.

For a moment, we stay like that. Still. Breathless. Hearts pounding in sync .

Then he pulls out, and I let out a small, involuntary whimper at the loss, my body still humming with the aftershock of everything we just shared.

He helps me sit up, his hands gentle as they sweep hair back from my damp forehead. “You okay?” he asks, voice quiet, full of something careful and warm.

I nod, lips curling into a dazed grin. “More than okay.”

But then his expression shifts. His brows draw together, and I feel the change immediately.

“Shit,” he mutters, glancing over at the pile of clothes on the floor. “I wasn’t—I mean, we didn’t—”

I frown, following his gaze. “What? What’s wrong?”

He runs a hand through his hair, looking somewhere between guilty and stunned. “I wasn’t wearing a condom.”

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I’m on birth control.”

He looks at me, eyes searching mine like he’s double-checking for any trace of uncertainty. Then he lets out a long breath—half relief, half something else. Something deeper.

“Thank fuck,” he murmurs, the edge of a smile tugging at his lips before he kisses me deeply and helps me stand.

The legs of the pool table dig into the backs of my thighs as I pull my knickers up. The fabric sticks slightly to my skin—still warm, still sensitive—and the air around us is too quiet now.

Hunter’s zipping up his jeans, his head down. He doesn’t look at me.

The silence stretches between us, tight and unfamiliar. I pick up my bra from where it landed under the stool and try not to let my hands shake as I fasten it.

It’s not that I regret it.

It’s that I don’t know what it was .

We’ve known each other for years. He’s my brother’s best friend. He’s been around for nearly every Sunday lunch, every late-night garden party, every time Peter needed to haul something heavy up the stairs.

And now he’s been inside me.

I glance at him.

He said he’s wanted this for a long time. But if that’s true, why now? Why tonight, after all these years of silence?

He’s never looked at me like that before.

Or maybe he has, and I just didn’t let myself see it.

I reach for my T-shirt, suddenly cold all over. My voice feels lodged somewhere behind my ribs.

I want to say something. Anything.

But what comes out is nothing.

Just more silence.

And I don’t know what that means.

I’m about to reach for my shoes when I feel him move.

Hunter turns toward me, and before I can say a word, he kisses me.

Not like before. Not hurried or hungry. This kiss is slower. Surer. He cups my face in both hands, and I feel the weight of it—what he’s not saying yet, what he’s still holding back.

When he pulls away, his eyes search mine.

“That wasn’t casual for me,” he says, voice low. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I can explain. And I don’t just mean for one night. I mean you, all of you.”

I blink, throat tightening.

“What... what now?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

He takes a step back, just enough to give me room, but not enough to make me feel like he’s retreating .

“What I’d like to do,” he says, “is take you upstairs to your flat and do that again. At least twice more before the night’s over.”

My heart skips—one beat, then another.

“But,” he adds gently, “I can see this has shaken you. So if you need space, if you want to think things through, I’ll go. I’ll leave you to it. No pressure.”

He looks at me like he means every word.

“But know this, Alex…” he says, voice low, rough around the edges. “Now that I’ve had you, I can’t go back. I don’t want anyone else. I want you . I want all of you. I’ve wanted you for so bloody long, I don’t even remember what it feels like not to.”

I freeze.

“I’ve been yours for years,” he goes on, eyes locked on mine.

The look he gives me makes my chest ache.

“And I never said anything because… maybe I thought you’d never see me that way.

Maybe I didn’t want to risk what we had.

But tonight—” he takes a breath, shakes his head—“I can’t pretend anymore. ”

I gasp, every part of me short-circuiting. Because I hear the truth in his voice. Feel it in the silence that follows.

“I’m confused,” I whisper, barely able to form the words. “I have so many questions, Hunter. And this… it’s all so fast. I need time to think.”

He nods, and his thumb brushes the edge of my jaw.

“I’ll give you that,” he says quietly.

Then he kisses me again. Slower. Deeper. A kiss that says he’s holding something back only because I asked him to.

“But Alex,” he murmurs against my lips, “I won’t give up. I can’t. Not unless you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me. And if that’s what you need to do, I’ll walk away. But even then, I’ll still hope. Because I don’t know how not to.”

And God help me—I want to believe every single word.

I should run. I should tell him to slow down. I should question everything.

But instead, I let him take my hand.

He walks me to the back entrance of the pub. Where this all started. He presses one last kiss to my lips, gentle and firm and full of everything he didn’t say.

Then he slips out into the rain without another word.

And I stand there, one hand on the banister, wondering if I’ve just been kissed by the one man I never saw coming—and the one I might not be able to let go.