Page 170 of Dark Little Game

You’re not broken, I think, trying to hold myself back from tackling him with a kiss right then.

You’ve been fucking perfect all along.

The next twohours of the gallery show go by in a flash. More and more people come up to talk to Hunter about his work.

By the end, it’s like we’ve been through the best kind of whirlwind, and after the gallery closes for the evening, I’m the last one to walk out with Hunter.

He feels for my hand.

That’s another thing he does all the time now, without hesitation. He holds my hand, because Hunter Knox isn’t afraid of romance anymore, either.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Overwhelmed. Exhausted. And also feeling like I just had one of the best nights of my life.”

I pull him into a side hug, pressing kisses to his hair. “You’re anahh-tist, babe. The whole world knows it now, too.”

“It’s only possible because of you,” he says softly.

We’re walking beneath the canopy of trees on the Crimson quad now.

The same place that I was running at the start of last semester,dreadingthe fact that Hunter was coming to campus.

And now I can’t imagine living without him.

“I think we both know you’ve been talented for a lifetime.”

“But I’d never be able to get back into it without you. Rayne, you’ve made me feel like I can be a person again.”

“Oh, stop.”

He comes to a standstill, and I turn and look in his eyes.

He looks thankful, yes. Loving.

But he also has that possessive glint in his eyes that I’ve come to love more than anything.

“You are mine, Rayne,” he tells me. “I don’t have to touch you. I don’t even have to look. And you know it, too.”

“Did you ever think it would be any other way?”

There’s nowhere else for us to be than here, out on the quad, surrounded by the song of the crickets in the night air.

“Yes,” he tells me with a grin. “Thought you’d act all defiant forever.”

I bite my lower lip. “Maybe I will.”

“Get over here,” he says, yanking me toward him and crushing a kiss to my lips.

And my world explodes into radiant color. Artwork of his making that I melt into in his arms.

“Hey,” I say against his lips, pulling back a little. “If I were a color, what would I be?”

He runs his hand along the edge of my jaw.

“Gold,” he tells me softly. “Radiant gold.”

“Fuck, I love you.”