Page 26

26

HUNTER

I shouldn’t be this excited.

I’m gripping the steering wheel like a damn teenager on his way to prom, and my pulse is beating faster than it did during yesterday’s workout with Ty.

I’d left the book on her porch this morning after my run. No text. No explanation. Just that pair of panties tucked in with The Alchemist and a quiet note, hoping she'd still be curious enough to read between the lines.

Apparently, she was.

Because when she finally asked me to come over, I had to stop pacing and just breathe .

This girl has me wrapped.

I mean, yeah. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to touch her again. But I didn’t think she’d ask .

And now I can’t stop picturing her—curvy, warm, hair still tousled from sleep, wearing only what I picked out. Nothing else. Just the way I asked.

I adjust in my seat. The way she looked at me that night in the truck bed…blindfolded and trusting, and somehow still totally in control—it wrecked me. And now she knows who I really am. And she’s still letting this happen.

Maybe I’m crazy to hope it means anything more. Maybe it’s just a second chance at fun.

But even if that’s all it is?

I’m driving toward her anyway.

I want to see her in those blue panties.

I want to memorize how she looks in her own room.

I want to ruin her sheets.

And yeah, I want to hear her say my real name when she comes this time.

There are so many reasons I should not be doing this.

Let’s start with the obvious. Her father would literally rather die than see her with a Holloway. It’s like Romeo and Juliet —but hotter and with more church fights.

Then there’s the part where she told me, point blank, that this is just a summer thing.

Just sex. Just fun.

Just a fucking dagger to the chest.

But if that’s all she’s going to give me?

Then I’m going to take it all. Every last gasp. Every secret smile. Every slow morning. I’ll collect the moments like fireflies, knowing I can’t keep them forever.

But God, I’ll keep them for as long as she lets me.

Hey, with these masks we’ve got going on…maybe this is more like A Midsummer Night’s Dream than Romeo and Juliet?

I pull up two houses down from hers and park, heart pounding like a war drum, and kill the engine. The windows are glowing warm in the afternoon light, and I see a shadow pass behind the curtain.

She’s waiting for me.

And I know I should turn around.

But I knock anyway.

One soft knock.

Then two harder ones.

And I wait to see if she’ll open the door.

And ruin me again.

The door swings open.

And there she is.

Barefoot, hair down, wearing one of those little tank tops that clings to her like it was custom-made for sin. And the panties. The panties I sent her.

Blue lace. No shorts. No bra.

Just her. All curves and attitude and eyes that flicker with something I can’t quite name.

She leans against the frame like she’s not the most dangerous thing I’ve ever seen.

“Took you long enough,” she says, voice light, teasing, and looking down at her wrist.

I swallow hard. “You wore them.”

“You told me to.”

I glance down, jaw tight, cock twitching with interest. “Didn’t think you’d actually listen.”

Her smile deepens. “Guess you don’t know me that well after all. Maybe I kind of like playing your little games.”

I step forward, my hands itching to touch her but I don’t—yet. She turns, hips swaying as she leads me inside like she’s not completely wrecking my sanity with every step.

“Drink?” she calls over her shoulder, heading into the kitchen.

“Sure,” I say, voice low.

She pulls out two glasses and grabs a bottle of bourbon, some sweet tea, and a sprig of mint from a little jar by the sink.

“I’m making Gold Rushes,” she says, working with confident, practiced hands. “My mom taught me when I was seventeen. Said if you want to survive the South, you need a good bourbon cocktail and a fire escape plan.”

“I like her already,” I murmur, watching her work.

At that moment I realize that for all the hate between our families, I know nothing about her parents on a personal level.

She finishes the drinks and walks them over to the couch, nodding for me to follow. I do, and we sink down side by side, the cushions dipping beneath our weight. Her leg brushes mine—intentional or not, I can’t tell.

She hands me a glass, and I take it. The drink is amber, cold, kissed with lemon and something a little sweet. Southern hospitality in cocktail form.

She raises her glass. “To summer, I guess.”

We clink.

“So…” she says, turning toward me slightly, one bare leg tucked beneath her. “You ever done this?”

“Done…what?”

She takes a slow sip before answering. “Hook up with someone. Just for sex. No strings attached. Like…a booty call, essentially?”

That flicker in her eyes tells me she’s not asking lightly.

My heart kicks in my chest. Tracy’s voice flashes through my mind— he’s just a ticket out of here —and all the trust I swore I’d never hand over again.

That was never supposed to be casual. Maybe it was for her. But not for me.

I take a long sip, then shake my head. “No. Never.”

She swallows hard, then glances down at her drink. “Me neither.”

The silence stretches for a beat. Not awkward, just charged.

“You nervous?” I ask, watching her closely.

She lifts her eyes to mine, biting her bottom lip, then slowly shakes her head. “Not with you. Not in a bad way, I mean. It’s more like… that fluttery, cliff-diving kind of nervous.”

I laugh under my breath. “That sounds dangerous.”

Her eyes narrow, teasing. “Maybe it is.”

She lifts her glass again and finishes it in one last sip, setting it gently on the coffee table. I follow suit.

Then she shifts closer. “But I think I’m in the mood to do something a little dangerous.”

My pulse surges.

“You sure?” I ask, voice lower now.

She nods, slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Her hand rests on my thigh, and my breath hitches. I slide an arm around her shoulders and draw her in, our foreheads brushing. The tension between us is practically alive—crackling, hot, and barely restrained.

“So. I know you have a masked man fantasy,” I murmur, brushing a hand over her head, letting my fingers trail down her jaw, slow and reverent. “What else is going on in that crazy little head of yours?”

She bites her lip, clearly debating. “You really want to know?”

I nod, cocky grin tugging at my mouth. “Hit me. Come on. The one good thing about our situation? You won’t say anything that surprises me.”

She gives me this sideways look—mischievous, dangerous.

“I want you to hold me down,” she says quietly. “Pin me. Put your hand over my mouth so the neighbors can’t hear how loud I get. And take me like you own me.”

“Jesus, Luna,” I manage, laughing under my breath as my cock goes rock hard under her hand. “Remind me never to doubt you again.”

Her eyes sparkle with wicked delight. “What? You said I wouldn’t surprise you. And that’s the just the tip of the iceberg.”

“You didn’t surprise me. You shattered me,” I murmur, gripping her waist and tugging her onto my lap like I can’t help myself.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she adds, cocking her head.

“What’s that?”

“You’re clean. You promise?”

“I haven’t had sex since my last relationship ended,” I admit, my voice low. “And I was tested after. Full clean bill. Swear on it.”

She locks those gorgeous hazel eyes on me, the kind that shift from gold to green depending on the light. “I want you bare. I’m on the pill. Don’t…come in me though. Is that weird?”

My jaw flexes. “No. That’s hot as hell. And fair warning—if I’m going in raw, you’re gonna feel everything, baby.”

Her breath catches, and she straddles me, sliding her hands under my shirt, fingers gliding up my abs like she’s savoring each ridge.

“God, you’re ridiculous,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Ridiculously sexy?” she asks, voice airy, breath hitching as I suck gently at the curve of her throat.

“Ridiculously dangerous.”

She leans in, brushing her lips against mine—just the ghost of contact, enough to make me ache.

“I think you like dangerous.”

I growl low in my throat. “I am dangerous.”

She grins like a sinner in church. “Prove it.”

I lift her shirt in one fluid motion and toss it over the back of the couch.

Game on.

I slide my hands down her back as she straddles me, her bare torso pressing against my chest. Her skin is soft and flushed, her pupils wide with mischief.

She brushes my hair back from my forehead and leans in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to my mouth. Then she pulls back just enough to whisper, “This is so fun when I can see your face, finally.”

I smirk, cupping the back of her head. “Yeah? Not missing the mystery anymore?”

She rolls her hips against mine, making me groan. “I don’t know. You still kind of look like a man who might have secrets.”

I grip her hips tighter. “Only one secret left, sweetheart. And you’re sitting on it.”

She laughs, loud and free, her head falling back. “God, you’re cocky.”

“You make me that way.”

Her gaze sharpens, and she drags her fingers across my jaw, slower this time. “You’ve got a good face, you know. Strong. And those eyes…”

I raise an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“They're trouble,” she says, then bites her lip. “You’re still trouble.”

“And you’re still straddling me.”

She leans forward and kisses me again, deeper this time, her tongue sweeping into my mouth. I slide my hand up her back, pressing her into me as we lose ourselves in it.

I break the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, “Bedroom?”

She hums as she tugs at my jeans, her breath warm against my jaw. “We’ll never make it.”

And then—she drops to her knees.

Jesus.

Her eyes flick up to mine, steady and wicked, and I go completely still. My pulse pounds as she reaches for my jeans and undoes the button, then the zipper, carefully like she’s unwrapping a present she’s waited all week for.

My jeans drop to the floor. Then my boxers.

She looks up at me, one eyebrow raised, her mouth already parted.

“God,” I mutter, my hand landing on the back of her head automatically. “You’re killing me.”

“Oh no,” she says, fingers curling around the base of my cock. “That would mean I’m done with you. I’m just getting started.”

Her tongue flicks the tip, slow and wet, before she wraps her lips around me and takes me deep. My head tips back. My hand tightens in her hair.

“Fuuuck, Faith…”

She hums in response, sending a vibration up the shaft that nearly makes my knees give out.

She’s sloppy about it—in the best way—her spit trailing down as she moves her mouth up and down, one hand jerking me in rhythm while the other skims over my abs, mapping the ridges like she owns them.

My hips twitch, and I try to hold still. Try to hold back.

Her eyes stay locked on mine.

There’s something so different about this in the light. No shadows. No mask. Just her—gorgeous and wild and right in front of me. This girl is ruining me.

She pauses, pulling off with a pop and catching her breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as a glint lights her eyes.

“This is fun in the daylight,” she says, voice husky. “I like being able to see you. All of you.”

My heart punches my ribs. If this is casual? Fuck, I’m enjoying every goddamn second of it.

I grin down at her, barely able to form words.

“Then keep looking, baby.”

She brings her mouth back down around me, and I have to pull her back up.

“You’re gonna make me blow if you keep that up.

“So?”

I grin and gently lift her to her feet, then scoop her up and carry her off to her bedroom.

I slide one arm under her thighs and stand, lifting her effortlessly. She squeals, clutching my shoulders as I carry her down the hall.

“You’re out of control,” she says again playfully.

“Yeah,” I say. “But you’re the one who invited ridiculous into your house.”

She grins. “I’m not complaining.”

I nudge open her door with my foot and step inside. The room smells like her—vanilla, citrus, and something warm I can’t name but never want to forget. Sunlight filters in through sheer curtains, casting golden patterns across the bed.

I lower her onto the mattress, letting her body glide against mine until we’re both breathless.

She props herself up on her elbows, looking up at me with flushed cheeks and mischief in her eyes. “So what now, Mr. Dangerous?”

I crawl over her, one knee on either side, and lean down just enough for our noses to touch. “Now?” I murmur. “Now I take my time.”

Her fingers hook around the back of my neck. “You can do whatever you want.”

My breath hitches. I brush my thumb along her jaw, my gaze locked on hers. “Careful with that.”

“Why?” she whispers. “Afraid I might break you?”

“No,” I say softly. “Afraid I might fall.”

She freezes, just for a beat. Then she leans up and kisses me—slow and deep, like we’ve got all the time in the world.

Maybe we don’t. But right now? I’m not thinking about what happens next.

Just this.

Just her.