Surprisingly, she slept soundly. It hadn’t taken her long to fall asleep and when she awoke, her body felt as if it’d been wrapped in a cocoon and slowly rehabilitated overnight. For one, she was toasty and snug, and she hadn’t woken up to the sound of the wind whistling as it squeezed through the tiny cracks in the bedroom windowpane. Secondly, it smelled as if she’d woken up in an alternate reality, where home cooked food was a thing and pancakes didn’t just exist in store bought ready-mix boxes.
On that thought, she groggily opened her eyes and blinked as it all came back to her. Last night, the package, the police and having to go to Hunter’s home. Any and all sense of comfort was immediately replaced with apprehension, and she simply lay there as she heard activity in the connecting kitchen.
She groaned quietly as she smoothed a hand over her face. Oh, the never ending nightmare that was her life. She wasn’t one to self-pity, but there needed to be allowances for someone to stop and simply say, where did I go wrong?
The sound of something sizzling on a pan reverted her thoughts to what she’d originally been pondering over. Was Hunter cooking pancakes? The air was heady with the smell of butter, which was an orgasmic smell to wake up to.
A small, grubby hand poked her head and she craned her head back to see little Molly peering over the arm of the sofa to look at her. “Daddy said not to wake you but I waited till you were awake to come here, I was watching you for twenty years.”
Emma blinked sleepily, trying to adjust. “Twenty years? That’s a long time for someone whose four.”
“I know but it’s because I’m patient and Mommy says that’s good.”
“Smart mom,” was all Emma said as she slowly got up, trying to connect two and two. Hunter’s niece was here, which meant…
She heard the two voices then, not understanding how she’d missed them before. They were in the kitchen, Hunter and his brother. And wait, was that a female voice?
Shit. Well, this was embarrassing. How late had she slept in?
She glanced as the clock atop the mantelpiece. Shit. It was nearly noon.
Hunter’s family had strolled right in while she was dead to the world, and all she could think right now was that she was probably drooling on the cushions as they’d strolled right in. She tried not to let her despair show. Her pajama bottoms never promised to stay on – sometimes she took them off if she got too off without realizing. Quickly, she peeked under the blankets and breathed a little sigh of relief as she saw that she was still full dressed.
Laughter came from the kitchen and a parade of insecurities filled her. She had never wanted to run into Hunter’s brother again. And now it sounded like the wife was here as well.
“Hello? Do you know English?”
Emma looked back at Molly, staring at her blankly. “Yes. Do you?”
“No.”
How do you tell a kid that they’re weird?
“Can we share secrets again?” Molly asked, her blue eyes big and earnest. She came around the sofa and climbed on to sit beside Emma – who was still trying to process how to do an Oceans 11 and disappear without anyone knowing.
“Maybe not this morning, kid.” She didn’t know how to end the conversation so all she did was pat Molly’s head and then unravelled herself from the couch quietly. She needed to get dressed and step out before anyone tried to interact with her. She needed to go to the library again and see if any place was hiring. She needed a job for the weekend so that she could have some sort of inflow of cash, and she needed to find an art store so that she could begin working on art projects and see if she could sell some pieces online. She didn’t know if she was any good, but it was worth a shot. Her date with Clayton was also tonight, and she needed to find a drug store to get some cheap makeup that would hide some of her haggardness.
Molly watched silently as she silently tiptoed into the bathroom, washed her face, changed her clothes (she was down to her last underwear), and pack her purse with essentials; her phone, and her wallet.
And that’s when Molly shrieked.
“SHE’S RUNNING AWAY! DADDDYYYYYYYYY!”
Hand on the doorknob, Emma simply closed her eyes and wished for a black hole to devour her completely.
The talking in the kitchen had stopped, and Emma heard a chair scoot back, followed by footsteps.
Face aflame, she turned to see three faces staring at her from the kitchen door. Hunter, his brother, and the brother’s wife.
“Dad, she tried to run away. Look, look at what she’s doing! You have to stop her”
Hunter’s brother chuckled sheepishly, “Molly, darling, she’s just stepping out.”
“Do you want some breakfast? You just woke up.” It was the wife, who was so beautiful that it hurt. Blonde, tanned (which Emma didn’t understand. There was no sun in this godforsaken land), with green eyes that sparkled from a mile away. She was holding a baby and another kid – a boy- older than Molly, was peeking through her legs.
How did that body, which looked like it could pose for Sports Illustrated, pop out three kids? Jesus Christ!
“Um…” Emma’s eyes briefly met with Hunters. He was casually leaning against the kitchen door frame, watching her with a glint of humor in his eyes.
Bastard. He was enjoying watching her squirm.
“Come on in, come on in,” Hunter’s brother broke the static scene and waved her in, “we heard about your rough night. You, more than the kids, need these pancakes.”
The woman smiled, “we’ve kept the bacon warming in the pan. Do you eat meat? We’ll get a plate ready for you.”
“And coffee, Hunter – get another pot started.”
The three dispersed in the kitchen and Emma allowed herself a moment to hate her entire life and every moment leading up to this situation. She had been so close.
Had it not been for… Emma levelled out a heavy sigh and tried not to channel her frustration at Molly, who looked way too happy that she’d succeeded in keeping her here.
“Can we share a secret now?” Molly whispered as pattered back to her. Emma, dejectedly, sighed again and then lowered herself to Molly’s eye level.
“O.k. What’s your secret?” She asked. The kid had screamed bloody murder to keep her here. Might as well see what the whole fuss was about.
“I don’t like my new baby brother,” she muttered, and crossed her arms. “Mommy and daddy love him more than me.”
Emma cocked her head to the side, and withheld her frown. Children perplexed her. She didn’t have any siblings, so she never really understood the whole sibling jealousy thing. She also didn’t remember being a kid, so she didn’t really understand kids either. One thing she could understand though, was that Molly – just like any other kid – was going through some emotional stuff for her age.
“Ok, your turn,” Molly said, her face set and serious.
“Okay…” Emma pretended to think, and then tried to subtly comfort the little weasel in front of her as much as she could, “My secret is, is that I grew up without any sisters or brothers. I sort of wish that I had. Sometimes it gets lonely.”
“Really?” She asked earnestly, as if her confession had just blown her mind. “What’s a lonely?”
“It’s when you feel a little sad, because you don’t have sisters or brothers.”
“That happens?”
“Oh yeah.”
“But at least your mommy and daddy love you the mostest.”
“Not always. But your daddy told me a secret the last time we met. And you want to know what his secret was?”
She nodded.
“That he loves the three of you the same. Your new baby brother is just a whole lot smaller than you so he needs a bit more protection. Okay?” Emma gave her cheek a little squeeze and then stood back up, hoping that was enough to get Molly back on track. God knows that she’d used up every morsel in her body trying to appear empathetic enough.
To further her apprehension, she noticed that Hunter had watched the entire exchange from afar, but she ignored him as she walked into the kitchen. Immediately, the brother held out a hand.
“I’m Ernest. Ernie for short. We weren’t able to exchange names last time,” he gave her a warm smile. “This is my wife, Jessica.”
“Hi,” Emma said dully, feeling insignificant compared to this beautiful family in front of her. “I met Molly,” she said awkwardly, pointing behind her. Molly was already busying herself with climbing the sofa.
“She likes you,” Jessica beamed, helping Ernie with the pancake mix, “this is Daniel,” she motioned to the baby fast asleep on her shoulder, “and that’s Robin,” she pointed to the backyard where the oldest had gone to run around with their dog.
“You have a nice family,” was the only thing Emma knew to say, as she awkwardly sat down on the dinette table. This was claustrophobically domestic. She needed to get out of here.
“How are you feeling?” Ernie asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. “Jesus, if someone had done that to me…what a sick person to send you a package with…” he trailed off, not wanting to say anything around the kids.
“Hunter, do you know who it is?”
“Not yet,” he came and placed a mug of coffee in front of Emma. She didn’t look up at him. In the entire week and a half that she’d known him, not once had he offered her coffee. She was beginning to doubt that his brother knew that Hunter was keeping her here as a maid. What would Ernie think of his perfect sheriff of a brother then? “We’re running everything through the labs to see if there’s a print or any trace of DNA.”
“Don’t worry. There are definitely some weirdos in this town but I don’t think anybody would actually try to hurt you.” Jessica came and placed a plate of eggs, pancakes and bacon in front of her. Despite feeling wholly uncomfortable, her stomach clenched in hunger at the feast. She’d been surviving on cereal that tasted like dog food. This looked like heaven.
“Thank you,” Emma said, sincerely this time. She’d come from a broken family, only had friends that came from broken families, so despite feeling every sort of resentment there was towards Hunter and his perfect life, it was somewhat nice to see too. That, or the eggs were doing something to her judgement.
“You did the right thing by coming here,” Jessica sat down beside her and then squeezed her arm, “your father’s house on Jackson’s street is so secluded, by that lighthouse and the water. You don’t want to be alone there.”
She nodded, deciding the food was mouth-wateringly good enough to tolerate the awkwardness.
Jessica was clearly oblivious to how she was feeling, “but Hunter, why the heck did you make her sleep on the couch? Poor girl. Was it the dust? I’ll make sure to tidy up the guest room for you, so you move up there tonight. God knows Hunter is terrible at housekeeping.”
“Good idea,” Hunter said languidly, taking a sip of freshly brewed coffee from his mug. Both Hunter and Emma knew that the guest room was spotless. She’d cleaned it just a day ago. Jerk.
“Oh, well,” a sense of alarm was filtering through her, “do I even need to stay here another night? I’m sure it’s safe enough -.”
She didn’t even get to finish her sentence, “of course you’re staying here,” It was Ernie who spoke. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll get Henry to come around your place to see if we can get some alarms installed. Your dad had a few dogs, which used to keep people away but Lauren’s family adopted them after…” he awkwardly changed topics, “you just moved into town recently. Have you had a proper reception yet? Why don’t you and Hunter come over to our house for dinner tonight? Jessica – what do you think?”
“I’ve been waiting for an occasion to open that wine your mom gave us for our anniversary.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” This was all feeling like too much. “I already made plans for tonight.”
“Oh, is something fun happening in town?” Jessica distractedly looked into the living room to check in on Molly.
“Not really,” Emma took a swig of the coffee, to wash down her breakfast. “I’m just…” she didn’t know why she was blushing, “going out with Clayton.”
This definitely piqued everybody’s interest in the room. All eyes glanced at her briefly.
“Clayton, Jeremy’s son? The one who works at the auto shop?”
“Sure,” Emma shrugged half-heartedly. Now that she was done eating, she wanted to get out of here.
“You’re seriously going out with him?”
“Yeah,” Emma narrowed her eyes at Hunter briefly, wondering what he even meant by that comment. Hunter simply gave her a heady look before going to load the dishwasher.
The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by the others in the room and neither did the sudden tension.
Jessica broke it, “well, let’s make it tomorrow night then. How does that sound, Emma?”
What a terrible start to a weekend. How was she supposed to come up with an excuse when she was literally living with Hunter now?
“Tomorrow sounds good.”
“Great.”
x.x.
It was getting colder and colder so she needed to find another jacket before the heavy snow fall began. If it snowed before then, she would be screwed. Thank God the town was small enough that she could walk around. Otherwise, she’d have been extra-screwed. She could sense the snow in the air though. Live enough winters in Canada and you end up having a knack for it. The air sort of freezes up, the clouds bunch together, the ground becomes really still and the tips of the grass begin to frost in the mornings. When you breathe, your lungs can feel it – that extra bit of coldness that comes before a snowfall. That’s when you know snow is coming, and she needed to prepare for it before it caught her off guard.
She checked her phone and the conversation she’d been having with Clayton. He hadn’t responded to her most recent message, which was slightly worrying.
3:12PM Clayton J: Hey, Emma. Happy Saturday. How are you?
3.15PM Emma C: I’m doing good. How about yourself?
3:24PM Clayton J: Can’t complain. Was thinking about tonight and wondering if you would want to drive over to Newmarket city to see the new Daniel Craig movie?
4.01PM Emma C: Sure. What time are you thinking?
4.03PM Clayton J: How about I pick you up at 8?
4.15PM Emma C: That works.
4.15PM Emma C: Change of location by the way. There was an incident and I’m currently staying at the sheriff’s house temporarily. Long story... Do you know where he lives? You would have to pick me up from there unless you want me to meet you somewhere else?
Emma bit her lip. It was five now and he still hadn’t responded. She was walking back to Hunters, art supplies in hand. It was just as she’d reached the front door, when her phone buzzed.
5:01PM Clayton J: Sure, no problem. I know where that is. I’ll see you at 8! J
She breathed a sigh of relief. He’d even added a smiley face. That had to mean he wasn’t weirded out by this, right?
She pocketed the phone and then rang the doorbell, which made her feel like she was back in university and returning to her residence building after they closed the front doors when it was past curfew. She had managed to stay out of the house for the entire day, but the library, and bakeries had closed and there was no place to go but to his home.
Hunter didn’t take long to open it, and the two didn’t say anything when they saw each other. An odd rush always ran through her at the sight of him. Her hormones had clearly been affected on a molecular level. She needed to regain some sort of sanity.
She saw that he’d been working on something in the living room. Papers were spread out everywhere, on the sofa, carpet, and table.
She simply observed before making her way to the guest room, after Jessica persisted she move her things there. The door that connected this room to Hunter’s was deftly closed, and she just wished there was a lock to keep it that way.
Emma tried to shrug off the frustration. She’d been too much of a Debbie downer. Good things had happened today.
She’d found four job listings whilst at the library and she’d applied to all four. Within three hours, the local bar, at which she’d applied as a waitress for, called her back and she’d gone in for an interview. He’d given her the position on the spot, probably out of pure desperation for staff. She’d have to work Thursday nights though which meant she’d be working around the clock on Thursdays. That was something she’d just have to deal with. What mattered was that she’d have a tangible income, one that could go into her savings, and help her get out of the red digits that showed up on her bank statement.
She had also found a half-decent art shop, and had stocked up on canvas, watercolors, acrylic colors and paint brushes. She could start painting by tomorrow, have something up on Amazon by Sunday night.
Life was finally taking a turn for the better.
Minus the deer head, blood and animal organs packaged to her the night before, obviously.
She organized her things, and at six-thirty, took a shower.
It still felt strange as fuck being naked in Hunter’s house, even though it was in a bathroom, completely alone and locked from inside. She felt like everything smelled like Hunter, even though it was the guest bathroom and none of his stuff was in here. She closed her eyes and tried to let the hot water erase the memory of how his hands had felt on her. She’d been good today for the most part, blocking that from her mind. She needed to make sure it stayed that way. She wasn’t an expert on dating, but fantasising about someone else while dating someone probably wasn’t the best approach.
Wanting to blow dry her hair, she ended her shower as fast as she could, wrapped herself in a towel, and made her way back to the room so that she could finish getting ready.
Seeing that Clayton had texted, she paused to check her phone.
6.42PM Clayton J: So I fell down my stairs, and have broken my leg, and my hip. Currently at the hospital.
“Oh shoot,” she muttered, and immediately responded.
6:51PM Emma C: Are you ok?
6.52PM Emma C: Don’t even worry about tonight. Are you at Harbordale District Hospital or Newmarket General?
Emma paused, wondering if she’d sounded a bit too concerned in that last text. But that’s what people who sort of liked each other did right? Visit each other in the hospital when the other broke a leg? She hadn’t dated in so long, she had no idea what the protocol for this was.
6:53PM Clayton J: I’m at HDH.
6.53PM Clayton J: Sorry about cancelling on you.
6:54PM Emma C: Don’t worry about it. I’ll come see you tomorrow at the hospital tomorrow morning. How does that sound?
6:55PM Clayton J: Sounds great J
She shut her phone and pondered to herself. Was it bad that she was slightly relieved? It meant that she had one more night to start on her art project. Sure, she was concerned that he’d broken his bones, but…
She shrugged, and went to go put on her clothes, dressing herself in a pair of oversized boxer shorts and a snug sweater. Planning on starting on her art straight away, she paused as she felt her stomach clench in hunger.
She hadn’t eaten since the morning.
Emma pondered for a little while, wondering if she could last till the morning. She was living in Hunter’s house for God’s sake. The least she could do was stay out of his face.
When her stomach grumbled again, she sighed and resigned herself to her fate. She’ll be fast. Zero in on the kitchen, steal a banana or something, and then head back up.
With that mindset, she steeled herself and headed downstairs. She immediately smelled the dinner cooking when she reached the foot of the staircase, and blanched when she realized that it meant Hunter was in the kitchen.
Whatever.
In. Banana. Out. She knew exactly where they were too, considering she’d stocked them just a few days ago.
She entered into the kitchen, and saw Hunter at the stove top, his back turned to the door. Whatever he was cooking smelled absolutely fucking delicious but she didn’t even stop to glance. In. Banana. Out.
She reached the pantry, grabbed a banana, and was on the last part of the plan. About to release the breath she didn’t even know she was holding, she flinched when she heard him speak.
“I’m cooking enough for at least four people. Do you want any dinner?” He was looking back at her, in that annoyingly watchful, guarded way of his. He glimpsed at the banana in her hand. “Is that all you’re eating for dinner?”
“Um…” she looked down at the banana, hoping it would give her some sort of witty response. Her mind was blank. “I don’t want to be a bother. The deal was that I eat lunch here. Not breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
He flashed her a looked visceral. “You can find other ways to repay me.”
She blinked, not expecting the comment at all. “What -.”
“It was a joke, relax. You should see your face.” He snorted, and went back to cooking. “There’s a red wine in the second cabinet near the -”
“I know where it is,” Emma finished, still glued to the spot. When he just turned back to stir the pot, she waited a few heartbeats before moving to get the wine. What did this mean? Was she now staying for dinner? Was she just getting him wine?
She placed the heavy bottle on the dinette, and unscrewed it when Hunter gave no other instruction. Should she just leave now? Should she stay? She didn’t want to stay. That’s all that mattered right? So she should go…
Fuck. She wished she had more social grace. It would help in situations like these.
She’d just unscrewed the cork when Hunter pulled himself away from the stove and brought out two deep wine glasses. Her heart didn’t a little, dangerous flip, as he came to her and passed her a glass.
“What happened to your date?”
“He fell down the stairs,” she explained stoically. When he gave her a strange look, she tried to sound more empathetic, “I’m going to go see him in the hospital. He broke a few bones…”
“Damn.”
“Yeah…” He poured a hefty sum into her glass, which pretty much confirmed that she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Her senses buzzed with a potent sense of pleasure, and also a sense of anticipation. She had not treated herself to a nice glass of wine in way too long. Shots of tequila and cheap vodka, sure. But that was a different story.
“Heard you got a job at Neds,” Hunter poured himself a glass and then sat down on the adjacent chair. Emma took that as a cue to sit down as well. She’d already taken a hearty sip, needing some sort of courage to make being alone in this small kitchen with Hunter a little bit easier.
“For the weekends.”
“Hm,” was all he commented, and leaned back to relax. She was looking at her fingernails, needing something to focus on.
Thankfully, he broke the silence. “We’re installing some cameras on your house. The plan is to have you move back in within a few days, take away the patrol, and see if the person catches the bait.”
“Sounds good,” she took another sip, enjoying the way it felt like cozy, calming goodness passing through her. “How long is a few days?”
He gave a single shrug. “However long it takes until I feel that we have all our ends covered to make sure we catch this guy.”
“Did forensics find any prints or…”
“None. Whoever it was, he was careful.”
“Ugh, that’s creepy,” she bit her lip out of anxiety, and asked a few more questions that Hunter begrudgingly answered or chose not to answer.
Dinner wasn’t actually as bad as she thought it would be. She’d been so stressed, overworked and tired that the first glass of wine went straight to her head. Instead of bolting to her room like she’d planned, her body decided to remain comfortably seated at the dinette table for the food he’d been cooking. Which, to her pleasure, had been steak.
God, she was going to gain five pounds from today alone.
The food made her happier, and eating gave her a distraction from looking at his face. Conversation wasn’t painful though, and by the time Hunter poured her a third glass, she’d become quite relaxed.
He didn’t seem to mind her presence either. Instead, his constantly brooding, pissed off, and combative behaviour had slightly been dimmed down. If anything, he wasn’t on the offensive or the defensive. And for the first time, neither was she.
Well, that was a lie. Even three glasses of wine in, she still felt a little guarded around him. Rather, of herself around him.
“I’ve been avoiding going into that lighthouse, the one that belonged to my dad,” she was telling him in a very confessional way. Their dinner was finished, but neither had moved from their seats. “The key is somewhere in that house, but I almost don’t want to find it.”
“Why?” His forehead was furrowed, his eyes watching her curiously.
“When have you ever heard anything good about people in lighthouses?” She said it as if it was obvious, and he was dumb. “You’re either in a lighthouse because it’s haunted, or because you’re running away from an axe murderer.”
“This has happened to you before?”
“No, but haven’t you watched like any movie about a lighthouse?”
“I don’t think there are many.”
“Yeah, well, Hunter, you haven’t seen many movies then,” she retorted, knowing that she wasn’t making much sense but not really caring.
He didn’t back down, “name one movie about a lighthouse and an axe murderer.”
She rolled her eyes, “don’t get me started.”
“Yeah, because you can’t.”
“Hunter, just please accept that I’m right about this.”
He laughed, which was a nice sound to hear, and also signified to her that she didn’t hear him laugh much.
It was only some twenty minutes later that she finally admitted to herself that she was indeed, a little bit drunk and she was beginning to feel that he was a lot less drunk than she. That was a warning sign, if any, that she needed to wrap this up and go back to her room.
Unfortunately, her mouth had a mind of its own. “What did my dad do to you?” she blurted suddenly, feeling that she needed to know. It had been building up inside of her for days, simmering. They’d been talking about something else entirely but gone was her sense of social propriety. “You’ve had it out for me from the start. You still do.”
His demeanor immediately shifted. The locks were gliding back into place. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“But it does.”
“Don’t start an argument, Emma.”
“You threw my car in a garage to tally up a fine against me, one that I couldn’t pay, and then forced me to be your maid. How can you say you don’t have it out for me?”
She was prodding and poking the flames, venturing into territory that she knew she shouldn’t go to. Yet, it felt cathartic finally saying it out loud. His jaw clenched and he sighed, all humor gone from the situation.
“I -.”
“And don’t start with the crap about keeping the roads safe by towing my car away. That’s bullshit. You know that as much as I do.”
“It wasn’t bullshit. Your car was a driving ticking bomb.”
“Don’t change the topic.”
He groaned quietly out of frustration, “What do you want me to say? Your dad was a piece of shit. An alcoholic that ruined whatever he could get his hands to.”
“You don’t think I don’t know that?” She was getting upset now, being reminded of things she definitely didn’t want to remember now. “So that’s what it is? My dad did something to you one day in a drunken haze and so you decided to make my life miserable?”
“It wasn’t a one day thing and I’m not trying to make your life miserable,” he said curtly and began to clean up the plates. But Emma wasn’t done with the conversation.
“Then what is it?!”
“Stop it.”
“I want to know!”
“Okay, let’s wrap up for the night,” he wasn’t having any of it. His good mood was gone, replaced by the normal bitterness that followed him around. He quickly cleared up the table and moved it to the kitchen.
“I’m not dropping this.”
“I am.”
“I think I deserve to know why everyone in this town hates me.”
“Nobody hates you, Emma.”
“Someone just sent me a package of animal organs!”
“God damn it,” Hunter snapped, brushing a hand over his face, “you have his eyes. His hair. His skin tone. His tone of voice. It pissed me off. I wanted to hurt you. I still do, sometimes. Just to get back at him, because I know it’d hurt him that I hurt his daughter. It’s how others feel. I’m sure it’s what this guy who’s harassing you feels. That’s why I told you to go home. It won’t be easy to get people to accept you here.”
For the first time, Emma felt like she’d been punched in the guts. Of everything she’d thought he’d say, that wasn’t it.
Old Emma snapped back. Vulnerable Emma disappeared. Fake tough Emma slid into place.
“Yeah, well, you’d have to do a lot more than tow my car to hurt me.”
He seemed exhausted, “Emma, just drop this.”
“What? Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Tough Guy? Sheriff of the town? Stop freaking out over a little bit of confrontation,” the tipsiness in her was talking, and she was okay with it. “All I’m saying is that you and all of your little town buddies will have to do a lot more to scare me away.”
“I didn’t say that what was happening was right.”
“Oh, right,” she rolled her eyes, “sure, sure. You can’t help that you hate me because of my dad, but you’re aware that it’s wrong… to err is to be man. Yada, yada… whatever.” She turned around, suddenly tired of the conversation. “Goodnight.”
“Emma, get back here,” he gently grasped her wrist, pulling her back.
“What do you want from me?!” she groaned, wanting to push him away. “I…” she trailed off, realizing how close he’d drawn her.
In that very moment, she hated him. Hated that she couldn’t stand him, and hated that there was nothing else that she wanted more.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him.
She could feel his shock under her hands that she had immediately pressed against his chest. Her face was flushed, and her body felt hot but she pressed herself against him, giving herself entirely to the kiss. She felt his shock ebb away into desire, and slowly, his hands travelled around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His lips parted to kiss her deeper.
The moment he responded, she pulled back. Yes, she’d made the first move but she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“I think I’m going to head off now,” she whispered, heat reverberating through her as she got a glimpse of the sheer primal desire in his eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he muttered and pulled her back roughly, his hands smoothing over her and locking her into place. Her heart was beating a thousand miles a minute and all she could think was that she felt like being consumed by him, and devouring him in return.
Their kiss wasn’t classy by any means. It was driven by stark need, and urgency. She bit his bottom lip, and he bit harder in return, making her whimper. With one hand clasping the nape of her neck, he pulled her hair back like he had before so he could kiss her harder. The roughness only turned her on.
Her hands were working of their own accord, the alcohol giving her courage where there really was none. She pulled his shirt up, driven by a sudden need to feel his skin under her palms. Watching her headily, he let her, and she greedily drank in the smooth chest and muscles that defined his abdomen as she pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.
It all seemed to be happening in slow motion and super speed at the same time. Her heart was pounding, but all her senses felt shot, and frayed. She brought her hand up to his neck and slowly travelled down, feeling his hot skin under her hand. When she reached the waistband of his jeans, she felt him go still under her. She grasped his buckle and pulled him closer, to leave hot kisses down across his neck.
Whatever she’d done seemed to turn him on because he let out a soft growl and pushed her back. Dizzily, she was turned around and pressed against the wall, her stomach clenching in anticipation.
She didn’t have to wait long. He pressed himself against her back, and she felt his hardness pushing up against her from behind. Her hair was pulled aside and he bit her neck, just as he quickly pulled the hem of her boxer shorts down to her ankles.
She gasped as he pushed her firmly against the wall once again.
“Hold still,” he murmured against her ear, the breath of his voice sending shivers shooting down her back. She heard him kneel behind her, and nudge her knees apart.
“Fuck,” she groaned, feeling especially exposed. She felt like her underwear was soaked, and with her shorts pulled down to her ankles, she felt inclined to snap her legs shut.
But he held them apart, and she gasped as she suddenly felt his mouth trailing down the back of her thigh.
“Hunter -.” She began to say, but the words dried up on her tongue as his lips softy kissed the cotton fabric that separated his mouth from her wetness. She swallowed, and then bit her lip as his second kiss was a lot firmer, and a whole lot less tentative.
When he pulled away, she instinctively pushed back and this time, his kiss was wet, dampening her already wet panties. He sucked, and knowing he was so close to her clit, she groaned, feeling so weak that she could’ve fallen had she not had the wall for support.
Expecting more, he suddenly stopped and stood back up, pulling her back against him.
His voice was hoarse, “When I fuck you, because I will, it’ll be when you’re sober, and you’ll be begging for it.”
“I hate you,” she muttered, feeling as if her body was shaking. She would never beg him for it. If that’s what he wanted, he had another thing coming.
“Your body doesn’t seem to mind me,” he replied, snaking an arm across her stomach. He turned her head and gave her a harsh kiss, which left her breathless.
With that, he left her completely, and she stood there in the kitchen, trying to recover.
When she heard the front door slam shut, she pulled up her shorts and then made her way to the living room couch.
Sitting down, she held her head in her hands and tried to make sense, the best she could in her semi-inebriated sense of mind, of what the fuck had just happened.