More, Please(7)

“Oh.” Warmth spread through me. I shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t compare yourself to me. You have great cooking all the time, whereas I eat hotdogs and Top Ramen. You’re doing your dream job, while I’m only just getting the chance to work on something I went to school for. We’re just in different points in life. You were like this once, too, you just forget.”

Hunter looked at me for a while longer, but didn’t share his thoughts. Instead, with a pensive expression, he turned his attention to his food. I noticed his movements slowed, though. He looked away to his left. He was tasting. Exploring the flavors.

I bit my lip to hide the delighted grin and tried to ignore the deep, warm feeling that grew stronger the longer I spent with him. My regard for him was flowering into something powerful. Something intense and profound.

I let out a big exhale. Dangerous waters, Olivia.

I took a sip of the wine to distract myself from a feeling that was quickly taking over me.

And moaned.

Hunter’s eyes found me again.

“Sorry.” I stared into the depths of that burgundy liquid. “But you also get some great wine all the time, whereas I get two-buck Chuck. Wowza. Good stuff.”

“You’re trying to rub it in my face now.” His lips turned into a smile. He shook his head, glancing at the wine before going back to his dinner.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

I froze mid-chew.

Blaire stood in the doorway to the kitchen, glaring down at me like I was a filthy rat.

Hunter’s gaze hardened. “Can I do something for you, Blaire?”

All hip and breast, the beautiful woman sauntered into the room with her arms folded. She glanced at my plate before homing back in on my face. “Didn’t think to invite me to dinner, hmm?”

“We never eat together, Blaire. You’re usually otherwise engaged.” Hunter turned back to his plate.

“Yes, usually I am. Because usually you don’t have time for anyone else. You work, you eat, you work out, you shower, you go to bed. So who is this Hunter Rochester Carlisle who brings home a secretary, I wonder…” Blaire leaned against the island, her face screwed up in scorn and hatred as she stared at me. “I warned you.”

My throat tightened. I couldn’t tell if she was talking to Hunter, or to me. She’d warned us both, sure, but I was the only one who might die from it.

“Blaire, as you know, the rest of this dish is in the refrigerator,” Hunter said with a patient voice. “Mrs. Foster is always happy to make you a plate.”

“Your hired help hates me, Hunter. They judge me, but for some reason, don’t judge you. Now, why is that, do you think? You hire women to fuck you. You pay them to be your sex slaves. Yet I am the one being judged. Seems highly unfair.”

Hunter put down his fork and turned in his chair to face her. Fire burned in his eyes. “We’re trying to enjoy our meal. If your sole purpose is to cause problems, please see yourself out.”

A flash of pain rolled across her face before rage covered it up. Her eyes burned just as brightly as his, but with a maniacal light. “I didn’t invite anyone over tonight. I thought maybe we could be alone. But I see that you’d rather fuck the hired help.” She pushed off from the island. “I tried to be nice, Hunter. I really did try. But now I guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

She sauntered over and stopped right next to Hunter, staring down at him with hate sparkling in her eyes. “I don’t like people making a fool of me, Hunter. It really doesn’t sit well.”

“I am not responsible for that.”

She scoffed. “Aren’t you?” Her gaze flicked to me before she slowly walked out.

When she was gone, Hunter turned back to his plate and stared at his food for a moment, his fists clenched and his lips thinned. He took a deep breath and picked up his fork. “I apologize for that.”

“Should I go?” I asked.

His deep brown gaze hit mine, anger mixed with uncertainty. “No. You’ll stay here tonight. I need to…take steps, however. I don’t want you subjected to that every night.”

Shivers covered my body upon hearing him speak like we’d be spending nights together in the future. Lots of nights. Maybe every night.

I smiled, and probably blushed, as my face felt suddenly hot. He must’ve seen it, because his eyes softened immediately. His gaze dipped to my lips again. “Finish up. I have to work out, but then I’d like as much time as possible kissing you.”



An hour later I stared down at the clothes I’d brought for bed as Hunter used his workout room. I probably should’ve been in there with him, working off the brick of food I’d just eaten, but sometimes feeling guilty was much better than lifting weights.