“Why are you naked?!” I yelp. I notice all of him. He’s got navy track pants on, saddled low on his hips, that sexy V that Katie calls ‘sex lines’ tapering below his waistband and pointing to one thing only. I gulp.
I was supposed to be unaffected, cold as in ice. I’m not. My body’s been dipped in magma, and I’m burning all over. He’s just so manly. I’ve been to pool parties, I’ve seen all the guys in swimming trunks. Eli even dons a Speedo saying it cradles him rather than letting him flap around. Hard to argue with that kind of logic.
Hunter’s just big, and muscular and so so manly that every female part of me is screaming in my head how hot he is. After all these years, I’m seriously attracted to a man. Truly attracted - not some crush that swells and dies down and eventually fades away. He makes me want to touch, to taste; I want to touch so badly my palms itch.
He’s got thick pads for pecs; probably works out a lot to regulate his sugars. Nipples – pierced. I’m wet, just like that, and I have to hold back a little moan. Tattoos – everywhere. Tribal patterns,and words I can’t read too quickly ‘cause my eyes are going to the next design, the next set of words, trying to memorize all of him since I know I won’t be getting this chance again.
Hunter keeps coming towards me, settling in front of me, blue eyes glittering. He must know what he looks like, and he’s being the world’s biggest asshole for making me want him when I can’t have him. Fucker.
His knowing grin has stars bursting behind my now closed eyelids. My body’s a traitor, not a logical machine performing complex tasks. No, now its humming, alive; itching, tingling, pulsing with need. I understand now, what that girl in the elevator all that time ago said to him, the need in her voice.
I’m not sure that Hunter is the person I want to give my virginity to. I’ve held it this long, might as well wait for someone to care for me first. Right? Right?
“You alright?” He’s gone to his knees, arms on either side of my body, one at my feet, the other at my arms. I’m caged in by him. That shouldn’t be exciting but it is. I’m so screwed.
“I think so. You’re extremely close.” My voice is wobbly, just like me.
He nods. “I know that, baby.” Oh. Can I just pretend like he actually meant it, like I’m not dreaming and it just slipped out because he probably says it to his girlfriend all the time? I’m pathetic.
I put my back flush with the back of the couch and try to breathe some air that doesn’t smell like his skin, or like baby shampoo, or his soap.I just need to get away from here, away from him. There’s only so much I can take.
“I’m...I’m fine. I’m good. You good for me to go?”
Hunter’s face goes soft, all the tension bleeding out of his features as he looks at me. It’s beautiful to see him so relaxed, and hard for me to realize that a few minutes ago, he was fighting for his life.
“What do you feel like watching?” One of his hands has palmed my cold foot as I’m now curled up on the couch. Matty barges his way into our little conversation, getting in my face, pushing his Dad out of the way.
“Yeah, Sera! We can watch Transformers 3!” Matty’s face is pinched with a worry that shouldn’t be on a little kid’s face.
I grab both of his hands, toss the remote on the couch. “Matty, you did so good coming to get me. You remembered your Dad’s sugar level and everything. And you listened super well when I asked you to get me that honey, little man.” I ruffle his hair, and pull back from him. I’m horrified to see his eyes well with tears. He turns and winds his arms around Hunter’s throat, sobbing so hard into his chest that his body is violently dragging in air to let it out. Ah, shit.
Hunter’s eyes are bleak, lost in memories or bad thoughts. He hugs Matty back and I watch this precious moment, hoping it’ll get Hunter to watch his sugars more carefully. He can’t leave Matty alone, he just can’t.
“You were so brave, Matty. Thank you for taking care of me.” Hunter uses that special voice he used on me when he thanked me before. He can have the world at his feet when he talks like that. He can certainly have mine. My heart, too.
The knock at the door comes at six-oh-one am. Punctual or trying to be clever?
I’m worried ‘cause I wear make-up to work. I put on some mascara, some eye-shadow and lip gloss. Nothing crazy, but enough that it makes a difference. I’m worried because I don’t want Hunter thinking I did this for him, like I’m desperate, like I need to get his attention. Like I want something more than a shared meal.