“I’m sorry, go back to sleep.” I whisper, keeping my eyes closed. Fraking hell, his perfect, sexy, badass body is painted on my closed eyelids. The broad shoulders, the hard pecs, the abs, the nipple piercings. Every inch of skin I possess starts to tingle, and I try to keep my breathing even.
“Sera, what?” My eyes slam open. Hunter’s standing over me, crouching low so he can hear me. “Are you stuck?”
Look at his face, keep your eyes on his face – SHIT! The damn light flashed off those nipple piercings and fuck, just... fuck. I looked down, I stared at his abs, and his legs and even peeked too long at his groin in his boxers. He’s too sexy, he’s too much, he’s too beautiful. And it’s pissing me off. Stop looking!
“Yeah...yeah. I need help. He’s fallen asleep.”
Hunt grabs my free hand, and slowly tugs me, until one foot is on the ground and the other arm’s still under Matty. I grab the book with my free hand, and slide my arm under his little body and I’m home-free. Both feet on the ground, ready to go. Rocky victory-yells ‘Adrienne!’ in my head.
I stand up fast, not wanting to be face-level with Hunt’s crotch. A nervous laugh escapes me, and I bite my lip to shut myself up.
“I’m just gonna leave now.” I try to bolt, but Hunt’s hand is shackling my wrist keeping me in place unless I want to dislocate my shoulder. It’s an option.
“Why don’t you stay and watch The Goonies with me? It’s playing right now on TV.”
Fraking hell, I looked down again! No one is that perfect! Fucking shit, I can feel my hands curl, and I want to touch him so, so badly.
“Only if you put some clothes on first.”
A small smile runs along the length of his mouth. “You don’t like looking at me?”
Bloody hell, I want to stare at you forever.“It’s not nice to flaunt your genetic makeup in front of other people, Hunter.”
“So that’s a yes.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck. I break out in goose-bumps and slap my hand on where he’s burned me with his lips. “My genetics have fucked me up, too, baby. I’m happy you like the outer package.”
“Oh, yeah, start with the guilt-trip ‘cause you have a faulty pancreas. Go and wear something!” I hiss, whirling to go sit on the couch.
“What will you do if I don’t?”
That’s it. The dangerous tone to his voice, that delectable body – I’m wet. Just from looking. “I can leave, you know. I do have a TV at my place.”
Hunter rubs his skull-trim. “Shit. Gimme a sec.”
Hunter comes back from his room wearing sweats and a white shirt, covering up his awesome tats, and rib muscles and abs and ohmygodI’mgoingtoburstintoflames when Brand is biking on a little girl’s bike to bring Mikey back home.
“Thanks for reading to Matty,” he says, settling himself on the opposite corner of the couch, stretching his legs out so far, he’s hitting the side of my ass cheek and hip, where I’m seated, knees to chest.
“What the hell?!” I swat at his bare feet when he pushes them into my hip. His feet are freezing – bad circulation?
“Why are you so far away?”
“Because. I want to be. I enjoy my personal space. Shut up, I’m missing the funniest part.” Said part being Troy coming up with his Daddy’s convertible with Andy in the car (Brand’s one true love – not really). Troy acts like a dick, keeping Brand’s hands stuck on the vehicle while his feet pedal faster and faster. I crack up every single time.
Hunter’s moving in my peripheral vision, crawling towards me on the couch like a lion prowling in a cage. I might just let him maul me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, eyes still on the screen. I’ve seen this movie a million times. In college, I went through my finals watching this movie as background noise for the entirety of two weeks. I know every single line off by heart. I know what comes next. I can look away for a few seconds.
I want to so bad, but my stomach’s turning, and I can’t get enough air ‘cause Hunter’s in my space breathing it all in. I’m scared, so scared of what’s going to happen next. I don’t want to be bad for him, at anything. I want to be good. But I’ll probably be awful.
“I want you closer,” Hunter rasps, settling himself next to me. We’re flush, hip-to-hip, ribs to ribs, while one arm goes around my shoulders. I’ve seen tons of couples in this position, this subtle reminder of who belongs to who in public places. It feels so fraking good, being enveloped by his warmth. I feel like I belong, like he isn’t ashamed of me, like I am so ashamed of myself.