Never Been Kissed(62)

“Super real,” I croak, not even trying to clear my throat. “I’d be lying if I said those weren’t words I wanted to hear.”

A small tug at one corner of his mouth has the potential to become a smile. It dies quickly and he keeps his solemn stare on my face.

“I’ve wanted to say them for awhile. You just need to know what you’re getting into with me.”

“I’m having a thought here, Barbossa.” I sigh when he gives me a blank look. “Pirates of the Caribbean again. I really need you to watch that movie. I’m making jokes to the walls, over here,” I smile at him, and even though my hand shakes as it makes its way to the side of his face – I get there in the end. Even though my heart wants to riot and bolt out of my chest; even though I’m scared of being hurt – Hunter is hurting, and I know enough about that to want to make him feel better.

I tell him what I know. “I think you’re amazing. Really, I do. You’re sweet and kind. You don’t understand my nerdy jokes, but you care enough to look them up after. You’re the only one who likes my nerdy shirts. You’re strong, and brave. So, yeah, I think you’re amazing. And no matter what you say or do – nothing will make me change my mind from that.”

Hunter nuzzles my hand like he’s a pet starved for affection. I don’t see the Duchess giving her little boy hugs and kisses.

“So you still want to be my friend?” His eyes are hopeful...and wary.

“I...I think I want to be more than your friend.”





A predator is wearing Hunter’s face – the transformation has me panting. His blue eyes are dark and knowing, nostrils flared like he’s trying to capture as much of my scent as possible. His cheek along my hand burns me, his mouth curves in a wicked smile that has butterflies bumper-car colliding in my lower belly.

I’m not sure I remember how to breathe.

I squirm in my seat, the leather of the couch letting out a groan, but Hunter holds my attention. He captivates me like the glass-covered rose entranced Belle, and I can’t look away. He’s working some sort of magic on me without the use of a wand. It’s just him, and me, and it’s even more terrifying that it could ever be in books.

“Thank you for my plate,” he says, and his voice has dropped lower, become tangible, like a caress along my arms and legs. I’ve gone dumb; I keep telling my hand to move away from his cheek but it won’t listen, no matter how many times I yell in my head.

I nod, not sure what unintelligible sounds will come out of my mouth.

“I’m going to need a few minutes alone, baby. Do you mind hanging with your friends for fifteen minutes?”

“Sure. I can do that.” Hunter turns his face into my hand, landing a kiss in the center of my palm. His kiss travels through my skin, into my blood running up, up my arm to settle in my chest, and gets stuck in my beating heart. Oh. My. God! “Call me if you need anything else.”

I move my hand from his face, and get up from the couch on shaky legs. I move to Alex’s terrace. I go outside without really seeing my friends, without processing the looks on their faces. I don’t really see Katie’s face set in a grim line, her dark eyes boring into the back of Tommy’s head like she’s going to use heat vision like Kal-El.I don’t see or hear Alex, Eli and Josh yelling at Tommy, who’s yelling right back, arms waving, beer sloshing onto the terrace and causing a mess.

A shame, really, ‘cause I could use another four Coronas to calm myself down, and to make my movements sluggish so I don’t strangle Tommy.

“See? She’s not even upset! I’m an asshole to everyone – equality for all,” Tommy says, grinning at me. God, I want to kill him, but I also want to thank him, since now I understand Hunter a little bit better. Nope, I’ve gone right back to having visions of ending him.

“I asked you to tone it down. How much more clearer could I be, Russia?” I snarl, stalking closer to him. I really want to punch him and give him a black eye that he’ll have to explain away come Monday morning at work – and he’ll remember it’s from me.

“Your thug’s grown up enough to understand that whatever I say is grounds to hate me, not you.”

My nose starts to sting, and wet coats my eyes. “Why did you do that? Why? I asked you, nicely, as a friend, to be polite, to be courteous. He’s a good guy. What did I do to make you treat me this way?”

Tommy shakes his head, a wince twisting his handsome features. “What did I say? I implied that he gave you a good orgasm, so good that you’d bring him food. I wasn’t mistreating you; I was commenting.”