His eyebrows pop up on his head, and he licks his lips. His eyes go beyond me, to the car, until he can’t help himself and breaks out into a full smile.
“I’ll call you. Christ, how do you get me to laugh when I don’t want to?”
A line from an old Ray Charles song pops into my head. “’I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine.’”
Hunter stares at me, again for what feels like a long time. I start to get worried about Matty sitting in the warm car. Not the most comfortable place in the world. But now it feels like I’m under Hunter’s spell and I can’t move until he lets me.
He opens his mouth, closes it, only to open it again. Thinking better of speaking, he shakes his head, and stares down at me with a happier face. He touches his mouth to mine, a kiss that means more than the action itself.
I love you, Hunter MacLaine.
What. The. FRAK?
Oh, God, oh God. Did I say that out loud?
Hunter’s mouth touches mine again and again, like he’s trying to get the truth out of me, but frak, those words are going under padlock and key, under palmprint and retinal scan and a funny password that’ll change every hour deep inside me.
“I’m expecting you after dinner, baby,” he whispers against my mouth, and my dumb heart trips up like I’m not used to this. But I’m not used to this. Having someone so close and wanting them even closer.
I think I make an affirmative sound, since with one more squeeze to my upper back, and one last feather-kiss, Hunter gets into the driver’s seat and cranks the engine over. I force my legs to walk up the parking lot, and climb up the stairs without looking back, even though every muscle wants to riot against that order and get one last look of my boys taking off for the day.
Stop being so pathetic, you’re going to see him in nine hours, anyway. Calm down.
I try to take my own advice, but it’s hard.
***
Nothing happens for weeks and weeks and weeks. Hunter never pushes me, never asks for more than I can give, and it’s starting to worry me. So I do something that calms me when I get nervous, or feel uncertain about my future.
I buy nerdy shirts.
I may have overstepped my bounds. Probably. Most definitely. Yeah, I did.
I bought Matty a nerdy t-shirt that says ‘I am a Jedi like my father before me’. I’m not sure Hunter will get it since he’s never seen Star Wars which I plan to fix tonight.
Still. I don’t know how to proceed here. I’m not Matty’s mom, do I even have a right to want to clothe him in nerd-gear? And what if Hunter wants his son to be totally nerd free? I mean, he already knows about Harry Potter, why not the rest?
My logic is flawless.
I knock on the door, wearing jeans and yup, a nerdy shirt that says ‘Run like Loki Laufeyson is waiting for you at the finish line.’ What I wouldn’t give to have Tom Hiddleston in full Loki costume at the finish line of a race. Probably my right kidney. To be honest, I’d give my entire nerd collection, and watch it burn to ash to have Hunter there waiting for me. Even if he doesn’t know my secret; that he’s stolen my heart.
Not that I’m going to tell him anytime soon, because it’s madness, and I don’t want to be Sparta-kicked into a pit of despair. No, thanks. I knock on Hunter’s apartment door, waiting for him to let me in.
“Hi,” I say, overcome with shyness. Jesus, it’s not like I’m walking in naked!
My hand is grabbed, while the one with Matty’s t-shirt is hidden behind my back as a surprise. Hunter kisses my knuckles, and drags me forward until, having no hands to stop the collision, I collide with his chest with an oof, and stare up at him while I watch his eyes darken and his nostrils flare. His face gets closer and closer until I lose focus, fluttering my eyes closed until I get his mouth on mine.
I didn’t know there were different types of kisses that went with moods. I mean, duh, I’ve read about it, but to experience it is something else. Hunter licks at my mouth, and when I open for him, his tongue tangles with mine, dominating mine so I can’t breathe or think. He tastes me, a growl rumbling in his throat, his hands at my hips dragging me closer and closer to him until I feel him hard against my belly.
I did that. I made him like that.
I really, really wish Matty went to bed early. Like now.
Hunter nips at my mouth, little stings that he soothes with his tongue, angry and sorry at the same time.
We both pull back, panting. I’m trying to decide if I want to sit down, or run to his bedroom and scream: ‘Have your way with me!’ before Matty decides for us.
“I’m starving. Where is the food? It isn’t broccoli again, is it?”