Of course, the next room on the tour was Hunter’s bedroom.
“Wow.”
My jaw dropped when he turned on the lights. Just like the other rooms in the house, the space was large and open. A king-size platform bed had been elevated to claim the best view of the forest-like yard from two walls. That view included a birdhouse with a blue jay currently perched on top. I stepped to the windows to peer outside. It wasn’t until I looked closer that I noticed more than one birdhouse. In fact, there were a lot of them.
“Are you a bird watcher?”
“No. My mother was. I always wanted a big Macaw parrot, though. Every year from the time I was able to swing a hammer, I made her a birdhouse for her birthday. She’d put seed in it and watch the birds outside, and I secretly hoped she’d take the hint and get us a bird for inside.” Hunter stood next to me at the window and pointed to a birdhouse hanging from a tree branch off to the right. “That was the first one I made. I was seven. If you look inside, my mother put some plastic birds in there. For the longest time, I thought she did it to attract real birds. But after a few years, she stopped doing it. One year I finally asked her why, and she told me it was because I’d finally learned how to make a good birdhouse. Apparently the plastic birds had nothing to do with attracting other birds. The way I’d built the first couple of houses, I had nails sticking up inside, and she was afraid they were going to impale the birds.”
I laughed. “That’s funny. It’s sweet that she didn’t want to tell you. How many are out there?”
“Ten. I made one each year from seven to seventeen. That’s the only thing she ever asked for.”
“Did you stop making them when you went to college?”
“No. She passed away when I was seventeen.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” He looked around outside. “She would have liked this place. If I put a little birdseed on a few of them, it turns into an aviary out there.”
I looked over at Hunter, who was still staring out the window. He looked younger in the natural light. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
He turned his attention back to me. “That’s what I tried to tell you the first night we met. There’s a lot more for you to see. And we happen to be in the perfect place for me to show you.”
His words were teasing, but when he reached out, grabbed my hip, and took a step closer, there was nothing funny about the things my body felt.
Over the last nine months, I’d dated a few different men. None of them had lit my fuse like Hunter could with one simple touch. In fact, the difference was so apparent that I’d talked myself into believing my memory had exaggerated what the man did to me. Apparently, the only thing exaggerated was my denial.
“Kiss me.” His voice dipped low, and he reached up to brush his fingers over my lips. “I’ve had fucking dreams about this mouth.”
“That’s not a good idea.” I didn’t sound convincing, even to myself.
“It’s a very good idea.” He leaned his head down slowly.
“We have errands to do.”
“They can wait. One kiss.”
I wasn’t sure I could control myself after one kiss with this man. He moved slowly, as if giving me a chance to stop him, which is what I planned to do. Only my body was at total odds with my brain, and while they were busy fighting it out in a massive tug of war, Hunter’s lips sealed over mine.
I’d forgotten how soft his lips were. They directly contradicted the firmness of his touch when he wrapped his arms around me and closed the gap between us. Even though I’d forced myself to forget the way his touch felt, my body had not forgotten how to react. Instinctively, my legs lifted and wrapped around his waist. Hunter walked us back away from the windows, and before I could register where we were going, plush bedding was at my back.
“Hunter,” I feebly attempted to protest.
“Just a kiss,” he growled. “For now.”
It had been years since I’d had a real make-out session. Our bodies were tangled, his hard pressed against my soft. I groped his hair, his back, anything I could get my hands on to bring him closer. Every nerve ending in my body ached for more as I kissed him with more passion than I could remember having with anyone.
I’d been kissed hundreds of times, yet it was as exciting as that first make-out session when I was a teenager—maybe even more so, because no teenage boy’s body felt like Hunter Delucia’s hard one did pressed against me.
I vaguely felt vibration up against my hip, but my entire body was buzzing, so it didn’t register as a cell phone until it stopped and then started again a second time. “Your—”