He nodded and seemed to contemplate that information for a minute before speaking again. “If I’d been waiting for you and some dude let himself in and I walked out and was greeted by his cock, I’m pretty sure I’d be pissed off. Pretty sure he’d also have gotten a black eye before I stormed the fuck out.”
Ten minutes ago, I couldn’t have imagined he could say anything to make me feel better. But somehow, him putting himself in my place alleviated a lot of the anger. I was still hurt, but he’d cooled my fire.
“Did she have to have such an amazing body and be such a knockout?”
“She doesn’t hold a candle to you. Not by a mile.”
Either he had poor vision or was a good liar, because he sounded pretty damn sincere.
Reaching out, he took one of my hands in his. “It was once after a holiday party a long time ago. I didn’t even know she was in town and wouldn’t have cared if I had.”
I nodded.
He pulled me to him, and I didn’t fight it when he wrapped his arms around me for a long, tight embrace. Somewhere along the line, I lost the rest of my fight, and I hugged him back.
“Sweet pea,” he lowered his head to my neck. “Never knew what it smelled like until I met you, and now I can’t stop smelling it everywhere and thinking of you.”
***
Hunter took a shower after the drama had passed. He’d been at a construction site all morning and then traveled all afternoon to get home. The entire week I’d been imagining we’d rip each other’s clothes off the minute we were finally alone in his apartment, but the impromptu visit from the neighbor had dampened the expected mood—at least until he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and looking insanely hot.
I’ve never been a good poker player. I wear my emotions on my face. Hunter caught me visually gulping his body, and perhaps I unknowingly drooled a little as I stared at the carved lines of his chest. Jesus. Men didn’t look like him in real life. Maybe the men on the advertisement painted outside the gym I belonged to but seldom visited…but not real, live men. His abs were defined and neatly cut into eight peaks and valleys that I wanted to trace with my tongue. If it were possible, his broad shoulders looked even wider without a shirt, and I couldn’t even begin to explain what the deep-set V that disappeared into his low-hanging towel did to me.
“Are we good?” Hunter’s voice was hoarse. “Because if you keep looking at me that way, I’m going to bend you over that couch you’re sitting on and give you the rest of the tour of my body from the inside out. But I’d rather not fuck you the first time when you’re pissed off.”
My eyes jumped to his, and he smirked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to fuck you pissed off. Preferably with both of us pissed off. Just not the first time.”
I swallowed. “We’re good.”
He kept the distance between us, which made me think he needed it to keep his control. “You hungry?”
Taking a lesson from his playbook, I arched a brow in response.
He chuckled. “You’re going to be the death of me. I just know it.” He scrubbed both hands over his face. “Did you eat dinner yet?”
I actually hadn’t, but food wasn’t on my priority list at the moment. “I’m not that hungry.”
“I’ll order us something.” While he was talking, my eyes dropped back down to follow the light line of hair that ran from his belly button into his towel. Hunter mumbled as he walked to the bedroom, “You’re making it very difficult to do the right thing.”
***
Hunter grabbed two throw pillows from the couch and tossed them on the floor. “Alright if we eat in here?”
“I’d like that.”
He put on some background music and grabbed a bottle of wine while I unloaded the takeout Chinese food. I loved that one night he made me dinner and served it on the kitchen island, and the next he handed me chopsticks and a container. There was something so intimate about eating at the coffee table. I’d ordered cashew chicken, and he’d ordered shrimp chow mein. Every once in a while, he’d hold out his container, and we’d swap and exchange smiles.
When I wasn’t running away from him literally or figuratively, I really did enjoy his company.
“How was your trip?” I asked.
“Busy. The client changed his mind about forty times before settling on what I’d proposed in the first place.”
I flashed a cheeky grin. “Sounds familiar—you must bring that out in people.”
He chuckled. “How was your week? Visit with the ex go okay?”