Preparing for Babies & Two Hunter’s
Isabel watches as I roll on the second layer of paint. I’m painting our children’s room a soft pastel yellow while she adds the flowy white lace curtains to the windows. We decided on painting the nursery yellow because it was Isabel’s mother’s favorite color. Yellow is warm. Yellow reminds me of the sun.
I like yellow.
“Oh, wow. It’s getting pretty in here,” Charlie says, lifting his head from under the wooden cradle he’s putting together. He drills in a screw and smiles over at us. “I’m proud of the both of you, you know. I’m one extremely satisfied old man, Hunter.” Charlie has unofficially moved in with us. That’s fine, though. He doesn’t want to go back to Charlotte and I’m not going to make him.
Isabel’s eyes water. “Charlie,” she says thickly.
His jolly face gentles further. “The both of you will do a great job raising my great grandbabies. I have no doubt about it.”
“No cookies for you, old man, if you make my woman cry,” I warn, my expression playful.
Charlie smiles harder, securing the last screw. “Alright, then. Isabel, wipe those tears. No crying women allowed.” He winks at her. “I like my cookies way too much for that.” He carefully lifts himself up, dusting his hands on his worn pants. “I’ll let you guys finish here. My back is aching. I’ve been on the floor most of the afternoon. I’m no spring chicken anymore.” With that said, he leaves.
Dropping the paint roller, I clasp Isabel’s hand in mine, pulling her out the room and down the spiral staircase to the kitchen. “Let’s take a break. Are you hungry?”
She holds on to my hand, smiling up at me, her green eyes twinkling. “Yes.”
“Hmm,” I contemplate loudly. “How about turkey and Swiss sandwiches?”
“Sounds good.”
She takes a seat on the barstool at the breakfast bar and taps her fingers idly on the granite as I pull out the ingredients for sandwiches. “I want to talk to you about something.”
“I’m listening,” I say, spreading mayo on two slices of bread.
“The Winter Ball is coming.” She pauses and blows out a nervous breath. “I want to know if you want to go with me.”
“Of course,” I answer, adding thin slices of turkey and cheese to the sandwiches. “Why was there so much hesitation to ask me?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to go. I mean, you didn’t mention it and it is November.”
“Didn’t think you wanted to go.” Placing the food on a pale green plate, I set it on the granite and slide on the stool next to her. “We can go. I’ll be happy to go with you.” Her jade green eyes transform into a darker shade of butter toffee. I know when Isabel’s eyes darken or change color that she’s in the mood for sex and love making. I’ve grown accustom to her insatiable desires. But I can’t give her what she wants at this moment. I must feed my pregnant fiancée. We’ve had a very busy day.
Grinning at her, I tap on her soft lips with my fingers. “Open. I need to feed you, my little hornball.”
She frowns as I hold up the sandwich to her lips, but she obediently takes a bite. “I’m not a hornball.” I make a face, my expression skeptical and she laughs, then she takes another bite. “Okay. Well if I am a hornball it’s completely your fault, Hunter. You impregnated me with not one baby, but two. And my emotions are all over the place. My body is changing, stretching. My breasts are aching and swollen. My nipples are very sore and I feel bloated all the time. I think I look like a round beach whale. But then you look at me like I’m the only girl in the world, I melt into goo. All I want to do then is to have your hands and mouth on me.”
I feed her another bite, wiping the breadcrumbs off her dusky red lips. “You really know how to make me feel good, don’t you?”
“It’s the truth,” she counters. “You make me feel good all the time. You’ve been sweet and kind to me.” Isabel searches my eyes. We stare at each other for an infinite about of time. I break out into a smile because she’s digging for something I just don’t know what.
“Yes?” I ask, feeding the half eaten sandwich to myself.
“You’ve been sweet and kind to me,” she prompts. “Which means I am in a world of trouble.”
“Is it so hard to believe I’ve changed?”
“Yes. Sometimes.” She’s honest with her answer, and I more than like that.
“Ouch,” I tease. “Well, I have changed in certain aspects, Isabel. Like I said before, I’m not here to burden you. I’m here to support you, love you, and protect you.”
“I’m starting to get the gist of that,” she replies through a smile. “I might miss the unpredictable Hunter. He was…exciting.”
Smirking, I raise my brows. My thoughts have now darkened to a malevolent level I’m sure she’ll enjoy. “But if you’re in the mood for something more dangerous,” I say enticingly, “then follow me.” I rise to my feet, not bothering to look back.
I know she’s behind me.
Isabel follows me inside the kitchen pantry. I lean over her to shut the door. Lowering my eyes to hers, I take a step towards her. She takes a step back, her eyes wide and her lips parted. We do this dance until I have her cornered into the wall by a shelf of snacks.
“What are we doing in here?” she asks quietly.
I swiftly reach out to grip her jaw with my hand, squeezing her cheeks together until her lips are forced to pucker, then I take her mouth in a long and possessive kiss. My tongue darts into her mouth and claims it. She seems dazed when I pull back to stare into her eyes. “I’m thinking Charlie won’t hear your screams in here,” I say, gliding my hands up her thighs to pull down her panties.
She grins, leaning into me. “Hunter―”
“No, Isabel. You don’t have the right to talk right now,” I rebuke sharply. “You gave that right up when you followed me.”
Her face blanches and she shallows nervously.
I do nothing to conceal the arrogant smile on my face while I savor her fear, letting it drip from her tense body and build until it becomes thick, electrifying the still air around us. Isabel’s unease is as palpable as my touch. That evokes the twisted, sadistic side of me that I’ve kept carefully contained in a small box inside of myself. Now I’m afraid that my control has slipped and vanished into thin air while we’re in this confined space and in close proximity of each other.
I’m going to teach my fiancée a lesson on how to accept the consequences of what she asks for. I told her once that there are repercussions for her actions. Isabel may have forgotten, but I shall remind her now and refresh her memory.
She wants the perverse Hunter and the sweet Hunter.
Isabel wants it all.
I can be both men for her.
That’s a challenge I’m willing to take.
Her panicked gaze drops down to my hand as I slowly undo my belt buckle.
She gulps.
I smile.