Make Up to Break Up
I texted Hunter and told him to come in through Falcon’s bedroom window. He tapped on the glass six minutes later. I pushed the curtains wide open and unlock the latches on the window, quietly lifting it up. From what I remember, I know Falcon is seriously pissed. He doesn’t need to find me and Hunter in his bedroom on top of that. The frosty night air blows in as Hunter throws a leg over the ledge and climbs in. The windows to Falcon’s house are low to the ground and as accessible as a door.
Once he’s fully inside, I shut the window and draw the curtains. When I whirl around, Hunter is an inch away from my face. He wears his usual attire: a black hoodie, dark denim jeans, and navy blue Van sneakers. He raises his arms, placing his hands on either side of my face, looking intently into my eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No.” I peer into his sapphire eyes and lose my breath.
His brows frown as his forehead creases in confusion. “What’s the matter then?”
“I remember everything. I didn’t sleep with Max. He just took me to his place because I didn’t want to go home. The asshole who gave me the pills bit me, not Max. Max didn’t even touch me.”
His head jerks back and his eyes narrow, a perplexed expression contorting his features. His hands drop to his sides and he takes a step back. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this after what I did to you?”
I immediately correct the distance between us. “You were angry. It’s understandable. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
He takes another step backwards, raking a hand through disheveled golden locks. “No, it’s not okay. God, Isabel, I’m positive I gave you a concussion. I’m fucked in the head. Can’t you see me for who I am?”
I step closer until our chests touch. Tentatively reaching up, my fingers smooth the wrinkles between his brows. A face like his shouldn’t be twisted with pain and worry. “I do see you for who you are. You’re a hero. You saved my life. Thank you.”
His long fingers fully circle my wrist, bringing my hand down from his face. “Just to put it back in jeopardy. We can’t do this. It’s wron—”
Standing on my tiptoes, I crush my mouth on his, causing our teeth to clash. We’re both stunned for a moment. Our lips rest against one another, our breathing heavy and rapid as we inhale each other’s air. He’s still holding my wrist in his hand. I motion for him to let it go. He does and my hand slips into his. I interlock our fingers, kissing the corner of his mouth and then the other.
He shuts his eyes and groans, trying to step back. But I simply move forward, squeezing his hand tighter.
“I forgive you, Hunter. What we’re doing isn’t wrong at all. It isn’t wrong because I say it isn’t and that’s the only thing that should matter, right?”
He just continues to stare all wide-eyed and bewildered. He’s as still as a stone. His hand loosens around mine. Untangling my fingers from his, I drag his sweatshirt and his white T-shirt over his head, yanking it off his limp arms.
The sharp intake of breath is not retractable with good reason as I gawk at his bare, sculpted, and sun-kissed chest. Every muscle in his core is beyond cut and defined. My mouth goes dry. I don’t think I ever saw him this close without a shirt, at least not as an adult.
Apprehensively, my palms explore the front wall of his exposed beauty. His skin is taut yet baby-smooth. The scent of outdoorsy rain and Hunter’s own masculine fragrance penetrates my nostrils, causing me to become heady.
Hunter inhales a shallow breath, his pupils dilating.
My heart rate soars as I stare into darkening cerulean blue eyes. Pausing, I nervously, run my tongue across my chapped bottom lip, biting on the side of it.
His eyes follow the route of my tongue, and he licks his own, as if the anticipation and hunger is barely contained. He dips his head towards me. Hunter attentively presses wet kisses on my right shoulder and along the side of my neck, tracing the length of my jaw with his delicious tongue.
A mixture between a grunt and moan slides out my throat, surprising my own ears. I don’t sound like myself, I sound so whiny and desperately in need of something. His hands cradle my face and he gives me the sweetest kiss on the lips. It’s full of warmth and passion that my legs give way from under me, and I collapse into him.
My lungs burn for more oxygen, I didn’t realize I am holding my breath until my lungs begin to ache for fresh air. It’s like my world is spinning.
Hunter’s arms curl around my waist and he holds me firmly against him. He tucks my head under his chin. His enormous erection prods my stomach through the fabric of his jeans.
I suck down as much air my lungs can hold. Our irregular heartbeats pound fiercely against one another as our breaths even.
He gives me a tight squeeze, pressing me into his hard-on. “I shouldn’t be here.” Hunter’s hoarse voice is controlled and restrained.
My fingers draw invisible patterns on his sides; he shudders and squeezes me tighter. “Stay,” I whisper.
“I don’t think I should, Isabel.”
“Please? I promise to behave. I just need you to stay for a little while. Please?” I’ve been reduced to begging, but I don’t care. When it comes to Hunter, I’ll beg and plead until I can’t rasp another word.
“Isabel—”
“Please, Hunter?” My fingers dig into his flesh. “Pretty please?”
His mouth quirks up on the sides, just a tiny smile that sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Okay, but only until you fall off to sleep.” He releases me and takes a step back. He stares at me for a long moment, eyes running down the length of my body and back again. I sway on the balls of my feet from his intense once-over. My face heats, and I can feel my cheeks flood with blush.
He takes my hand and we move to the bed. “Nice nightie. It’s kinda old school, but I like it.”
“Ha ha,” I say sarcastically. “I probably look like Mrs. Franklin. All I need is the pink sponge hair rollers, the hot pink robe decorated with white kittens, and bright fuzzy slippers that don’t match at all.”
His body shakes with silent laughter as he pulls the covers back and we climb in. “You’re wrong,” he replies as he lies next to me.
I snuggle closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. “About?”
“About looking like Mrs. Franklin.”
Tipping my head back, I glance at him, confused.
“You see, Mrs. Franklin is hawt. She’s the shit, and she’s at least three hundred percent better lookin’ than you.”
My brows draw together and I pout, pretending to be wounded by his hilarious comment. “Ouch. I didn’t know you’re such a cub.”
“Cub?”
“Yeah…a cub. You’re into the cougars, but in Mrs. Franklin’s case, she’s an ancient dinosaur.”
I’m graced with a cheery smile with many glossy white teeth. “Hater much?”
“Pee-yew.” I dramatically close my eyes and scrunch up my nose as if I smell something offensive. “Do I smell Similac on your breath?”
He tosses his head back and release a deep throaty laugh.
My hand quickly flies to his mouth to cover it. “Shut that beautiful mouth of yours before you get me in trouble.”
He playfully wiggles his brows, nipping at my palm.
I gasp, pulling my hand away. “You’re going to stop biting me one day.”
“Today is not that day, my sweet.”
I poke my tongue out and roll my eyes like a petulant four-year-old child.
It feels good to joke with Hunter this way. When we were younger we used to tease each other all the time. And Hunter was the best to be carefree and goofy with. He had the best comebacks. We haven’t been together like this in so long.
His smile broadens and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re still a hater, though. Mrs. Franklin is the shit, and I bet her pussy is way sweeter than yours.”
Reaching up, I squeeze his right nipple with all the strength I can muster. “Mrs. Franklin smells like shit. I’m sure her bowels are shot to shit, pun intended.”
His body starts to shake with uncontrollable laughter.
“Shut up before I gag you with something.” But I’m laughing, too. My fingers are still latched onto his nipple without mercy.
Something dark and sinister lurks behind those gorgeous eyes that stare back at me. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, maybe my hand again.”
“Oh, I’m thinking your panties will work much better.”
The air leaves my lungs in a shaky whimper that I release across his face.
He narrows his eyes, sinking his teeth into his supple bottom lip.
“I-I think,” I stutter and swallow hard, “I think I love you, Hunter Knight.”
His eyes widen and his browns lift in shock. An intense emotion contorts his face. He looks upset about what I just said. It’s uncanny how ill I physically feel now. I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi-truck, set on fire, and stomped on by million people all at once.
Feeling like a wounded animal, I scoot away, over to my side of the bed. I need some kind of distance. His scent alone is suffocating me.
Hunter sighs, reaches out and wraps a big, demanding hand around my arm, pulling back into his embrace, tucking my head under his chin.
I throw my arms around his sides, pressing my cheek flat against his left pec and breathing in his unique masculine scent. His strong heart thuds audibly against my heated cheek. And for a moment, we just hold each other in comfortable silence.
Hunter buries his nose and mouth in my hair, inhaling deeply. “Maybe in some other universe, some other time, some other world, you could be mine and I could be yours. We’d become best friends again. Then we’d date; I’d learn how to love you in all the right ways you deserve. We’d travel the world. I’d ask you to marry me in some ridiculously romantic way and we’d have babies, as many as you want. They’d look like you, of course. We’d raise them to be good and wholesome people. We’d watch them grow up and get married and have babies of their own and spoil our grandkids to the limit as they got older. Then, and only then, when you’re old and gray by my side, I could die a fulfilled and sated man. That would be the story of our life, but it’ll never happen. It’ll never happen because we can never happen.”