This seemed to pump Brooklyn up in a way Samantha wouldn’t have predicted. “I can do that.”
But Hunter wasn’t done. “Foster made poor business decisions. They’re a multimillion-dollar company, and that Royce guy with the plastic hair could have bet it all away at the racetrack, for all we know. You did not single-handedly take down Foster Foods. You’re not that powerful, are you?”
“No. I mean, it would be awesome if I were. But I’m not.” Brooklyn seemed to sit a little taller.
“So, the loss of the account was out of your hands. We wowed them every step of the way. You wowed them. And if they bounce back, you’ll wow them again. If not, you’ll work your magic on the accounts Mal is going to land to replace them.” Brooklyn nodded five or six times, taking it all in. Her resolve seemed much stronger, and Sam passed Hunter an appreciative smile.
“I’m really sorry about tonight, Sam. I really miss you and was looking forward to it. I’ve just been so stressed that I got my days jumbled.”
“Don’t fucking let it happen again,” Samantha said harshly. Brooklyn’s eyes went wide and Sam smiled. “Kidding. Was just trying the Hunter approach, but I’ll stick with what I’m good at. Now hug me like you love me, ’cuz you do.”
Brooklyn threw her arms around Sam. “I do love you. More than the moon and covered bridges and root beer and fast cars.”
“That’s a lot,” Samantha said, squeezing her back.
“And maybe we can do Throwback Movie Wednesday on Make-Up Thursday?”
Sam lit up. “I like Make-Up Thursday. It’s new.”
Hunter looked on. “Perfect.” Friend fest was clearly in full effect. “You guys are quirky and weird again. Excellent. Wine, Brooks?”
Brooklyn stood. “Better not. I need to get into the office early tomorrow. I’ll let you two get back to whatever it was you were doing.” At that, Samantha’s gaze brushed Hunter’s, and a surge of heat raced through her at the memory of where they’d left off. With a quick final hug to both, a decidedly much happier Brooklyn headed home for the night.
As the loft door thudded closed, silence reigned.
Not really sure what to do with herself, Samantha took to straightening up the place. “It’s getting late,” she said. It was really just something to say. She wasn’t tired, and in fact would probably read for another hour or so before bed. Bridget Jones’s Diary was on tap. She loved an underdog. And luckily, the mood from earlier had been broken. The courage she’d found to initiate that kiss had been crazily out of character for her. She’d been reckless and blamed the wine. She should stick to a zero to one glass limit on weeknights from here forward. Zero was probably in her best interest these days.
“I’ll help.” Hunter grabbed her own glass and the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. They met at the kitchen sink, reaching across each other to deposit the dishes. Their shoulders touched, and that was really all it took for Samantha. She stole a sideways glance at Hunter, who really was just so beautiful.
“Hey,” Hunter said.
“Hey, yourself. Pass me that glass?”
Hunter did as she was asked. “So…”
“Well, don’t hog all of the words.”
Hunter grinned into the sink. “I guess I don’t know exactly what to say, which is odd.”
“I guess that makes two of us.”
The first time they’d kissed, she’d been so caught off guard that she’d felt her way through it blindly, only relishing the exchange in the moments after. The replay. This second time, she’d known enough to appreciate what was happening, but it had been so damn short-lived with Brooklyn’s interruption.
And now what? Now you ignore that tingly feeling in the pit of your stomach and the obvious urges elsewhere. You also ignore your preoccupation with Hunter’s awesomely full lips, and you go to bed. Put some distance between the two of you. Now. “I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Hunter leaned against the counter. “We should probably get some sleep.”
“Right.” Sam gestured to the puzzle. “But we’re going to finish this, right? We have to.”
Hunter smiled at her. “Of course. It’s a puzzle rule. Once you start, you have to finish.”
“All right, roommate, I’m holding you to it. Because tonight, well…it was much needed. It made me want to have more nights like this one.”
Hunter held her gaze and Sam felt the sincerity pass between them. “Me, too.”
She needed to walk away now. It was important that she walk away. “Well, good night.”
“’Night, Sam.”
Once she was safely tucked away in her room, she blew out a breath. Crisis averted, at least temporarily. But she’d stirred the pot. She’d initiated the kiss that had her knees going weak. And thank God Brooklyn had interrupted. Where would it have led otherwise? Her lips on Hunter’s. Their bodies pressed together. Her hands wandering underneath Hunter’s shirt, exploring the breasts that—God, she was doing it all over again.
Samantha looked at her reflection in the mirror. “You,” she said to herself, “are an idiot.” God, why did life have to be so complicated? But it had been a good move, sidestepping whatever was bubbling between her and Hunter, even though she was super tempted to just give herself over to it. Live a little.
She needed to think it through from a few different directions and then come up with a plan that would help them push past this little blip in their relationship so life could be normal again. Because the tension that seemed to have taken up residence between them was not of the friend variety. She had a couple of options: run with the newfound chemistry or fight it. And choice two simply had to be the way to go, because Hunter was one person she simply could not get involved with. Excellent decision. Go her!
But her victory celebration was cut short by the knock on her door. She dropped her head in defeat, and pep-talked herself the short distance it took to open it. But as soon as she did, all bets were off. Hunter stood there, her gaze purposeful, her lips parted slightly, and Sam knew she was in trouble. Hunter, who was usually cool and calm, was seemingly on a mission, and it was sexy as hell. Sam was pretty sure Hunter had a few complicated ideas of her own. Without a word spoken, they moved to each other and met in a kiss that couldn’t be described as sweet or tender or slow.
No, this was primal and fast and unbridled, a clash of lips and tongues, and it was way past good.
Hunter kissed her with abandon—hard, thorough, aggressive. And she gave back just as much, surprising even herself. But kissing this woman was like a newly discovered drug. Sam felt alive in a way she hadn’t in so long.
Sam backed them farther into the room, her need shooting up exponentially with each step she took. Hunter’s hands were on her now, and that was excellent because she craved that. First they moved to Sam’s waist, then her rib cage. They covered her breasts, and Sam moaned into the kiss as a sharp bolt of heat shot quickly from her center downward. She pushed her tongue into Hunter’s mouth and explored, the taste of her making Sam forget all the reasons this was a bad idea. Had this off-the-charts sizzle been between them this whole time? As they sat together in the Savvy offices all these years, they’d been capable of this?
Amazing.
Clothes were coming off, she realized absently.
She was undressing Hunter, breaking the kiss only to navigate pulling the shirt over Hunter’s head. And there, standing in front of her in just a black bra and panties, was the Victoria’s Secret body that should have come with a warning label, because the slender lines that melted to sexy curves were doing a number on Sam’s ability to think clearly. But there was no time for that anyway. Samantha wanted to feel that body against hers. She found Hunter’s mouth again and steered them toward her bed on a mission. She would deal with the ramifications later.
They landed on the soft duvet, which evened out their height difference nicely. Hunter was on top and moving against her subtly, kissing Samantha’s neck with skilled precision. Their pace wa
s fast and purposeful. As intoxicating as this whole experience was, Sam knew she wasn’t going to last much longer as she met each movement of Hunter’s hips, straining already for sweet release. She was on fire, the aching between her legs insistent. As if reading her mind, Hunter made quick work of the T-shirt Sam wore and undid the clasp of her bra with one hand. Impressive, the real-life version of herself thought. But the sex vixen in her didn’t dwell, and pushed her hands into Hunter’s hair, thick and glorious.
Hunter’s head dipped to Samantha’s breast and caught a nipple, swirling her tongue against it, taking it fully in her mouth. Samantha almost came undone then and there, pushing harder against Hunter’s knee, the throbbing now too much to withstand. Without shifting attention from her breasts, Hunter reached into Sam’s pants and stroked her softly on the outside of her underwear. “More,” Sam breathed. She was dying, simply dying. Taking matters into her own hands, she grabbed the sides of Hunter’s panties and pushed them down as much as her position would allow her. She needed to feel Hunter against her before this was over. Fully. Understanding her intention, Hunter kicked off the underwear, tossed her bra onto the floor, and then removed the last of Sam’s clothing in rapid succession. She settled back on top of Samantha. As she pressed against her, skin on skin, Sam’s mind went white. Reaching a hand between them, Hunter slipped inside her and with her thumb offered Samantha attention where she needed it most. With purposeful movement of her hips, cradled between Sam’s open thighs, Hunter pushed against her hand slowly, driving Sam utterly wild. She turned her head against the pillow as the pressure built inside her steadily until she was sure it couldn’t possibly climb any higher. And then she did. Thrust upon thrust sent her to new and unexplored heights she couldn’t quite perceive. Finally, in a burst of pleasure, she came hard and fast, uncontrollably flying. She clutched Hunter and rode out the blissful waves that took her over completely. The expanse of pleasure that crashed into her was shocking.
Hunter generally took her time with sex; she liked the unravel. But something about her desire for Samantha had superseded that preference, and she couldn’t have slowed her pace if she’d tried. Watching Sam during that last moment of release had Hunter more turned on than she’d probably been in her entire life. And what was even more shocking was that, without having been touched much herself yet, she was only moments behind Samantha. She looked down at Sam, whose lips were still parted, whose breathing was still heavy, whose hips still moved against Hunter’s in a rhythmic dance. Samantha was still coming down herself, but she met Hunter’s eyes and seemed to know. She reached between their bodies then, and with only a couple of firm strokes, sent Hunter tumbling over the edge after her. Sam clung to her tightly, rocking her through it. God, the sensations tore through her hard and fast, like no other time she could remember. She felt that pleasure well into her fingertips, her toes, all over. She eased onto the bed next to Samantha and stared up at the ceiling, attempting to breathe, as Sam brought her back down from the last remaining sensations gently, with her hand, placing small kisses on the underside of her jaw.
A moment passed, and Hunter’s sensibilities drifted back to her.
Sam turned her head on the pillow and faced her. “We’re going to hell, you know this.”
Hunter laughed quietly, still on a euphoric high. “We are not. We’re adults. We’re allowed to do that if we want.”
“Adults who are going to hell.” She covered her eyes with both hands.
Hunter’s gaze traveled the expanse of Samantha’s body, on display for her now and everything she imagined it would be. And, okay, more. She really couldn’t get enough of Sam’s breasts. She stared at them now, tracing a nipple with her index finger, causing Sam to inhale sharply.
“You’re good at this, you know that?” Sam said, her eyes still closed.
“At this specifically?” She traced the underside of the curve and leaned down, pulling a nipple into her mouth.
Sam sucked in a breath. “At sex. God, okay, specifically this, too. You have to stop now.”
Hunter propped her head up on her elbow and looked down at Samantha, grinning. “If that’s what you want.”
Sam covered her eyes with both hands. “I don’t know what I want. I can’t believe I just had sex with you. That wasn’t supposed to happen. As in ever.”
Hunter sobered, understanding the importance of the line they’d crossed but trying to help Sam through it. “I know. But there are worse things. Floods. Hurricanes. Republicans. Plus, you have to admit, this was really good. I’m still feeling it.”
Sam stole a peek at her. “It was, wasn’t it? Wasn’t just me?”
Hunter shook her head slowly. “No way.”
“Hot or not, I think we broke some kind of cosmic friend rule.”
“That part’s possible. But sex is part of life. We just have to handle ourselves as such. So we’re physically into each other. There don’t have to be strings. Ramifications.”
Sam pushed herself up onto her elbow. “Are you proposing a friends-with-benefits arrangement?”
Was she? “Maybe, given our recent struggles, that’s not such a horrible idea.”
Samantha stared at the ceiling and Hunter wondered if she’d just said the completely wrong thing. “Well, I am in rebound mode.”
“You are. And I’m not going to complicate your life. You can rebound with me all you want. Plus, we genuinely like each other.”
Samantha stared off. “Could be a win-win.”
“You see who you want to see. I’ll see who I want to see. And if this happens again. Not a big deal. No drama.”
Slipping under the sheet, Samantha blew out a breath. “Okay, no drama. I can do that.”
“And we’re not the first two people on the planet who’ve slept together.”
Samantha laughed. “No?”
“Nope.” Hunter sat up. “But I get why you’re freaking out. Big knives are in the towel drawer.”
Sam passed her a look. “Decode, please?”
“I’m naked in your bed right now, which is not one of my roles in your life. Thereby, I’m not in my proper place. Like the big knives. It’s okay. It’s just how you work. I’m learning this more and more.”
“I guess there’s truth in that.”
Hunter kissed Sam’s cheek and lingered a second, enjoying the scent of Sam’s sweet-smelling shampoo. “I’ll head back to my drawer now. The world will keep turning. I promise. Sweet dreams.” She gathered her various clothing items and without putting them on walked slowly back to her room, feeling Samantha’s eyes on her the entire time.
If she’d peeked into Pandora’s box with that college confession some weeks back, then she’d just blown the whole damn lid off the thing with that little escapade. But maybe this arrangement with Sam was just what she needed to kick her back into business-as-usual mode. The itch wasn’t going away. And now she’d scratched it. Problem solved.
As she climbed into her own bed, a chill moved through her. Much the way it had shortly before the Midnight Chocolate that brought her to the loft in the first place. She pulled the covers tighter around her body and sighed against her pillow. Something important was working its way to her.
Chapter Nine
Hunter checked her watch. Late.
She stood on the white steps in front of the NCO club on Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. It was a quarter to eight and her father’s birthday party had started at six. Her flight had been delayed an hour, and the gate guard was newly on duty and had trouble locating the guest list for the party. Without a military ID, she’d been sent to the visitor’s center to fill out the necessary paperwork. So much for making a good impression.
She made her way into the lobby of the club and could tell from the direction of the music that they’d selected the Daedalian Room for the party. She looked around at the brown tile, the black-and-white photos on the wall of some of the famous squadrons from years gone by, the shadow boxes that commemorated so many of the pilo
ts who’d come before her father. He’d once been a member of the Air Mobility Command Unit, but Hunter couldn’t tell you much about what that was. He’d never really talked about it with her. God, it was surreal to be back on base, though. The same club in which her family’d had breakfast once a month for most of her life. Her mother’s idea. Her father, meanwhile, had spent much of his spare time in the bar straight ahead of her. He wasn’t an alcoholic. In fact, he never had more than a couple drinks at one time. No, it was more about dodging as much time with his kids as he possibly could. Sometimes she wondered why he’d even agreed to have them.
“There you are!” Hunter turned and smiled at her older sister, Claire, who was picturesque in a white dress. Her dark hair was touched with blond highlights and swept into an overly fancy twist. And just like that, Hunter felt underdressed in her black pants and sleeveless dark green sheath.
“Hiya, Claire. Sorry I’m late. The flight.”
“Mama’s been worried sick. She thought you’d changed your mind. Give me a hug, and then come and say hello to everyone.” Claire paused. “Oh. You wore pants. Well, you look nice anyway. It won’t matter.”
“Thanks, I think.” The hug was quick but it was enough for a potent hit of her sister’s Chanel perfume. A trademark. Claire had fully assumed her position as Debutante Barbie—that much was true. Hunter followed her sister into the ballroom, scanning the faces from the perimeter. “Where’s Kevin?” she asked, excited to see her little brother. The kid used to follow her around incessantly, her consummate shadow. The larger age gap made her extra protective of him. While Hunter was only three years younger than Claire, her brother was twelve years her junior and had been a bit of a surprise to her parents. But as a result, they’d avoided the typical sibling bickering, and instead Kevin had developed sort of a hero worship for Hunter. But she adored him right back. He was kind, and funny, and come on, just adorable. He’d turned sixteen this year, and a shot of guilt hit as she remembered she’d not been there to celebrate the occasion. She really needed to be around more for him.
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