"Hunter…" she whimpered, whether in passion or distress, he couldn't say.
"Shh." He quieted her with a kiss.
As her hips rocked in cadence with his thrusting finger, her bottom ground against his aching erection, snapping the fragile thread of his control. Withdrawing his hand, he wrenched her underpants down her legs and over her ankle boots, ripping the flimsy fabric in the process. His movements were quick now, almost rough; he was deaf to his internal censor, too far gone for second thoughts.
He brought her left leg over his hips so that she straddled him, even as he unzipped his pants and released his engorged penis. Holding Raven steady, he rammed into her hard and fast. Her short, piercing scream reverberated in the confines of the car. She was tight, mind-numbingly tight. Pulling her against him, he forced himself higher, deeper, as a guttural sound rumbled up his throat.
Her inner muscles gripped him, goaded him. He responded with a savage thrust, and another. His fingers bit into her flesh as he raised and lowered her on his pumping hips, mindlessly seeking the merciful oblivion of release. That release came with such guilt-driven haste that Raven never had a chance to reach her own climax.
But even in the grip of his blinding orgasm, even as he emptied himself into her, his shame was stamped so deeply on his soul that it seared him like a brand. He was left spent and winded, consumed by self-loathing, unable to face the woman he loved.
The humid, musky warmth inside the car was suddenly suffocating. Gently Hunter lifted Raven off him. He zipped his pants and dropped her car keys on the dash, and let himself out into the stinging downpour.
* * *
Chapter 14
«^»
The pounding didn't wake Hunter. He was already wide-awake, having spent a second sleepless night wondering how he would ever be able to face his brother again. The booming voice on the other side of his apartment door told him he was about to find out.
"Hunter, let me in, damn it!" The pounding increased: bang! bang! bang!
Hunter glanced at his wrist, only to find it bare. The morning TV talk shows he'd been listlessly channel surfing had been on for about half an hour, so he figured it must be around seven-thirty.
Brent knew Hunter usually slept until at least ten, after getting home from the club 2:00 a.m. on weekdays. The list of what could have brought Brent to his brother's door at seven-thirty in the morning was woefully short. Either someone had died or—
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Open up!"
Raven had told him.
Mrs. Flynn from across the hall hollered at Brent to knock it off, people were trying to sleep. Hunter clicked the TV off with the remote control, abandoned the sofa where he'd been sprawled and padded barefoot to the front door, clad in an undershirt and navy sweatpants.
As he unlocked the door, his entire body tensed in anticipation—an automatic fight-or-flight response that was superfluous in this case, considering that he had no intention of doing either. If Brent had come here to mete out punishment for his kid brother's monumental act of betrayal, then the kid brother would damn well stand there and take it like a man.
Hunter paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob. He took a breath, let it out, swung open the door.
And flew backward as the heel of Brent's hand rammed his shoulder. He staggered and steadied himself, his fingers reflexively curling into fists despite his grim resolve to let his brother beat the hell out of him.
"I bet you thought this day would never come!" Brent roared, kicking the door shut with a flourish.
Hunter backed up a step or two, rubbing his shoulder, trying to decipher the peculiar euphoric look on his brother's face. Was he drunk?
Or simply relishing the anticipation?
Brent advanced on him, that maniacal grin still pasted on his face. "Ask me why I'm here." He shoved Hunter again. "Ask me what was so important I had to come here and roust you out of bed." Another shove, till Hunter was backed against the coffee table. "Go ahead, ask me."
He's lost it, Hunter thought. He's gone over the edge. And I put him there.
Brent waited, eager and bright-eyed, for Hunter to play along and ask.
"Uh … okay," Hunter said at last. "What brings you here?"
Brent's hand darted into the breast pocket of his brown leather bomber jacket. Hunter's arms jerked up in a defensive gesture, much to his brother's amusement.
"You always so jumpy when you don't get your beauty rest?" Brent asked. "Speaking of which, I don't mind telling you, you look like hell, Bro."
Hunter was only half listening. He was staring at what Brent had taken out of his pocket. A tiny box dad in burgundy velvet.
A ring box.
Hunter's sleep-deprived mind debated whether he might at this moment be dreaming, as Brent held the box in front of his face and opened it. A hefty diamond winked from its nest of white satin, a classic round-cut stone perched in an equally classic yellow gold setting.
"An old-fashioned ring for an old-fashioned girl," Brent proclaimed.
An old-fashioned girl. "You bought this for Raven?"
"Who else, Bro? Think she'll like it?" Brent peered closely at the ring. "The guy said I could bring it back and pick one out with her, but I'm pretty sure she'll go for this one."
Brent didn't know, then. Raven hadn't told him. She'd had all yesterday to do it, to confess to Brent about what had happened in her car in the parking lot behind Stitches, and she'd chosen not to.
And now Brent had bought an engagement ring for his old-fashioned girlfriend.
Six weeks has passed since Hunter's "if I'd met her first" admission. Brent's initial ire had gradually cooled off, and just last week he'd offered an awkward apology to Hunter for having flown off the handle. He'd made a couple of lame jokes about lusting after most of Hunter's girlfriends, and had assured him that he trusted him. At that point, after not having laid eyes on Raven for over two weeks, Hunter almost believed himself worthy of that trust
"She's coming over tonight," Brent said, snapping the box shut and tucking it back into his jacket. "Twelve hours from now, I'll be an engaged man. Too late for you to steal her away from me." Chuckling, he aimed a mock one-two punch at Hunter's midsection. Hunter flinched, his abs tightening painfully, though Brent's fists never made contact.
"Hey, you really are jumpy." Brent slapped him on the shoulder. "Listen, go back to bed. I'm on my way to an early meeting at the magazine. Just wanted to drop by and give you the good news." He turned to let himself out.
"How do you know she'll say yes?"
Brent spun back toward him. "What? Of course she'll say yes. What do you think she's been waiting for all this time?"
Two months didn't seem like "all this time" to Hunter, but he supposed to truly marriage-minded people in their thirties, it might constitute a long-term relationship.
Hunter had intended to confess all to Brent, as soon he could figure out a way to say it. Part of him wanted to blurt it out now, to exorcize it, to take this crushing burden of guilt and catapult it into the open. The admission wouldn't alleviate his shame, but it would provide a much-needed catharsis.
But what would it do to Brent? And Raven? What had happened between Hunter and Raven was his fault, not hers. Not that she hadn't been willing, but he was the one who'd gone after her when she'd tried to leave, he was the one who'd bullied his way into her car. He'd taken advantage of her emotional vulnerability and her physical attraction to him, exploiting them for his own gratification.
Certainly not for hers. He'd used her roughly, and left her unsatisfied. Hunter had always prided himself on being an unselfish lover; he'd always taken pains to pleasure his bed partner thoroughly—and safely, never forgetting to use a condom. But what had he done to the only woman he'd ever loved? Given her the wham-ham treatment and run off without a word.
And now he had to decide whether to tell Brent—the brother who'd practically raised him, the brother whose generosity had made Hunter's
dream of owning his own club a reality—that he'd seduced the woman Brent adored enough to marry.
That adoration went both ways: Raven was in love with Brent. Did Hunter have the heart to destroy their future together? Because that would surely be the result if he unburdened himself to his brother now. If Raven had made the decision not to tell Brent, did Hunter have the right to override that decision?
He had no doubt she was suffering the same guilty anguish as he, possibly even more. Of course, if one considered the fact that Brent had been cheating on her from day one, it could be argued that she had nothing to feel guilty about. Not that she'd see it that way, Hunter knew.
He hoped for Raven's sake that she wasn't pregnant—though the prospect of seeing her grow round with his child brought a stab of longing that took his breath away.
Hunter would marry her if he could. He'd bind her to him with his ring and his seed and the constancy of his love, and she'd be his forever.
Brent grimaced. "The only thing is, Raven found out about Marina. She gave me hell about it Wednesday, when I called her at the club."
Hunter said nothing. He could have told Brent she knew weeks ago.
"I was careless," Brent said. "I didn't cover my tracks well enough and Raven got hurt. I feel shitty about that, but at least now I know she really cares. So to answer your question, yeah, she'll say yes." He patted his chest pocket, where the ring resided. "And anyway, a rock like this can help smooth over a lot of hurt feelings."
Would Brent be a faithful husband? Hunter supposed anything was possible. Brent probably believed he'd been reformed by the love of a good woman, but only time would tell. Hunter hoped to God his brother had gotten his priorities straightened out. Raven deserved a husband who returned her love and fidelity in full measure.
"You've been seeing a lot of Marina," Hunter said.
Brent shrugged, but Hunter was watching his eyes, and they told an interesting story. Now that he thought about it, Hunter was pretty sure Brent hadn't fooled around with any other women after he met Marina. It would seem he'd been cheating on Raven only with the vegetarian, miniature-collecting swimsuit model.
Was there such a thing as monogamous infidelity?
"Didn't you tell me you were only going to see her a couple of times?" Hunter persisted.
"It doesn't matter," Brent said. "That's over. It was fun while it lasted, but you know I'm looking for something permanent."
"What, Marina's not interested in something permanent?"
"She's not marriage material," Brent said flatly.
"What does that mean, not marriage material?"
"You know what I mean."
"No, I really don't. Is she too shallow for you, is that it? A little on the vacuous side?"
Brent snapped, "You're just saying that because she's a model and she's gorgeous. The typical narrow-minded attitude. It just so happens she's got a lot up here." He tapped his head. "There are depths to Marina you couldn't begin to imagine. She's sensitive and freethinking and— Did you know she's going for a career in holistic medicine? She knows her modeling days are numbered—she's planning ahead."
"Really."
"That's right." Brent's brisk nod said, So there.
Hunter couldn't recall the last time his brother had been so passionately defensive about anything. "Bear with me, I'm kinda slow," he said. "This gorgeous, smart, sensitive, farsighted woman isn't marriage material. Why?"
Brent gave him a pointed look. "Would you marry a girl who let you into her pants on the first date?"
Hunter was dumbfounded. "If I loved her? Why not?"
"How do I know how many other guys came before me? Marina's been around."
"Unlike you, who've lived the life of a monk, saving yourself for your wedding night—"
"You know what? If you don't know what I'm talking about, there's no use having this discussion."
"You're talking about holding Marina to a double standard."
An unpleasant bark of laughter erupted from Brent. He spread his hands, glancing around the cluttered living room. "Hey, Bro, I don't see any women around here to impress with that politically correct crap, so why don't you give it a rest."
Hunter avoided Brent's eyes as he said, "So Raven's this paragon of virtue and innocence, is that it?"
"Hey, I know she's no thirty-year-old virgin. I'm not delusional. But I also know she doesn't jump in the sack with every Tom, Dick and Harry. I don't have to worry about who she's screwing behind my back, that's for damn sure."
Suddenly Hunter was back in that gray Mazda in the parking lot behind Stitches, with the fogged windows and the drumming rain and Raven's hoarse cries as he ejaculated deep inside her.
I don't have to worry about who she's screwing behind my back.
Hunter's guilt was an anvil, crushing his chest, stealing his air. Through sheer force of will he made himself focus on the discussion. "Is that what this is about?" he asked. "Was Marina sleeping with other guys while she was seeing you?"
"Hell no!"
Hunter wanted to say, Then what does it matter how many came before you if she's all yours now? But he knew there were plenty of men, Brent included, who couldn't ignore the primitive male instinct that said it mattered a lot. Hunter asked, "How did she react when you called it quits?"
He saw it in his eyes even before Brent said, "I haven't, yet. Soon. I don't want to do it over the phone."
"Does she know about Raven?"
"Nah. Why invite trouble?"
"So as far as Marina knows," Hunter said, "she's the only woman in your life. Is she serious about you?"
Brent looked at his watch. "Listen, I'd love to hang out here and discuss my sex life—"
"Did you know Mom and Dad did it on their first date?"
Brent gaped at him. "Shut your lying—"
"Dad let that one slip a couple of months ago when we were tossing back a few at O'Leary's. He said the two of them were like rabbits."
"You're so full of it." Angry color suffused Brent's face. "Mom would never have done that!"
"Oh, I forgot. She was a virgin bride and has forced herself to have intercourse precisely three times, purely for the purpose of procreation."
Brent scowled. "What're you trying to do, talk me out of marrying Raven?"
Was he? Hunter thrust his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Look. I can tell you have strong feelings for Marina. I just don't want you to make a decision you'll regret later."
"Well, don't worry about me, Bro." There was a hard, determined look in Brent's eyes. "I've thought this through, examined it from all angles. Raven's the logical choice."
Since when did logic have anything to do with love?
At the door, Brent turned back, and at that moment Hunter saw not the swaggering, self-confident role model of his youth, but a guy just like him—fallible, prey to self-doubt, struggling to make the right choices.
"I need your support in this," Brent said quietly, looking him in the eye. "I need your blessing, Hunter."
Searing emotion surged within Hunter, closing his throat, stealing his voice. He reached his brother in two long strides and wrapped his arms around him. Brent hugged him back with rib-cracking force, the bond that connected them too strong for words.
"You've got it." Hunter's voice was a hoarse whisper. Forgive me, he silently pleaded. Please forgive me, Brent. "You've got my blessing."
* * *
Chapter 15
«^»
Savory aromas greeted Raven as Brent welcomed her into his house. The lights were dim; a romantic Tony Bennett CD played softly in the background—Brent knew she liked Tony Bennett. Glancing toward the dining area, she saw that the table had been set for two, complete with a cluster of round, iridescent blue-green candles floating on water in a shallow bowl of the same color.
It would seem Hunter hadn't yet told Brent about what had happened Wednesday night in her car behind Stitches.
Raven sighed. "Brent, I told you, no dinner."
"It's white lasagna," he said, taking her coat and hanging it in his front closet. "Northern Italian style. I don't think you've ever had my white lasagna. Ham, three kinds of cheese, an incredibly rich cream sauce—guaranteed to raise your cholesterol count twenty points."
He was unaccountably chipper, considering that she'd made no secret of her intention to end their relationship. Was this some kind of last-ditch effort to change her mind?
Returning to her, Brent planted a light kiss on her mouth. He smelled good, his usual clean scent overlaid with a hint of woodsy aftershave. His smooth jaw told her he'd shaved off his five-o'clock shadow for her. The ribbed, white cotton sweater he wore displayed his wide shoulders to advantage.
Raven found herself impressed anew by this man's sheer masculine appeal, which she had to admit went beyond the physical. She could see why her matchmaking pals had considered him a catch. If it weren't for his womanizing, she might have agreed.
And if it weren't for Hunter, would she have given Brent a chance in spite of the womanizing?
No. What she'd told Grandma Rossi was the truth—she wouldn't marry a man she couldn't trust.
"Brent, I wish you hadn't done all this," she said, as he steered her toward the brick-red sofa. "I came here to clear the air—I'm not staying long."
"Why should we go hungry? You know I love to cook for you."
For me and how many others? she thought, recalling that copy of Vegetarian Times she'd spied in his magazine rack, and wondering if he'd begun adding non-meat dishes to his culinary repertoire.
He'd placed an assortment of Mediterranean spreads with pita triangles on the coffee table, along with two cut-crystal glasses of red wine. He handed her a wineglass. She set it back on the table.
"Brent, you can't just gloss over this whole thing. A romantic dinner isn't going to make everything right"
He sipped from his glass and set it next to hers. Taking both her hands in his, he said, "Honey, I'm not trying to gloss over anything. I'm just trying to show you how much you mean to me. I took you for granted—that's the truth and there's no way to soft-pedal it." He gazed at her with warm sincerity, squeezing her hands. "I can tell you that it will never happen again. That's a promise. I never had anyone like you in my life before, Raven. I guess it just took this close scrape to really make me appreciate you."
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