“I’m a worrywart. It’s in my DNA.” All because I’m a mom, but she doesn’t need to know that just yet. Maybe after tonight, I’ll tell her.
I peer over at her, seeing the way her head bobs to the beat as she loses herself in the music. So young and carefree, living in the moment. A complete contrast to what I am. Just seeing her like this, knowing this is who she is—I can’t do that to her. I can’t take away her happiness with the knowledge a child will be joining us come January.
It makes me feel like a mega-bitch, knowing I’ll be the sole reason for ruining her college experience. No childless young woman wants a child hindering her college experience. While I love Maverick and wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world, I can’t expose Jenna to him and expect her to be okay with it.
She looks back at me and smiles big. “Why the long face?”
No. I can’t tell her. Jenna is the only reason I’ve even made it this long here. I can come back to the apartment after classes, and if it’s a particularly rough day, I know she’s there to listen to my woes. If I tell her about Maverick and she ditches me? Lord, I won’t know what to do.
Forcing a smile, I reply, “Nothing.”
“Having fun?”
I don’t want to lie, but I feel like I have to. “Yeah!” I point toward the kitchen, unfortunately where Hunter and Easton are. “I’m going to go get a drink, okay?”
She nods, then easily disappears between the gyrating bodies on the dancefloor. Smiling to myself, I weave my way through the crowd as “Elastic Heart” by Sia plays over the surround system. People get lost to the beat, but I’m a prisoner to its words. They resonate within me so deeply, almost painfully so.
Hunter didn’t break me. He may have bent and mangled my appearance, but in doing so, I grew a thick skin and rose above what he tried to accomplish. I had to—someone needed to be there for our son.
He has no idea the things I’ve had to give up over the years. This party? It’s the first party I’ve been to since before I found out I was pregnant. I’d say Hunter goes to these things all the time.
Then again, I can’t really blame him for his absence in Maverick's life. Not really, anyway. He may be a bastard, but if I had left my anger out of the equation, I have no doubt that Hunter would have been there.
My life, on the other hand? Yes. The absence is his fault, and his entirely. So, based on his treatment of me, that’s what made my decision. I could have told Hunter we were having a baby, but why? Why would I do something for Hunter when he’s the reason for all my pain? If he could toss me to the side so thoughtlessly, then he could do that to our son. I’d rather die a thousand deaths than for Maverick to be subjected to the same cruelty as I was.
The need for a drink continues to rise, forcing me to quicken my pace through the drunken bastards dancing on the floor. A nice shot or even just a few wine coolers, and I’ll be good. Not too much liquid courage, but enough to numb my senses.
Thanks to all my efforts of keeping Maverick safe and protected, I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol since Halloween sophomore year. So, my tolerance is shamefully inadequate when paired to the others partying in this house.
Pushing through the last wave of people, someone stumbles into me from behind. I trip over some guy’s shoes and nearly fall to the floor. The only thing that stops my descent is a strong hand landing on my elbow, gripping it tightly and pulling me to a stop.
My other hand lands on their forearm as I right myself, hurriedly saying, “Thanks.”
His deep, raspy voice hits me full blast. “Still a klutz, I see.”
Horror encompasses me as I hurriedly jerk my arm out of his. My eyes land on a remarkably familiar chest, causing my traitorous heart to skip a beat. Blood rushes to the surface of my skin in embarrassment, and it takes every bit of strength I have within my body to peer up into the mismatched eyes that claimed my heart a long time ago.
Ice blue and chestnut brown. Eyes that still haunt my nightmares and star in my wet dreams.
His words finally register to me, though. And like an ice bath, it cools my insides. “Still a dick?”
He smirks. “Only the best.” And then he winks for good measure.
My gaze lands on the whiskey bottle in his hand, half drained of its contents. Meeting his eyes once more, I cock a brow in question. His gaze sweeps from me to the bottle, and then back to me once more. Without a word, he brings the tip of the bottle to his lips and gulps it like its water.
“Trying to bury your sorrows?”
Intensity burns through his eyes as he watches me over the rim, never saying a word. Gulping back my nerves, I push away from him and walk over toward the coolers. Searching through one, I find nothing but Budweiser—Hunter’s favorite. I smile at the thought that maybe some things don’t change.
Opening the next, I find what I’m looking for. Seagram Wild Berry wine coolers. My favorite. I straighten to my full height, then hesitantly peer in Hunter’s direction, finding him wiping his mouth with the back of the hand that’s holding the whiskey bottle. Still, he doesn’t say a word.
I look from my cooler to him, and then back again, trying to piece it together. Not many people at these things like Seagram. It’s a cheap brand, and once the drink gets warm, it’s no good. Many of the partygoers here are either straight liquor drinkers, or they drink beer.
From what I saw inside the cooler, there was only one six-pack of Wild Berry.
“You’re overthinking it,” Hunter murmurs in a growl.
My eyes flick to his, marveling how different yet the same he feels to me. “Am I?”
He licks his lips, and I can’t help when my eyes drop down to their plump surface. They’re wet, slick, and I have the weirdest temptation to see what they taste like. I wonder if they taste like they did in high school? Or if, along with becoming a man, his taste has changed?
“Drink the goddamn cooler,” he grumbles before pushing off the kitchen island.
Just when I think he’s about to meander through the crowd to find Cassandra, he surprises me and stops beside me where there’s barely an inch separating our bodies. His size is large and imposing, but nothing I can’t handle. I’ve known this boy since we were in diapers.
He may exude hatred and anger like they’re a part of him, but I know the truth. He’s hurt by something. And the fact that’s probably the truth, and he’s hiding it behind this façade, kills me that I’ll never fully understand why.
His hand lays flat on the bar as his upper body drifts closer, his shirt barely skimming against my bicep. I swallow hard, trying not to react to his proximity. But it’s useless.
Because with as well as I know him, he knows me better.
“I told you what I wanted, didn’t I?” he says, and the only thing I can do is nod since my throat is frozen. “This can go one of two ways.”
I’m afraid to say anything, not knowing where his head is right now. The smell of whiskey wafts off him like it’s his personal brand of cologne. He may not be trashed, but he’s pretty close to it if he’s standing this close to me and not putting me down.
“One?” He runs his pointer finger along my arm, causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “You can disappear and go back to wherever you came from …”
“W-What’s two?” I hate myself for asking, but I couldn’t keep quiet, no matter how bad I wanted to.
His heated breath wisps across my neck and cheek, stirring my hair. My body hums from his closeness as if soaking it all in for fear she’ll never get anything as wonderful as this again.
“Come on now,” his teeth nip my earlobe, and the action causes me to suck in a sharp breath and hold it. “We both know you’re not stupid, little con.”
I nearly melt when his entire body presses up against my side. It’s hard to remember I hate him with him being this close to me.
Our bodies are our biggest weakness.
I lick my lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tens
ion around the kitchen escalates. I can feel multiple sets of eyes on us. Any other time, I would care, but at the moment, I can’t bring myself to go down that road. Hunter knows what his closeness does to me, even though it’s been years since we’ve been this close. His body, his attention, his everything is a weakness to me. I can’t help but succumb to it.
My eyes flutter closed as I get lost in the feel of his body, remembering all the times he made me feel good. How he’s the only person who knows me—the real me.
I gave him my innocence, my life, and my future. And when he sent me away, I never got any of those back. It’s taken me until now to finally realize that. I can be pissed at Hunter all I want to, but deep down, within the very heart and soul of my being, he’s the only man I’ll ever be able to love in that way.
There will be other guys, no doubt. But none who will make me feel as if the entire world is laid out for me, so I can bend it to my will. Hunter gave me everything. It made me feel everything.
With just the mere meeting of eyes, desire, love, and happiness completely enveloped me within their warm embrace. But, within that same embrace, I’ve encountered pain and regret and sadness.
His leg nudges my knee with his. “Get down on your knees, baby.”
Goddammit. The way he oozes sex appeal should be considered criminal. But what he says finally manages to breach the haze of arousal swirling inside me.
Blinking rapidly, I peer around the kitchen and see girls and guys openly staring at Hunter and me. They’re not even bothering to hide what they’re doing, which is the first hint that what he and I are doing is wrong.
Of course, he makes me feel things. He always will. But—and as much as it pains me to say this—he no longer has the right to demand anything.
But maybe, I … “Tell me why you did what you did, and I’ll gladly kneel for you.”
My eyes meet his. For barely a second, I can see the surprise lighting his gaze, but just as quickly as it washed over him, it’s gone. Within seconds, his strong, calloused fingers close around my wrist, and in front of God and all the people he created, he takes me off guard and starts dragging me down the hallway. I can barely keep up with his thunderous pace.
“What the hell are you doing?”
A grunt is all I get in return. We pass by several sets of doors before he comes to the last one on the right. Flinging open the door, he jerks me toward him and then shoves me inside. I stumble over my own two feet before righting myself and twirling on him.
At first, I expect him to shove me in here and leave. That’s what the asshole he is today would do. However, all he does is stand there, only allowing me to see his large, looming silhouette within the doorway. The light peeps in from behind, encasing him in its rays.
Then, my breath stalls in my chest as he takes one step, then two, and slowly closes the door behind him with a click, flicking the lock in place.
Darkness cloaks us both. Not even the window allows the moon’s rays to shine through the blinds. It’s terrifying, being in a room like this with Hunter. But, oddly enough, it’s invigorating as well.
“What are you going to do now, huh?” I ask, attempting not to trip over stuff as my hands feel around for a wall or something.
He’s silent, except for his labored breathing. I’m being as quiet as I can, so nothing slips by me.
I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Each swell that comes over me feels like a blade slicing into my skin, begging me to my inner being to bleed in penance.
But for what? Why? After all this time, why is he still angry at something he did?
“Tell me the truth.” His monotone voice drifts through the air like the kiss of death.
After searching, my hand finally bumps into the wall. “Truth? What truth?” I creep up to the wall and lean my back against the unforgiving surface, ready for anything.
A beat of silence, and then another. My heart thuds loudly in my ears as I wait for Hunter to say something else. But he never does. The silence continues to stretch around both of us, teaming with emotions too difficult to decipher.
Suddenly, I feel his wrath and burning heat seconds before he takes me off guard, his heavy body flattening me against the wall. His hands plant themselves right next to my head, caging me in. Anger manifests in the air between us, thickening to the point I can barely inhale without choking on it.
“I want to know the truth about that night,” he spews his hatred all over. “The night you decided to rip my goddamn world apart like what we had meant nothing!”
“Rip your—” I pause, confused. “You’re the one who ruined us, not me.”
“Stop lying!” he roars, punching the wall right next to my head. “Just … stop.”
His hand wraps around my slender throat. He doesn’t do it enough to hurt or maim, as much as it is a warning he’s about to lose it if I don’t answer his questions.
Only, I can’t answer his questions when I don’t even know what he’s talking about.
I shake my head. At least, much as I can from beneath the grip on my throat. “I’m not. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His weight forces me farther into the wall. I can barely breathe, but for the life of me, I’m not saying shit about that right now. Self-preservation is starting to kick in because it’s clear Hunter is lost in time. I don’t know where he’s at, but it’s clear we’re not thinking of the same thing.
His face moves closer to mine, so much so, I feel his lips ghost across my lips. A tremor skates up my spine, ending with my head feeling as light as a feather. “You betrayed me. Took everything I gave you for granted.”
I did what? My eyes round in the darkness and grow larger when his lips press just the tiniest bit harder into mine. That same pesky, familiar feeling starts blooming in my lower stomach—a ball of need and anger and resentment.
Balling my hands into fists by my sides, I fight against it. I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything as I wait for this feeling to pass. Having Hunter this close is wreaking havoc on my psyche.
He’s warm, familiar, and my body wants more of him even while my heart and head know I shouldn’t.
Hunter presses his lips harder into mine, pecking a kiss. “Tell me.” He does it again as if it is a compulsion, and he can’t help himself. This time when he speaks, his voice breaks with emotion, “Please.”
My breathing ceases when both hands cup my cheeks. Fear and exhilaration fight hand in hand to see which will become the victor. Nothing else exists for me. Not the loud laughter and music that rages on the other side of his door. Not the thought of what tomorrow will look like.
Nothing matters, except for the way his hands cradle my face so softly, like he’s worshiping my silky skin with his course, calloused fingers. His lips brush across mine. Once. Twice. My lungs burn from holding my breath.
I never imagined Hunter’s lips would ever be on mine again. Or that he would be within touching distance of me.
With everything inside me, I should hate him. Hate the way he’s treated me, and the way he cast me to the side as if I meant nothing to him. But right now, an integral part of me knows, without a doubt—Hunter is the reason for every breath I breathe, every tear I shed, every grin, every prayer.
He gave me a reason to exist. And until now, I didn’t really get that. I was so focused on my anger and resentment toward him that I never even thought about thanking him for what he did give me.
He gave me a future, all right. Just not the future either of us planned.
Tears slide down my cheeks at the realization, and before I can stop myself, I softly rasp out, “You gave me everything. Thank you.”
He groans deep in his throat as his lips slam into mine. He possesses me, owns me, and turns me inside out with each swipe of his lips across mine. He probes my lips with his tongue, and I freely open for him, moaning into our kiss as I wrap my arms around the nape of his neck.
Tingles erupt through every cell of my body a
s his hands wander over my flesh. His tongue tangles with mine in a savagery that leaves me breathless, boneless, and melting into a puddle near his feet.
My fingers get lost in his hair as he grabs me to him tighter, and then using his strength, he picks me up in his arms. My legs wrap around his waist. I whimper into his mouth when I feel the evidence of his arousal grinding against my sensitive mound.
A private place only Hunter has ever been.
He carries me over to the bed, unceremoniously falling on top. Our bodies remember how natural being with the other feels. My legs spread, allowing him to settle between them, as we continue to lose ourselves in our kiss. We’re blindly groping, caressing, kissing, licking, nipping—every inch of unclothed skin doesn’t go unexplored.
“Hunter,” I gasp, licking my lips.
“Mmm.” His grunt and wandering hands cause that fire in my sex to burn fiercer. I’m wet for him. Shamefully so. “Feel good. Fuck.”
We’re lost in one another, so much so, neither of us hears the door opening, nor do we pay attention to the light flooding the room. It isn’t until a feminine squawk pierces our eardrums that we manage to come back to the present.
“Hunter, what are you doing?!”
Immediately, Hunter jumps away from me like he’s been burned. Through the fissure of light filtering in through the open door, I watch as his eyes go to the wall where we were and then back down to me. Our breathing is labored, harsh, and elevated from our almost tumble in the sheets.
I see the moment he pieces our actions together, along with the newcomer standing at the door. His glare pierces through my heart, as he stares at me like I’m his worst enemy. Running his hands through his hair, he mutters, “Fucking hell,” under his breath.
Cassandra saunters into the room in a fit of rage. A rage that seems solely pointed toward me. “You whore! How dare you? Hunter is with me, you homewrecking slut!”
Like a bucket of cold water being tipped over my head, all heat and desire splash out of my body. “What the hell?”
Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1) Page 13