by Sam Mariano
Since he has forcibly bulldozed the barrier I had up, I tell him, “I am yours completely.”
His lips tug up, but he doesn’t look entirely satisfied.
Maybe his lack of satisfaction is rooted in knowing that our relationship has an expiration date. How can he believe I’m completely his when he knows there’s a chance I’ll leave him as soon as I’m allowed to?
I know he’s hoping that by the time that day comes, my doubts will have passed. I hope for that, too, I’m just not as sure as he is that we’ll get there.
Since we’re near enough to this subject, I risk raising it even though I know it could go badly. “Can I ask you something?”
He looks down at me. “Of course.”
“I need you to be completely truthful, no matter what you think I want to hear.”
His brow furrows a bit, but he nods his agreement.
“Do you have any lingering feelings for Valerie? I don’t just mean romantic feelings. I mean any fondness whatsoever.”
“No,” he says, without hesitation.
“Did your Gatsby paper have anything to do with her?”
His frown deepens. His confusion does more to ease my mind than anything—he doesn’t have a single clue what I’m talking about. “My Gatsby paper?”
“You said you’re her Daisy, and you made such a passionate argument about Gatsby pulling his head out of his ass and finding someone else to love. I know it’s… maybe a little mean, but honestly, after the way she has treated me, I don’t care. If you’re going to be mine, I have to know… Do you think about her happiness? Do you want her to move on from you so she’ll leave you alone, or because you want better for her than unrequited interest in you?”
Hunter stares at me so hard for so long, my nerves begin to strangle me. I almost wish I hadn’t asked this question. For all that Hunter can be a jerk sometimes, he can also be deeply caring. If he cares about Valerie even a little bit… that’s too much for me.
“Riley… let me explain something to you.”
My heart thuds with dread. Is he really going to drag this out? I’m dying here. I just want him to answer my question so I know one way or the other.
He lifts my hand and settles it in his, then he locks our fingers together and looks into my eyes. “Imagine Valerie Johnson is on fire. Literally being consumed by flames. She’s screaming in torment, her cries for help hurt your ears. You’re standing right next to her in perfect health, but feeling mildly thirsty. I happen to be in possession of the only glass of water in the world.” He gives me a look as if to say, are you following me? “I walk right past her to give you the water, because I care more about quenching your thirst than saving her life.”
My eyes widen in horrified delight.
He lifts my hand and kisses it, still holding my gaze. “I don’t give a single fuck about Valerie Johnson. I only care about you.”
That might be the most twisted thing that has ever turned a person on, but my heart fills to bursting, and all I want to do is get as close to him as humanly possible.
Hunter looks mildly surprised as I mount him, leaning in to kiss him and reaching down to rub his dick.
“Whoa,” he murmurs against my lips, but his surprise doesn’t inhibit his enthusiasm. He locks a muscular arm around me, grabbing my hips and positioning me where he wants me. Amusement lightens his tone as he asks, “I take it that was the right answer?”
Eyes closed, I sigh against his mouth. “Above and beyond the right answer. Get your cock inside me now, please.”
“Well, since you said please,” he teases against my lips, reaching down to guide himself between my thighs.
Sighing with pleasure as he sinks inside me, I lock my arms around his strong shoulders like I’ll never let go.
And maybe, just maybe…
I never will.
Chapter Sixty Two
Riley
Standing beside me in the juice aisle at the grocery store, Mom eyes me suspiciously. “Why are you buying cranberry juice?”
I grab a big container of it off the shelf and put it in our shopping cart. “If I say it’s because I wanna try a vodka cranberry, will you believe me?”
“I would prefer to believe that than the alternative.” She looks over at me, cocking an eyebrow. “You know the last time I bought cranberry juice?”
“I remember. You had just started dating Ray. So if you’re about to say something dirty…”
Mom sighs, wrinkling up her nose. “You’re trying to ward off a UTI. You and Hunter must have had some Friday night.”
“Yes, we had lots and lots of sex. There. Are you happy?” I shake my head, stopping to grab a case full of bottled waters. “Why can’t you be normal?” I ask as I lug the water over and shove it under the cart.
Mom beams at me. “You love me just the way I am.”
I stand and look at her. “You’re right, I do.” Wanting to redirect away from the subject of my sex life, I ask, “What’s next on the grocery list?”
Mom scans it. “I think we got everything.” She looks up at me. “You know, I realize this isn’t super romantic to think about, but even though you are on birth control now, it would probably be a good idea to make him use condoms. Assuming he didn’t live like a monk while he was away… he could still give you something.”
“He’s clean,” I assure her
“And what if the birth control failed? If you take antibiotics, that can throw everything off. No form of birth control is perfect except abstinence, and the cranberry juice in the cart tells me that’s not likely.”
“The cranberry juice is correct.”
“If you want, we can run over to the family planning aisle and grab a pack while we’re here. My treat,” she offers.
I shake my head. “Thank you, but no. Hunter hates condoms.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, most men do. You know what they hate more? Accidentally knocking up their girlfriends.”
I remain firm. “I’m on birth control. I’m not taking any antibiotics. We don’t need condoms.” Looking back over my shoulder, I tell her, “I do need to do a little more shopping, though. After we take this stuff home, do you want to go with me to pick out a dress?”
“Ooh, what kind of dress?”
“I need a pretty blue ballgown.”
“It has to be blue?”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be, but Hunter requested blue. It’s his favorite color, he really likes me in it. And it has to be a really nice gown, nothing cheap-looking. I have Hunter’s credit card, so price doesn’t matter. Maybe we could go to Nordstrom?” I suggest.
“Why do you need a ballgown? Oh, for winter formal?” she realizes.
“Not exactly.”
As we walk toward the checkout, I explain that Hunter’s dad is throwing a ball in New York close to Christmas, and Hunter really wants me to go so that I can meet him.
Mom stares at me hard. “He wants to take you to a ball?”
I nod.
“Like you’re Cinderella?”
“I believe there will be fewer pumpkin carriages and hopefully no evil stepmothers, but otherwise, yes.”
Mom sighs heavily. “Does this kid not understand you’re still in high school? He can take you to winter formal, but he’s not supposed to whisk you off to New York for a royal ball. That’s… I wasn’t prepared for that.”
I crack a smile. “I wasn’t either, but life is different for him. We’ll only be gone for the weekend,” I assure her.
She pouts a little. “Only the weekend, she says. This ‘you growing up’ thing is terrible. I want you to stay with me forever. You won’t miss Christmas if you go, right?”
“No, we’ll definitely be home for Christmas. And, actually, speaking of Christmas, I want to make sure we include Hunter in all our festivities this year. He doesn’t think his mom will be back for it. I guess she’s totally wrapped up in this guy she’s seeing, and I don’t want him to feel like he’s alone for Christmas.”
/>
Mom’s expression shifts with distaste. “Ugh, that woman.”
“I know,” I murmur in agreement. “She’ll never be my favorite person, either. Hunter still loves her, of course, but I actually think his time in Italy gave him a lot more perspective than he had when he left.”
“Not being 14 also helps with that,” Mom puts in lightly. “I get what you’re saying, though, he seems like a sharp kid.”
“He is. He’s a fast learner—almost too quick. I’ve thrown him a lot of curveballs this year, he’s found a way around every one of them.”
Mom smiles faintly. “Whatever else I’ll say about Hunter, he’s certainly devoted.”
“He’s like an indestructible heat-seeking missile. Once he locks onto his target, he’ll blow through whatever he has to in order to get to it.”
“Things are going well between you, though?” she questions. “You’re happy?”
I look back at her with a smile as I help guide the cart into the checkout lane. “Oh yeah, things are great. We’re both really happy.”
Mom smiles. “Good.”
___
Even though it’s Sunday and that’s supposed to be Mom’s day—she has taken a page from Hunter’s playbook and demanded one day a week when she knows I’ll be available to her—I drive over to Hunter’s house after shopping to show him the gown I picked out.
He’s coming over for family dinner tonight, anyway. We’re cooking, so I told Mom I’d go pick him up and show him the dress while I’m at it so he knows what it looks like when he’s planning his own outfit for the ball.
The dress I bought is absolutely gorgeous. It’s a blue off-the-shoulder ballgown fashioned out of this beautiful, shimmery satin. I love the way the fabric sways when I walk. To make it sway even more dramatically, I sashay into Hunter’s bedroom once I’ve changed into it.
The fabric feels great against my skin, but what feels better is the way Hunter’s face lights up at the sight of me. The slow smile on his beautiful lips, the affectionate gleam in his gorgeous eyes.
“Wow,” he says.
I can’t help grinning. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” He sits forward and reaches for me.
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I step forward so he can grab my hips and pull me closer to his perch on the edge of the bed.
“Damn,” he says, shaking his head. His gaze travels the length of the gown, taking in my bare shoulders. One hand drops from my hips so he can run it down the soft fabric against my left leg, and when he does, he finds the sexy split that leaves my leg exposed all the way to the middle of my thigh.
“It’s not too high, is it?” I ask.
“No.” He slides his hand beneath the fabric and squeezes my thigh. He looks up at me, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “This is going to make it very hard for me to behave myself while we’re at the gala. You realize that, right?”
Smiling down at him, I reach out and caress his jawline. “It’s good for you to experience hardship every now and again. It builds character.”
Hunter wraps his arms around my hips, dragging me close and lightly squeezing me. “I’ll show you ‘builds character.’”
“Don’t you dare pull me onto this bed, Hunter Maxwell,” I say, since I know that’s coming next. “If you wrinkle my dress, I’ll be so mad at you.”
Growling in faint annoyance at having to wait to play with me, he grabs my hips and spins me around. “I guess I’d better take it off you then, huh?”
I move my hair aside so he has better access to the zipper. “You like it, though? It’s good enough for the function? I’ve never shopped for anything like this, so I wasn’t sure.”
“It’s perfect,” he assures me. “You look like a princess.”
I beam and glance back at him. “That’s what I was going for. Mom, too. She was trying to convince me to buy a tiara because she’s a crazy person.”
Hunter smirks, his gaze on my back as he drags down the zipper and exposes more and more of my bare skin. “She’s gonna love your wedding look then,” he remarks.
My eyes widen slightly and I look back at him. “What?”
My dress is open now, so he lets it go. I let the fabric drop gently and step out of it, careful not to wrinkle it too much as I do.
Hunter leans back with his palms braced on the mattress. I feel his appreciative gaze rake over me now that I’m standing here in only my panties. “My family has a collection of jewels.”
I nod. Given what I know about his family, that’s not surprising.
But then he goes on, “There are a couple of diadems that brides typically wear on their wedding day.”
I freeze on my way to hang up the dress. “Diadems?”
“Crowns.”
“I know what a diadem is.” I blink. “Your family has crowns.”
Amusement tugs at his lips. “Yes. When we get married, you’ll wear one to keep with tradition. There are a couple you can choose from. I think I have pictures, actually,” he adds, shifting so he can pull his phone out of his pocket.
I’m not sure about this wedding business, or this crown business, but I am intrigued. “Italy pictures?”
Hunter nods. “Wanna see?”
I sure do. I hastily hang up my dress in his walk-in closet since it’ll be safer there than stashed in my much smaller one, then I hurry back out and climb into bed with him.
I’m excited to actually see pictures of his time in Italy. I saw the ones on his Instagram and Hunter has told me stories about his time there, but he hasn’t shown me his personal photos before.
Now he lies in his bed scrolling through his camera roll, one arm bent with his hand behind his head. I snuggle up close and rest my head on his bicep, so he moves his hand and wraps it around me instead to keep me close.
“What’s that?” I ask.
He stops scrolling. “What?”
I reach over and tap a picture. It’s a pretty brunette with big sunglasses lying on a pool float, sipping a beverage and making a face at him. The face she makes is the goofy kind you’d only make with someone you were super comfortable with.
My heart contracts, my stomach dropping. I knew Hunter had physical experiences with girls when he lived in Italy, but I never thought he’d forged any kind of close connection with any of them. Certainly not the affectionate familiarity I pick up on in this shot.
And he kept it.
Sure, it has probably been a while since he scrolled through these pictures, but the thought that he wanted to keep that memory of some other girl… it makes my heart ache.
I swallow, tempted to pull away from him.
Before I can, he says, “That’s Vittoria.”
Vittoria. Even her name is lovely. “She’s very pretty,” I murmur.
Hunter glances over at me. His face is etched with light amusement, but I don’t find it very funny. “She is,” he agrees.
My face reacts before I can stop it. Shooting him a dirty look, my tone much less pleasant, I ask, “Was she one of your model friends?”
Hunter smirks, his eyes glinting with mirth as he pulls me closer. “She’s my sister,” he informs me.
Oh.
He shakes his head at me, but now that the jealousy has gone out of me, I snuggle close again.
“I did know a model named Vittoria,” he teases.
“I don’t want to hear about it,” I inform him.
“Hazel eyes. Plump lips.”
“I’m never going to fuck you again if you keep talking.”
Dragging his thumb across my bottom lip, he adds, “Nothing compared to yours, of course.”
“I hope you enjoyed them,” I tell him sweetly. “They’ll never be wrapped around your cock again.”
Hunter smirks, giving me a little squeeze. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“It’s not funny,” I tell him, shooting him a look. “Do you have pictures of other girls in your phone? We’re gonna fight if you do, I’m warning you n
ow.”
Hunter grins, leaning over to give me a kiss. “I don’t,” he assures me.
I kiss him back, but then I pout at him. “You’re mean.”
He pulls me against him. “Riley, baby, it’s crazy for you to be jealous. I’ve never cared about anyone but you. Never even been tempted to. I’m single-minded when it comes to you. Other women have nothing that interests me. In my eyes, no one can hold a candle to you. It’s a waste of their time to even try.”
I’m slightly mollified, but I still shoot him a look. “That’s all fine and great, but if you ever taunt me with the plump lips of your past lovers again, I’ll go have a photo shoot of my own with Sherlock.”
“No the fuck you will not,” he says, his amusement dissipating.
I raise my eyebrows. “Watch me. In various states of undress. It’s modeling, baby,” I say sweetly. “You can’t be mad.”
“I’ll beat his fucking ass, then I’ll beat yours, too,” he says, dropping his phone and grabbing me, yanking me on top of him and grabbing handfuls of my ass.
“I am one hundred percent not fucking you right now,” I inform him.
Rolling me onto my back, he hovers over me. His eyes darken as he looks down at my bare breasts and reminds me, “You are one hundred percent doing whatever the fuck I tell you to. Remember our deal?”
“There should be an asshole clause,” I say, but I slide my arms around his neck anyway. “Whenever you’re an asshole, I get to say no.”
Hunter smirks, leaning down to kiss my breasts. “That would never work.”
“I’m building it into our next agreement,” I inform him.