I follow the sound of typing toward the back of the house, but it stops suddenly. The double doors to the library stand partially open, spilling golden light into the darkened hallway. I pause at the threshold, my blanket clutched around my shoulders.
Hunter sits on the leather couch, his laptop abandoned on the coffee table. He’s not typing anymore. He’s not doing anything at all—just staring straight ahead at the wall of books, his expression haunted. The bandage on his shoulder is visible beneath his thin t-shirt, a reminder of what he risked to find me.
Three empty coffee cups sit on the table. Maps and printouts are scattered across every surface. He hasn’t been sleeping while I’ve been recuperating.
I step into the room, my bare feet silent against the hardwood. He doesn’t notice me until I’m almost beside him.
His eyes snap to mine, instantly alert despite the exhaustion etched into his face and the dark circles around his eyes. The hard edges I’ve always associated with Hunter Reed seem worn down.
“You should be resting,” he says, his voice hoarse.
I ignore his comment and sit beside him on the couch, tucking my legs underneath me, keeping the blanket wrapped around my body like armor.
“What are you thinking?” I ask softly.
Hunter’s gaze drops to his hands. They’re clasped together so tightly his knuckles have turned white.
“That I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “That whatever happens next, I’m grateful I got to know you at all.”
The simple honesty in his words catches me off guard. This isn’t the calculating and dominant man who orchestrated his way into my life. This is a man laying himself bare, expecting nothing in return.
I study his profile in the soft lamplight, seeing for the first time how much this has cost him. Not just physically, but something deeper—as if the foundations of his entire existence have shifted.
I reach for Hunter’s hand. His eyes follow the movement, wary and uncertain—an expression I’ve never seen on him before. For a man who’s always been so sure of himself, so dominating and in control, this vulnerability is striking.
“Hunter,” I whisper, taking his large hand in mine. I place his palm against my chest, pressing it firmly over my heart. Even through the blanket, I can feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tremor in his fingers. “Feel that? It’s yours. It has been since we met on that cliff, even when I hated you. Maybe especially then.”
His eyes darken, shifting from uncertainty to hunger. The tension between us changes instantly, charging the air with electricity.
“Aurora,” he breathes, my name a prayer and a plea.
Hunter pulls me close, nearly crushing me against his chest. I let the blanket fall away as I melt into him. We hold each other in the darkness of the library, the rain still pattering against thewindows, creating a cocoon around us. The steady beat of his heart matches mine—quick, desperate.
My fingers thread through his hair as his mouth finds my neck. The anger that burned inside me for days hasn’t disappeared, but it’s transformed into something equally powerful. I’m starving for him, for this connection that defies all logic. My body remembers his touch even as my mind grapples with everything I’ve learned.
“I need you,” I whisper against his ear, feeling him shudder beneath my hands. “Even when I was so angry I couldn’t see straight, I needed you.”
His hands slip beneath my shirt, his touch soft and hungry at once. Every point of contact between us sparks with heat, with promise.
His mouth is hot against my skin, desperate. I push away from him suddenly, my palm flat against his chest. Our breathing fills the quiet room, heavy and uneven.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I say, my voice sharp and clear. “Don’t think for one second that this means everything’s okay between us.”
Hunter’s gray-blue eyes harden, then soften. “I know.”
“You let me believe a lie.” The words tear from my throat, raw and painful.
I straddle him in one fluid movement, pinning him against the couch. My hands grip his wrists, pressing them into the leather on either side of his head.
“I should hate you,” I whisper against his mouth, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. “Part of me still does.”
I grind against him, feeling his hardness between my legs. The thin fabric of my sleep shorts and his sweatpants does nothing to disguise how much he wants this—wants me.
“You’re going to let me take exactly what I need,” I state, releasing one of his wrists to tear at his shirt. “And you’re going to give me everything I ask for. Understand?”
“Anything,” he breathes, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll do anything to earn your trust back, Aurora. Anything you want.”
I grab his jaw roughly, forcing him to look at me as I roll my hips against his erection. “I want to feel you inside me while I remember exactly who you are—what you’ve done. I want to come on your cock while I’m still fucking furious with you.”
