He’s stroking me into Nirvana.
“Then stay forever,” he whispers in my ear. “At least it will give me enough time to make it up to you.”
I lean back and let my legs fall to his sides, straddling his waist, my palms on his chest now, and his hands come to hold my waist. His gaze is searching like he wants to look in my head to see what I’m feeling.
If only I knew myself.
“I know I’m being difficult. Tally and Mac always tell me that you guys are trying, and I can see that too. It’s just…” I trail off, my tone weak.
“You’re hurt, I know.I know, Sloan. And I’m sorry. I don’t want you to forgive me that easily because I haven’t earned it yet. You gave me your trust, and I broke it. Now, I have to earn it back, and I know it takes time. Your feelings are valid. All I’m asking you to do is give me a chance to make it right. Let me make it right. Let meearnit. Let me show up every day and show you how much you mean to me. How sorry I am. That’s all I’m asking.”
One of his hands leaves my waist and comes up to cup my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “The fact you accepted theheater and parts from me? That you called me when you were afraid? That I’m allowed to be here?” He pulls me down to kiss my cheek. “That I’m allowed to touch you? Hold you?”
My heart is warm, and the weight on my shoulders that was crushing me all day is getting lighter by the second. His soft tone, his deep voice, his warmth, his caresses.
Him.
He’s overwhelming me with his words and touches.
“It’s a fucking privilege, and I know it. I’m so thankful—” He’s still talking when I lean in and kiss him. Freezing against my lips, he pulls away slightly. “Shortcake, are you?—”
“Kiss me,” I interrupt, and I don’t have to tell him twice.
He grabs my face with his hands, bringing my lips back to his.
The kiss starts languidly but turns into something more passionate and consuming, as if the world outside the van has disappeared. At this moment, all that matters is the taste of his lips on mine, the softness of his touch, and the way he makes me feel.
Whole.
I can’t help but think that he’s still the best kisser I’ve ever known. No matter what has happened or the hurt I’m feeling, being with him feels safe, likecoming home.The storm outside and the sounds of thunder and rain fade into the background.
His hand strokes my waist, pulling me closer to him as if he can’t get enough.
I can’t either.
He groans into the kiss, and I respond with a soft hum. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I can feel his heart racing just as fast. But when I’m about to let my hand wander under his shirt, he stops me gently, bringing my hand up to his chest again. He breaks the kiss and maneuvers me to his side, still holding me close, stroking my cheek once more.
“I haven’t earned this yet, Sloan,” he whispers, his voice filled with longing.
Fuck.
I would have let him fuck me just now.
What was I even thinking?
I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling.
Feeling home.
“I’m sorry,” I agree, my voice hoarse. The desire in Hunter’s eyes is replaced by understanding as he kisses the top of my head and cradles me against his chest.
“I’m gonna earn it. Promise.”
TWENTY-SIX
As I walk upto Shannon’s, I pull my hair into a hasty ponytail. I’m a little late again, but this time, I just dawdled, not in the mood to go to work on a busy Saturday. Standing in front of the doors, I notice a big flyer hanging there, announcing a poetry slam happening tonight.
My brows furrow in confusion.
