He’s quiet for a long time, then says, “You get to choose who you want to be, Daisy. That’s all that matters.”
I believe him. Or at least, I want to.
He starts the car, heaters blasting, and we drive through the city in silence.
As we cross the bridge over the river, I look out at the lights and the snow and wonder which one is really me.
The girl in the memory, chasing water and laughter.
Or the one here now, in the dark, beside a man who both terrifies and thrills me.
I have no idea.
But I want to find out.
The minute we get home,I feel the tension snap like an elastic. I drop the shopping bags in the foyer, collapse onto the couch, and let myself flop boneless for the first time in hours. Hunter sets the wine on the counter and starts looking through the fridge, humming under his breath. The city is dark and cold beyond the glass, but the penthouse is all warm light, gold and blue, so rich it feels like a spa for your brain.
I pull one bag over, start peeling back tissue paper, and take out the dresses, one by one, letting the fabric run through my fingers. I press a sleeve of silk to my cheek; it’s soft as theinside of a rose. The red one is even better than I remembered—obscene in all the right places, screaming look at me. The black mesh bralette from La Coquette is so transparent I can see the faint pink of my palm through it.
“Want to do a fashion show for me?” Hunter calls, voice growly and commanding.
I look up. “Only if you promise not to buy out the store next time.”
He laughs. “Can’t make that promise. You look too good.”
He brings the wine and sits next to me, thigh to thigh. He pours for both of us, then clinks glasses. “To new beginnings,” he rasps. I don’t have the heart to tell him that at this point, I’m not sure where the beginning is, much less the end, but I nod anyway and take a sip.
The wine tastes expensive and buttery and a little bit like magic.
I put the glass down, and without really thinking, pull the black mesh bralette out and dangle it temptingly before Hunter.
His eyes flash. His hand finds my thigh, squeezes.
“You want me to undress for you?” I purr.
His voice is low, and I feel it in my bones. “Yeah.”
I stand, let my clothes drop to the floor. I’m naked except for the new boots, which makes me feel a little bit like a sexy Bond girl. I step into the red dress, the one with the slit up the side, and slide the straps over my shoulders.
“Fuck,” Hunter murmurs, just watching.
I pirouette, then hike the dress up, showing my bare ass.
He’s on his feet before I finish the turn, and his hands are on my waist, pulling me close.
He kisses me, slow at first, but then it turns hungry. He bites my lower lip, hard enough to sting, then kisses the place where he bit me.
“You want to do this here, or in the bedroom?” he asks, voice like velvet.
“Bedroom,” I say, even though I’d let him take me anywhere.
He scoops me up, dress and all, and carries me down the hall.
His bedroom isa river of lights. The city shimmers all around us, but I don’t see. Hunter lays me on the bed and peels the dress off, inch by inch, kissing every place he exposes.
He spends an eternity on my breasts, kissing and biting, sucking my nipples until I’m moaning, back arching off the sheets. He’s relentless, alternating gentle licks with sharp bites, his hands kneading me like dough.
My hands find his head, fingers in his hair, holding him to me.
