I’mnotsurehowI ended up here. Howweended up here. One second Hunter was smiling at me, and the next he was touching my hair, and then my fingers were tangled in his shirt and in his hair, and my mouth was on his.
His lips part under mine, and a hungry groan echoes through the barn. It takes far too long to realize it was me who made that noise. Fuck, I haven’t done this in so long. I let my hand fall from Hunter’s shirt and press closer, closer, closer until my chest is flush with his.
His hand slides into my hair, thumb resting against my temple, as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me impossibly closer.
My stomach flips and my heart races at that. He’s not pushing me away. He’s pulling me closer, sinking his tongue past my lips, moaning against my mouth.
My body goes up in flames. It’s been entirely too long since I’ve felt this rush. Since I’ve felt this heat. How fucking perfect that it’s Hunter. How tragic. I’ve been open with Hunter because it’s easy knowing that I’m only here for a week, and for the first time since I got here, I find myself regretting that.
His thumb brushes my cheek, and a shiver racks my body.
Perfection. This is perfection.
I’m too lost in it to realize that his arm is gone, that instead of pulling me closer, his hand is skating up the bare skin of my side. The cool air rushing in pulls me to my senses, but not quickly enough, and he grips my hip, his thumb brushing the raised scar that runs jagged and ugly and terrible across my stomach.
I wrench away from him with a gasp. “Don’t touch me.”
Hunter holds his hands up in the air, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. “I’m sorry.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, fresh shame rushing in. Shame, shame, shame. Always fucking shame. “I…”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
Shaking my head, I draw in a deep breath. “It’s my fault. I forgot to tell you.” Was I even going to tell him? Probably not, truthfully.
“About your scar?” he says softly.
My body goes cold, but I open my eyes. He’s staring at me in concern, the warm browns and greens of his eyes slowly tracing my face. “Yeah. You felt it.” There’s something else in them too… something I can’t quite name. “You don’t seem… I mean—you’re not—”
Hunter takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. Why isn’t he shocked? I know he felt it. Iknowhe did. Why isn’t he reacting?
The question rattles around in my head, getting louder and louder until I can’t shove it down. My breath comes in ragged pants, and my stomach is twisted into knots, until I come to the only realization I can.
“You knew,” I somehow manage to choke out. He had to have. There’s no way someone is going to feel the awful, terrible scar that represents the worst parts of me and not react. He’s too calm. Too knowing. It’s easy to see in his expression. “Did you see it? My scar? You must have seen it.”
Hunter’s face screws up into a grimace. “Theo…” His voice is apologetic. It makes my stomach churn. Why is he saying my name like that? Like he pities me. I don’t want his fucking pity.
“No!” I practically scream. “Don’t fucking say my name like that. Like you feel sorry for me.”
He takes a step forward, and I take another step away, not stopping until my back hits the wood of the stall door behind me. I have nowhere to go, and I hate feeling trapped. My eyes scan my surroundings, trying to find my escape route. I just need a fucking way to escape.
“Theo, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sounds upset that I’d even think he might. Well, fuck him. He moves back until he’s far enough away that I have breathing room. Until he’s far enough away that he’s no longer blocking my exit.
“Did you see it?” I ask again. He had to have. Maybe my shirt rode up, or I wasn’t careful enough. It’s not exactly fucking easy to hide a scar that runs the entire length of your torso. “In bed? Is that how?”
He exhales a slow breath. “No. I didn’t see it.” Relief makes my knees weak. At least until he drops his gaze and says, “Not in bed, anyway.”
It takes a second for the words to register. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Hunter hangs his head, his eyes glued to the dirt in front of him. “I saw it in your file.”
My file?My file.
My blood freezes, and a high-pitched ringing starts in my ears as I sway on my feet. For a terrifying moment when my stomach lurches, I’m sure I’m going to throw up.
“How did you see my file?” I rasp out, my throat threatening to close up. “It was supposed to be confidential.”
His head snaps up. “It was, but I had to look at it. I had to review your case.”
