“Hunt,” I say, needing his name on my lips, touching him too, running my fingers through his hair, sliding them down his strong shoulders, wishing he would stay long enough for me to count each and every freckle there. If I lost track, I’d have to start again, so every time I’m about to finish, I would find a way to start over.
He plays with my balls, gives my glans lots of attention, pulling me closer and closer to that edge I crave but don’t want to tip over because once I do, it’s over.
But he’s too good, this moment too fucking good. Pleasure washes over me, takes me away, ends this moment with him as I thrust upward, toes curled in my socks, my body giving in to the satisfaction I’ve found in his mouth. Hunter takes each spurt the way I did his, swallowing them. Is he memorizing my taste the way I did his? Is he having second thoughts? Not care at all? All those thoughts run through my head as he sucks my softening shaft, then lies between my legs, head on my stomach, not looking at me.
I feel it the second I touch him, as I brush my finger over his temple. The regret. The sadness. The self-hatred of being here with me. He doesn’t give in to it right away, just liesthere with me on the floor, still facing away from me…one minute, two, three…or, hell, maybe only seconds.
“I gotta go.” He pushes away from me, stands up, and pulls his clothes back on.
“Hunt…”
“Don’t. I…fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t have done that.” He shoves his feet into his shoes as I lie naked on the floor between my couch and coffee table, watching him. “I can’t do this with you, Lucas. Not you,” is the last thing he says before walking away, the door closing softly behind him.
“I can’t do this with you, Lucas. Not you.”
Not you, not you, not you.
My apartment has never felt so quiet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucas
Me: I’m sorry.
My text from Sunday night has gone unanswered. I spent the last two Tuesdays with Hunter, and I’ve already gotten used to it, so this one feels heavy and lonely, which pisses me off. Why the fuck did I let myself do any of this? Spend time with Hunter, get wrapped up in him so quickly. I’m not a fucking kid anymore. It’s time to stop wanting someone I’ll never be able to have.
So, I get on an app, call someone over, and fuck their brains out as if that’ll magically make Hunter leave mine. It doesn’t work, just like it never worked before, and all it does is make me angrier at myself. This is getting out of control. It’s been out of control for a long time. We hung out a few times, then blew each other, and now it’s over. It doesn’t need to be something either of us obsesses over… Only, I know he is. As angry at myself as I am for letting this happen, I know he is too. That Hunter is torturing himself because of me, because of who I am to him, and I knew that would happen, yet I hooked up with him anyway.
I head to the gallery, determined to get some work done there since it seems to be impossible to do at home.
There are a few people inside. Isla is talking to a man and a woman, but the second she sees me, concern creases herbrow. Because of course she would take one look at me and know something is going on.
I give her a quick up-nod, then head to the office I share with her at the back of the gallery. I can access the photos I’m working on from anywhere, so I pull them up on the office computer. It’s a spread for a men’s magazine, an up-and-coming actor whose name is on everyone’s tongue right now, and I’m the one who got the shoot. The photos are fucking fabulous. We’d gone out to Orange County to shoot in a beach house and in the water there.
This is so much easier than dealing with people in real life. I’d rather look at them through the lens of my camera, where everyone is a whole lot simpler.
I’m not surprised when the door opens a few minutes later and Isla comes in. She sits on the edge of the desk. “Those are gorgeous, babe.”
“I know,” I reply, and she chuckles.
“Of course you do. Behind the camera is one place you never doubt yourself, even if you do everywhere else.”
“Fuck off. I don’t doubt myself in bed…or on the floor, against a wall…” But then, that’s not really true, is it? I doubted myself with Hunter.
She rolls her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Maybe it’s wrong of me. Maybe I should keep this to myself. Hunter’s business should be kept private, but I need to let this out. Maybe if I tell her, she’ll talk some sense into me, and I’ll stop obsessing about Hunter fucking King. I trust Isla more than anyone in this world, and I know she won’t ever tell anyone.
“I hooked up with Hunter.”
The room is silent for a moment.
“As in…”
