He comes back a second later, stopping right in front of me, still naked, his pretty cock lying flaccid between his legs. God, he’s so fucking sexy. I can’t believe I get to see him this way, that I had him inside me. I wish he’d been able to take me bare, that I’d have Hunter’s load in me right now.
“Lucas.”
“What?” I snap.
He sighs, hooks his finger beneath my chin, and tilts my head up. “I’m sorry for leaving like that last week. That’s what I was trying to say. I freaked out. It’s not an excuse, but I’d think you’d understand why.”
Yeah, I do. I drop my forehead against his stomach.
Hunter stiffens for a moment before his body relaxes. He cards his fingers through the hair at my nape, soothing me.
“What are we doing?” His voice is slightly shaky.
I know whatI’mdoing. I’m taking what I want, what I’ve always wanted. It’s him I’m confused about. I pull back, take a drag of my cigarette, then put it out. He hates smoking, and I hate smoking inside.
“You have to know we shouldn’t be doing this, Lucas. Why the fuck do we even want to do this?” His voice breaks,all sadness and confusion, when all I ever want is to make Hunter feel good.
“Why did you come over tonight?” I need to know. Hunter isn’t the type to come just for a quick lay—at least, the Hunter I used to know wasn’t, but the Hunter I used to know wasn’t in the news for being seen with different women either.
“I didn’t expect this…or, hell, maybe I did and I’m lying to myself. I’d been flying high from the game. These past few weeks, I’ve felt so good about football again, and I realized I wanted someone to talk to about it, but…the only person I wanted to talk to was you.”
My heart nearly punches out of my chest. I imagine it like a cartoon, breaking free and working its way inside him.
Hunter, having no idea he’s fucking killing me right now, forges on. “Why did I even want to talk to you about the game? You fucking hate football, and with good reason. But I wanted to share it with you because even though it makes no sense, it feels like you get it…what I’m feeling. What I’m thinking. It’s confusing as hell.”
Jesus, this fucking man. Why does everything about him make me feel like this? Like I’m being ripped apart and sewn back together at the same time? It’s always been this way. I wanted to hate him, I’ve always wanted to hate him, but I never can.
I set my hand on his hip, and Hunter starts playing with my hair again, coming easily as I pull him closer. He climbs right on top of me, straddling me, arms around my shoulders, mine around his waist.
“I watched your game,” I admit, tickling my fingers up and down his back, wanting to kiss every single bruise on his torso. The Comeback King. They called him that again.
“I hoped you would.”
Silence grows between us, Hunter’s fingers in my hair, mine all over his warm skin.
“When you opened the door, it hit me, how much I want you. How good you make me feel. I haven’t felt good in a long time.”
Not since my brother, I assume. The thought feels like someone dropped my heart in acid.
“I’ll make you feel good anytime you want,” I tell him, hoping I’m hiding the emotion in my words.
“You’re fucking with my head.”
I wish I could tell him,welcome to my world.
“You’re allowed to feel good, Hunt.”
He flinches.
“Youare.”
“I’m betraying Ellis.”
“Ellis is dead.” I look away.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not betraying him, but I’m selfish enough to keep wanting to do this with you.”
“Hunter…you’re the least selfish person I know.” But it doesn’t escape my attention that we’re both grappling with the same emotions. Both feeling selfish, both feeling like we’re betraying Ellis. Does he hate himself for it too? I don’t want him to. I don’t want Hunter to feel bad about anything.
