Chapter nine
Kat
Trying to sleep knowing Hunter is just outside my bedroom door proves to be impossible. I tossed and turned all night, obsessing over whether he could hear me or not.
I roll over in bed and fumble to turn off my alarm. My body feels twitchy and agitated, and it takes me a minute to realize it’s because I’m horny. Then I’m grabbing my pillow and using it to stifle a groan of embarrassment. My dreams come back to me in flashes — naked, writhing on the sheets, moaning his name.
Oh God, I hope I didn’t say anything out loud.
Maybe I’ll just stay in here until he eventually leaves. But how will I know when he leaves? What if he already snuck out because he heard me moaning out his name like a hussy!Crap, I’ll never live this down.
The sound of a toilet flushing and then the bathroom door opening and closing springs me into action. I jump out of bed, throw my hair up in a messy bun, and ignore the dark circles under my eyes. Pulling a hoodie over my tank top, I carefully open the door to my bedroom. The hallway is empty, so I dart across it into the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash some cold water on my face.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I try to get a grip on things. I have to face him eventually.
I open the door slowly and walk down the hall. My eyes go immediately to the couch, but to my surprise, the bed has already been put away, the duvet and pillow folded neatly on top. Sounds come from the kitchen, and I pivot to see Hunter opening and closing cabinets. The bag of coffee beans is out on the counter beside him, and like one of Pavlov’s dogs, my mouth starts to water.
“Look to the right of the fridge,” I say as I enter the kitchen. He twists and gives me a grin over his shoulder before moving to the correct cabinet and taking down two mugs.
“Morning, Kitty Kat.”
He fills the mugs with coffee, then reaches into my fridge and pulls out my special holiday creamer. The entire thing feels weird. But like, a good weird. A domestic, intimate weird.
After pouring some peppermint mocha creamer into a mug and stirring it, he hands it to me. “I don’t know if you want sugar, but I assume you like this stuff since there’s two bottles in your fridge.”
I swallow my first sip of rich, fresh coffee and sigh happily. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
Hunter eyes his mug speculatively before shrugging and pouring some creamer into his own. He lifts the mug to his mouth, and my eyes follow, watching shamelessly as he takes a drink. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows, and I squeeze my legs together automatically.
Seriously? The way he swallows turns me on? Good grief, I think I need a session with my vibrator tonight to take the edge off or something. This is ridiculous.
“Huh, that’s actually pretty freaking good,” he comments, giving me a wide smile over his mug. “Peppermint mocha creamer. Who would’ve guessed I’d like that.”
“It’s Christmas in a mug,” I say, taking another drink. “Whowouldn’tlike that.”
“The grinch,” he answers seriously. I stare at him, and a beat later he chuckles, and I join him.
“You have a great laugh in the morning.”
I almost choke on my sip of coffee at his oddly specific comment. “Only in the morning?”
Hunter blushes, and it’s the cutest thing ever. And yet, I’m starting to notice a pattern. Any time he says something funny, or teasing, it’s as if he instantly second-guesses himself. Like he regrets it or is worried I’ll be upset. Which is the farthest thing from the truth. All I want to do is wrap my arms around him, hold on tight, and soak up some of his goodness.
“I don’t know why I said that.”
I clear my throat and give him a big smile. “You’re taken by my deep morning voice, I get it. It’s irresistible. Like Sam Elliott and James Earl Jones had a baby.”
Hunter almost chokes on his coffee with laughter. “Oh, fuck no.”
“C’mon, lets go sit in the living room.” I move out of the kitchen, determined to keep that smile on his face. For some reason, I occasionally get the feeling that Hunter doesn’t think as highly of himself as I know so many other people do. Does he really think his happy, funny nature is not a good thing?
Is that sense of humour masking something else?
We sit down on opposite ends of the couch and drink our coffee in silence. Once again, I’m struck by how relaxed and comfortable it is being with him in my house. I don’t remember it ever being this easy even having Tyson at my house.
“I have to say, I expected you to have a house full of Christmas gnomes or something,” Hunter says with a wink. “But instead, nothing. Not a candy cane in sight.”
“It’s the first week of December and I just finished exams. Cut me some slack.” I narrow my eyes back at him. “Besides, I don’t recall seeing any Christmas lights at your house, either.”
