Page 108 of Hunter

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down until he’s blanketing me completely, his weight warm and grounding. Our legs tangle. His half-hard cock rests against my thigh, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

We kiss for a long time. His hand strokes up and down my side, thumb brushing over my ribs, my waist, the curve of my hip. I run my fingers through his hair, down his back, tracing the raised lines of his scars without hesitation.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, eyes closed, breathing me in.

“I love you,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it. “So much it scares me. But the good kind of scared.”

I cup his face with both hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “I love you, too. All of you. The scars, the history, the man you’re still becoming.”

Hunter’s eyes open, soft and shining. He turns his head and kisses my palm.

We stay tangled in bed for another hour, trading slow kisses and quiet words. Sofia eventually demands breakfast with loud, offended meows, and we both laugh.

Hunter kisses me one last time before rolling out of bed.

“Stay,” he says, pulling on his boxers. “I’ll feed the demon and bring you coffee.”

I watch him walk over to the tiny kitchenette, heart so full it feels as if it might burst. The morning light catches on the scars across his shoulder and upper arm, but they don’t look like wounds anymore. They look like part of the man I love. He moves easily around my space now, like he belongs here. As though he’s always belonged here.

I pull the sheet up over my chest and just…watch him. Two weeks have passed since that first full night together, and every single day has felt like a quiet miracle. We’re not rushing. We’re not pretending everything is perfect. We’re just… together. Learning each other again in the light instead of the dark.

I watch Hunter from the bathroom doorway as he buttons up his dark shirt in front of the mirror. He looks good—really good—sleeves rolled up to show the scars on his forearms, hair still a little messy from my fingers earlier. But I can see the tiny tension in his shoulders.

I step up behind him, sliding my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek to his back.

“Hey,” I say softly. “You sure you’re okay with going out tonight? There’s going to be alcohol. A lot of it. Lucy’s friends don’t really do low-key.”

Hunter’s hands pause on the last button. He meets my eyes in the mirror, then turns in my arms so we’re facing each other. His hands settle on my hips, thumbs stroking gently.

“I’m sure,” he says. “I talked to Clark this afternoon. We went over some strategies. I’ve got my Coke plan, and if it gets too loud in my head, I’ll tell you.”

I search his face, looking for any flicker of doubt. “And if you want to leave early? Even if we’ve only been there twenty minutes?”

“Then we leave.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “I’m not going to risk this—us—for a night out. I’ve worked too hard to get here. I’m not going to fuck it up for cheap beer and loud music.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest feel tight in the best way. I rise up on my toes and kiss him properly.

“I’m really proud of you,” I whisper against his lips. “And I love you. So much.”

Hunter smiles into the kiss, hands sliding down to squeeze my ass. “Love you, too. Now, stop worrying and let me take my ridiculously hot boyfriend out so his friends can be jealous.”

I laugh and shove his chest playfully. “Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on you all night.”

“Good,” he says, stealing one more kiss. “I like it when you watch me.”

We finish getting ready, and when we step out into the cold evening air, Hunter laces our fingers together without hesitation. The first snow is coming, you can smell it and taste it with each breath. The walk to the bar is filled with easy flirting that never gets old with him.

By the time we meet up with Lucy and the group, the tension in his shoulders has eased. He orders his Coke with lime right away, and when someone tries to push a shot toward him, he just smiles and shakes his head before I can say a word.

“I’m good,” he says easily, then pulls me closer to his side. “Got everything I need right here.”

“Everything?” I tease, wiggling against his side.

“Everything. Have you met my boyfriend? He’s the prettiest boy in all of New York City. Maybe even the world. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Lucy grins at us, clearly delighted by how disgustingly couple-y we’ve become. She sets her drink down and slides onto a stool.

“You two are sickeningly cute,” she declares. “I hate it. I love it. Never change.”