Page 61 of Hunter

Something ugly and possessive flares hot in my gut.

He’s too calm. Too fucking understanding. Like this doesn’t even hurt him and I’m just another guy who passed through his life, and now he’s ready to move on to the next one. How many others are there? How many other damaged assholes has he let kiss him on doorsteps and then shrugged when they pulled away?

I expected him to push back. I wanted him to push back. Instead, he’s standing there looking at me like he already knew this was coming, like I’m not even special enough to fight for.

The thought burns.

I grind my teeth. “That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”

Charlie shrugs, small and tired. “What do you want me to say, Hunter? That it sucks? Yeah, it does. But I’m not going to beg you to want me. I’ve done enough begging in my life.”

Fuck.

He’s being mature. Reasonable. Giving me exactly the clean break I told myself I wanted. And all it does is make me want to crowd him against the brick wall and kiss him until he stops being so goddamn understanding.

I hate how much I want that. I hate how easily he’s letting me go.

Because if he’s this okay with it, then maybe I was never that important to him in the first place. Maybe I’m just another intense older guy who got a kiss and one amazing day before he moved on to someone less fucked up.

The possessiveness claws up my throat. I want to tell him no one else gets to have him. I want to tell him he’s mine to watch over, mine to want, mine to ruin if anyone has to. But I don’t say any of it.

I just nod, once, like my chest isn’t caving in.

“Alright,” I manage. “See you Friday, then.”

Charlie looks at me for a long moment—those soft blue-gray eyes searching my face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “See you next week.”

Chapter 25

Charlie

I’m a few steps away from him, heart heavy in my throat, when he grabs my wrist.

Hunter spins me back toward him so fast I stumble. A gasp parts my lips as I slam into his chest, the impact knocking the air out of me. His other arm bands around my waist instantly, holding me there, tight and unyielding.

For a second, neither of us moves.

I can feel his heart hammering against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my temple. He smells like soap and the faint trace of the cheap coffee from group, and my body reacts before my brain can catch up—heat flooding low in my stomach, knees going weak.

“Fuck,” he growls, the word vibrating through his chest. “I can’t do it.”

His grip on my wrist tightens, then slides up to cup the back of my neck, fingers threading into my curls almost possessively. He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are dark, wild, the careful control he had minutes ago completely shattered.

“I tried,” he says, voice low and rough. “I told myself I was going to stay away. That I was doing the right thing. But the second you started walking away like it didn’t even fucking hurt you…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he crashes his mouth down on mine.

This kiss is nothing like the one on my doorstep. That one had restraint. This one is pure hunger. His tongue pushes past my lips like he’s starving, one hand fisting in my hair while the other slides down to grip my ass, yanking me harder against him. I moan into his mouth, hands scrambling up his chest to clutch his shirt as he backs me up against the brick wall of the alley.

The rough surface scrapes my back through my hoodie, but I don’t care. All I care about is the way he’s devouring me—like he’s angry at me for making it so easy to let him go, and he needs to remind me who I belong to.

When he finally rips his mouth away, we’re both panting. His forehead presses against mine, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m not good for you,” he rasps. “I know I’m not. But the thought of someone else getting to touch you…” His fingers dig into my hip, possessive and bruising. “It makes me fucking crazy, Charlie.”

Fuck me.