Page 21

I crack eggs into a bowl, beat them until my wrist aches, and line up strips of bacon on the skillet. Buster appears at my feet, sniffing the air and giving me his best “starving puppy” eyes, even though he just freaking ate. I toss him a chunk of cheese, which he devours with comical drama.

There’s a weird, fizzy happiness bubbling in my chest. I want everything to be perfect when Hunter gets home.

At seven-fifty-five, I hear the deadbolt click and my pulse spikes.

Hunter comes in with his head down, shoulders hunched under a threadbare navy hoodie. He looks wrecked—eyes hollow, hair a mess, skin shadowed with stubble. But when he sees me at the stove, something behind his eyes sharpens and comes alive.

He doesn’t say a word. Just drops his keys in the dish by the door, shrugs out of his hoodie, and beelines for me.

In three strides, he’s behind me, hands anchoring to my hips, body pressed so close I can feel his heartbeat in my back. He buries his face in my hair and breathes in, deep and shuddering.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” he rumbles, voice so low it vibrates through my bones. “I missed you.”

His arms wrap all the way around, pinning me against his chest. My hands go slack on the spatula as his mouth finds my neck, lips dragging slow and hot just under my ear.

I can’t help the noise that escapes me—a whimper, needy and helpless. I tip my head, giving him full access.

“You’re going to make me burn the bacon,” I gasp, but there’s no real protest in it. My whole body is melting, turning liquid under the relentless press of his hands.

He grunts, slides one palm under the hem of my T-shirt, and finds bare skin. His hand is huge and hot and calloused, splaying across my stomach. I suck in a breath as his thumb traces lazy circles at my waist, dipping lower with each pass.

“Fuck the bacon,” Hunter says into my hair, voice rough and raw. “I need you.” His hands keep moving, possessive, mapping every inch of my skin. He nips my earlobe and then murmurs, “I missed you so goddamn much.”

He turns off the stove and places the pot on a cool burner. Then he turns me in his arms and lifts me. When he deposits me on the edge of the counter, I gasp at the cool surface under my bare legs. He steps between my knees and pulls me forward until there’s not an inch of space left between us.

He kisses me hard. The kind of kiss that leaves no doubt about who owns whom.

“Missed you too,” I say, voice shaking with how badly I mean it.

Hunter leans over and kisses me. The world tilts at a dangerous angle when he slides his hands up under the T-shirt and yanks me closer by my hips. The force of it makes me gasp, and he eats the sound right out of my mouth.

My thighs clamp around his waist, and he grinds in, just enough for me to feel how hard he is through his pants that have definitely seen better days. The pressure sends a jolt through my core, and I arch, grabbing at the sharp angles of his shoulders for leverage.

“Come shower with me.” He plants both hands on my ass, lifting me off the counter like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks me down the hallway, lips never leaving my jaw, my throat, my shoulder. He’s growling, low and constant, and every noise vibrates straight through my body.

He shoves the bathroom door open with his hip and sets me on the edge of the sink to start the shower, then he peels off the T-shirt I’m wearing and tosses it to the tile. I wiggle out of my shorts and undies and let them drop. For a beat, he just looks, hands braced on the edge of the sink, eyes so fucking hungry it actually makes my knees shake.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, more animal than man.

I can’t take it. I yank at his pants, hard enough to nearly topple myself. “You’re overdressed,” I tell him, trying and failing to sound as cool as I want to. “Fix it.”

He does. His shirt, pants, and boxers hit the floor. Underneath, he’s already hard, thick, and flushed, the sight of him making my mouth go dry. He doesn’t give me long to gawk. With one arm around my waist, he hauls me upright and into the shower, and the blast of hot water is a shock to the system.

We’re instantly soaked, hair sticking to skin, water streaming over every inch. I shove my hands through his hair, digging in as he bends to mouth my collarbone, nipping at the delicate skin above my breast. It’s all touch and sensation, no space for thinking or talking or even breathing.

He pins me against the tile and goes to his knees. I give a little yelp when he grabs my left thigh and throws it over his shoulder, opening me up. For a second, I’m embarrassed, then he slides two fingers through my folds, and my mind shuts down completely.

“I’m going to eat you for breakfast.” His breath is hot, words nearly lost in the roar of water.

I shake my head, wild with it. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against my inner thigh, and then he licks me. Slow and sweet at first, just teasing. Then he sucks my clit between his lips, just like that, and I nearly lose my balance. I dig my fingers into his hair and hold on for dear life.

He works me with his mouth, switching between torturously light flicks and deep, insistent pressure, until my knees are jelly and I’m begging, actually begging, for more. His name is a prayer on my tongue, half drowned out by the water and the slap of his hand as he grips my ass, holding me steady.

When I start to shake, he adds a finger, then another, fucking me slow and deep while his tongue never lets up. The coil in my belly snaps, and I come so hard I see actual stars, nails scraping his scalp, sobbing his name like it’s the only word I know.

He stands and kisses me, all tongue and teeth, and I taste myself on him. It’s filthy and perfect, and I want him inside me right now. He lifts me up, and I wrap my leg around his waist. I reach down, fisting his cock, so thick and hot. I have to guide it between my legs, lining him up with my entrance.