Page 160 of Now and Then
“You’ll survive,” I toss over my shoulder.
Our bedroom is aglow from the thin tree I placed in the corner. The full moon filters through our drapes. I’m so tempted to open them, to see what Hunter’s been up to back there, but as much as I want to see, I’m looking forward to his reaction to my reaction the most.
I balk as I sniff my clothes and hair. Burnt turkey eau de parfum is not really the vibe I’m going for. I slip off my black tights and woolen emerald dress, twist my hair into a clip, and step into the shower.
A floorboard creaks.
Hunter fills the doorway, sleeves rolled, shirt untucked, gaze dark.
“I thought I told you to stay.”
“You did,” he says, stepping into our room, voice all velvet and sin, “but I’m not good at following the rules.”
With one hand, he slips his shirt off his broad frame. The sight of his sculpted, hairy chest sends a wave of anticipation through me. He toes off his boots and unbuttons his Wranglers. He pauses when he’s down to his black briefs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, adding soap to my loofa.
He holds out his casted arm. “You think I could cut it off myself?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Hunter wraps his cast with a plastic shower protector. I’m not even sure why he bothers covering it up at this point—the cast is filthy and worn down and practically falling off his arm.
He steps near the shower. “Can I help you with that?” He takes the loofa from my hand and enters the shower.
I step toward him, slipping my fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs, and slowly peel them off his frame. When I kneel down to untangle them from his feet, he groans.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I tease, “you like me on my knees, but I’m too tired for that tonight.”
He cups my cheek with his good hand, thumb caressing my bottom lip. “I do like you like this, but what I like most is the way you care for me without thinking.”
I stand and wrap my arms around his torso.
“I always hoped and prayed,” he says, “that we’d find our way to each other. That someday we’d get our forever. I’ve never been more thankful that we finally figured out how to get out of the damn way.”
“Me too, baby,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his.
We stay under the warm spray of water, touching, kissing, and holding one another until the water runs tepid. Hunter takes a large, fluffy, white towel and towels me dry, each nerve ending in my body stands at the ready. He glides the towel along my arms, around my breasts. He swipes it along my stomach, the fabric caressing my ribs. He kneels to drag it slowly up each thigh and gently presses it to my center, eliciting a sharp inhale from me.
His eyes meet mine—intense, full of heat and humor and worship all tangled together.
“Can I have my present now?” His voice sends tingles down my spine.
“No,” I sigh, “but you can have me.”
That’s all it takes.
Hunter drops the towel, rips the plastic from his cast, and scoops me into his arms one-handed. I yelp when he tosses me onto the bed, bouncing against the down comforter.
“Good god,” he groans, spreading my thighs, eyes roaming. “When your tits bounce like that, I . . .”
He lowers himself between my thighs, and whatever witty retort I had evaporates, along with every stray thought in my mind. My fingers clutch his shoulders. The room falls away until there’s only the warmth of his breath, the sure grip of his hands on my body, and the kind of devotion I’ve waited half my life for.
Just before the world blurs completely . . .
“Hunter,” I whisper, catching his jaw in my hand. “You’re my person. I love you.”
His gaze lifts, a combination of hunger and emotion.
