Page 56 of P.S. It’s Always Been You
“That worked out real well for me. I’m single and pirate free.”
“How is it working with the adventuresome Hunter?” she asks.
I could tell her it’s both amazing and terrible. I could say he’s wonderful and vexing. I could beckon her close to the screen and say he gave me one of the best orgasms of my life in a car earlier today and he kisses like he’s conducting the New York Philharmonic and it’s all he’s ever wanted to do.
But I don’t understand what’s happening with him. I don’t have the emotional energy to excavate my day. “It’s fine. We get along fine.”
“Are you still in love with him?”
I scowl. “No. I haven’t been in years.”
“If you say so . . .”
My phone buzzes with an incoming call, and the screen displays Hunter’s name. It’s nearly midnight. “I need to go.”
She waves goodbye and I click over, but before I can say anything, he says, “I’m downstairs. Can I come up?”
“You’re here? You just showed up?” And maybe I’m still annoyed. Maybe I have a reason to be.
“Yes. Can you please let me up?” His tone borders on desperate, but it’s intense too, like he needs this.
I take a deep breath, considering the options. Turn him away and wonder. Let him up and find out what the hell is going through his mind.
“Fine.” I buzz him in.
I conduct a two-second scan of my place. I could change. I could do the mad dash around and slip on jeans and a sexy top. But who cares? If something more was going to happen with us, he wouldn’t have answered that call earlier.
I figure he’s here because he cracked the clue, and sure enough, when I fling open the door, his eyes sparkle with the thrill of discovery.
“You figured it out?” I ask.
His eyes stroll up and down my body. They take their time, lingering, pausing, gawking. He scrubs his hand over his jaw. “Yeah. I figured out this.”
24
Presley
He steps inside, shuts the door, and puts his hands on my face.
My knees go weak. My stomach swoops.
His voice is commanding as he asks, “Did you meet anyone tonight?”
But I don’t let my body control me.
I step back, shaking him off. “You can’t just walk in here and question me.”
He soldiers on, determined. “Did you meet anyone?”
I’m determined too. Determined not to melt. “I met a lot of people. What’s it to you?”
“Anyone you like?”
I cross my arms. “Maybe. Why does it matter? Do you want to know if someone finger-banged me in the car and then took a call?”
He heaves a sigh and hangs his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I toss back, even though I can tell he is. But still, he could have said it earlier.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he takes a big breath. “Look, that was stupid. Trevor was calling from overseas, and I was worried that he was hurt. You think I wouldn’t rather have been kissing you like I started to when I ignored his first call?”
He has a fair point, but I don’t want to read the tea leaves of men. “Hunter, I don’t know what you want.”
“You don’t? You really don’t?” He sounds half pissed, half alpha, and it’s hella sexy, but I’m not giving in.
I stand my ground. “No. Maybe you want to spell it out for me.”
“Okay, I can do that,” he says, cool and matter-of-fact as he counts off on his fingers. “One, I don’t want you going home with anyone tonight. Two, I definitely don’t want anyone else touching you. Three, I want you to my-fucking-self. How’s that?”
I smile inside, but only inside, as I make him work for me. “Your spelling isn’t bad.”
He seems to rein in a grin. “So sassy, so fiery.”
“Want to spell anything else out?” I ask, giving him the fire I feel, the fire he wants. “Like, say, why you’re here?”
Because I know why he’s here.
His tea leaves aren’t hard to read right now. He’s not here because of the letter. He’s here for me. His eyes blaze, and his want radiates off him, pulsing as if it has its own frequency.
But he needs to say it.
“I’m here for you.” The way he says “you” is coated in gravel, covered with need. It makes me shudder, against my better judgment.
Or maybe my body is a good judge.
Because my mind likes what he’s saying, and the order he said it in—first came the apology, then comes the want.
“Is that the truth?” I ask.
He steps closer and strokes his thumb along my jawline, eliciting a full-body shiver. “Yes. I’m here for you. Because you drive me crazy. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because the thought of you talking to other men makes me insane with jealousy.”
I raise my chin. “Then I hope you haven’t gone mad. But I’ll have you know, no one interested me.”
