Chapter 19
Natalia
I’d never been so nervous for a date in my life. It made no sense. I’d spent time with Hunter, knew he was a decent guy, so why was I unable to sit down and relax? In the last half hour, I’d unloaded the dishwasher, reorganized two kitchen cabinets, and now I was checking the date on each spice in the spice rack. I shouldn’t have gotten ready so early. When the buzzer rang, I literally jumped at the sound.
Wine. I need wine.
“Come on up,” I feigned calm and casual as I pressed the button to unlock the interior door downstairs. I then proceeded to run to the refrigerator, pour a glass of Shiraz and down it like it was medicine. I made it back to the door just as Hunter stepped off the elevator.
He was dressed more casually than I’d expected—in a pair of jeans and a navy polo. Don’t get me wrong, he looked delicious, but when I’d asked him how to dress for where we were going, he’d said a sexy dress and heels. As he strode toward my door, his eyes did a sweep over me, and I felt warmth travel through my body that had nothing to do with the alcohol coursing through my veins.
“I think I overdressed.”
Hunter leaned in and covered my lips with his for a quick hello. “Nope. You’re dressed just right.”
“But you’re wearing a polo and jeans. You said a sexy dress, so I thought that meant the dress code was more formal.”
“I said sexy because that’s what I wanted to see on you. There is no dress code where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?”
“My place. I’m cooking you dinner.”
“I could have worn jeans for that.”
He smirked. “Might want to ask where we’re going in the future, rather than what you should wear. Because my answer’s always going to be sexy dress and heels, even if we’re going to McDonald’s.”
I laughed, stepping aside. “You’re impossible. Come in for a minute. I need to tell Izzy I’m leaving.”
Inside, Izzy had emerged from her bedroom and was hanging on the refrigerator door. She glanced up. “Hi, Hunter.” And went back to staring at the food.
“I made you ravioli.”
“I’m on a diet. Do we have anything low carb?”
“What? A diet? Since when? And better yet, why? You’re a size two.”
“Since this morning.”
I walked to the refrigerator, took out the ravioli and sauce and put it on the counter. “Start your diet tomorrow.” I kissed her cheek. “Mrs. Whitman knows I’m going out. I won’t be home late.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
“No one in the apartment while I’m gone.”
Izzy rolled her eyes. “There goes the rager I had planned.”
The nerves the wine had calmed were back in full force once I was on the way to Hunter’s apartment. I stared out the car window, debating whether I was ready to sleep with him. I’d thought we were going out to eat, and since he knows I have to be home early for Izzy, it wasn’t something I’d been worried about. Now dinner was at his house, and I knew all it would take was one kiss and my decision-making skills would be hampered. I needed to make a decision while I was not under the influence of his hard body pressed against mine.
Hunter side-glanced to me and back to the road. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Nothing.”
We stopped at a light, and Hunter turned to me. He didn’t say a word. Instead, his eyes pointed down to where my hands were picking lint off my dress that wasn’t there. Then his gaze met mine.
“Shut up,” I said.
He chuckled, and the light changed, pulling his attention back to the road. I’d thought I’d been granted a reprieve, but a half a block later, he casually said, “We’re not having sex tonight, if that makes you relax a little more.”
Did he just say…
“What?”
“Sex. We’re not having it.”
“Why not?”
“Because tonight I’m making you dinner. We’re going to share a good meal and talk about sex. I want to know what you’re up for and what you’re not. But you have to be home early for Izzy.”
“Isn’t that a tad presumptuous of you? Assuming you’re the one who gets to decide when we have sex. What if I don’t plan on ever having sex with you?”
“I think your wet panties when we kiss says you do plan on having sex with me.”
“My panties are not wet when we kiss.” I totally lied.
“Okay. I’ll check next time to prove you wrong.”
I didn’t put it past him to do exactly that. “Let’s back this conversation up a little. So you’ve decided we aren’t having sex tonight. What if I told you I wanted to have sex? You wouldn’t have sex with me?”
He actually considered my question for a minute, which I found rather amusing. “What I meant was, I wasn’t going to try to have sex with you tonight. But if you try to have it with me, by all means, you’ll be getting fucked.”
I probably should have been offended for a dozen different reasons, but I wasn’t in the slightest. Instead, the ludicrousness of the conversation made me burst out laughing. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I was stressing over us potentially having sex tonight. And now I’m not. So as strange as this conversation was, it actually made me feel better.”
Hunter smiled as he pulled into an underground parking garage. “Glad to help. And trust me, I haven’t even begun to make you feel better yet.”
***
“Wow. This is a sublet?” The apartment Hunter was staying in was really nice. It wasn’t huge, but it was modern, with high ceilings and an open floor plan, so it felt bigger than the square footage—though it was the outside space that elevated the place from really nice to damn spectacular. New York and outside space weren’t normally bedfellows. But this place had a balcony big enough for two lounge chairs, a table that seated six, a barbeque, and a dozen potted plants.
“It’s owned by Khaill-Jergin, the builder I work for. They keep this one and a few others as corporate apartments, mostly for when executives from the London office are in town. I lucked out that one was available.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Hunter slid the sliding glass doors open and held his hand out for me to step through first.
“The view is sensational,” I said. “Yet it feels serene at the same time.”
Hunter smiled. “That was the goal. Each project has an essence statement. This building was an oasis in the jungle. It opened five years ago. After I graduated, I did my internship with the architect who designed this building at Khaill. The initial design was done, but the architect winds up doing a lot of revisions while the building is going up. So this was the first project I ever worked on.
“Wow. That’s really cool. Honestly, most of the time, I don’t even think about the buildings I’m walking past every day. It must be amazing to walk by one and look up, knowing you designed it.”
He nodded. I’d become plenty acquainted with conceited Hunter, but I’d never met the humble side of him before. I liked it.
Come to think of it, I liked conceited Hunter, too.
“You warm enough to have a glass of wine out here before dinner?”
“Sure. I’d love that.”
Hunter went inside and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of merlot. He came up behind me, handed me my wine, and leaned both wrists on the rail on either side of me, caging me in as we took in the sunset and sipped. The silence was comfortable, although the feel of him so close behind me, and the profound effect it had on my body, was unnerving. After a few minutes and the feel of his warm breath tickling my neck, I felt my breaths coming quicker and deeper.
“Turn around, Natalia.”
Hunter’s voice was low and so damn seductive. I waited for him to step back so I could maneuver around to face him. After a few more heavy breaths, I realized he had no intention of giving me space, so I turned while locked between his arms. Between the close proximity, his light blue eyes, and his intoxicating smell, I needed more wine. Raising my glass to my lips, I proceeded to down the half-full glass.
When I was done, Hunter raised a brow.
I held up the empty glass and shook it back and forth. A snippet of the conversation we’d had in the car replayed in my head. “I wasn’t going to try to have sex with you tonight. But if you try to have it with me, by all means, you’ll be getting fucked.”
I bit my lip, and Hunter seemed to read my mind. Taking the empty glass from my hand, he set it down on the floor next to us, along with his own half-full glass. When I unconsciously wet my lips, he muttered a string of curses before planting his mouth over mine.
The taste of wine on his tongue was enough to make me feel like I’d drunk the entire bottle myself. My head was woozy, my body tingled, and I wanted to climb the damn man like a tree. He pressed his body even tighter to mine, and my back arched from the railing toward his as my fingers clenched a fistful of his hair.
He groaned when I yanked. “I can’t wait to be inside you. You make me hard as a rock.”
With a thrust of his hips, he demonstrated that he wasn’t exaggerating. Oh God. I was so desperate I could probably come from just dry humping with this man. Resisting taking things further was a challenge I wasn’t sure I could endure for too long.
When the kiss broke, Hunter looked just as bamboozled by our chemistry as I was. We stared into each other’s eyes for a while.
“You’re really good at that,” I told him.
His smile was playful as his brows drew down. “What?”
“Kissing.”
He leaned in and brushed his lips with mine. “I’m good at kissing other places, too. Just say the word and I’ll show you.”
I laughed. “Seriously. Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Hunter? You’re handsome, smart, have a great job, own a beautiful house, you’re an amazing kisser, and you can fix a sink and build things. You’re prime boyfriend material.”
His playful look turned serious. He also pulled back a bit, though he didn’t release me from the confines of his arms and the balcony rail.
“I don’t want that type of relationship.” He studied me carefully. “I like you. You’re beautiful and smart. We enjoy each other. But I’m not looking for anything serious.”
Even though he’d been upfront since we met, and I was not looking for a relationship at all, somehow it stung to hear him say that.
“What does that mean, exactly? That I’ll be in your bed one night and someone else the next?”
“Absolutely not. We’d be exclusive. To be clear, that’s a two-way street. My expectation, once you’re in my bed, is that you won’t be fucking anyone else either.”
“Okay…and we’d spend time together outside of the bedroom, too?”
“Of course. I’ll always make sure you eat before I eat you.”
I squirmed a little at the thought. “So the difference between what we’d be doing and a relationship is…”
Our gazes locked. “Expectations.”
Since we were laying our cards on the table and having a little heart to heart, I figured I’d push a bit further. “You said you had one serious relationship that lasted years.”
Hunter nodded. “That’s right.”
“I married my only real serious relationship. That disaster is the primary reason I’ve been avoiding anyone with real relationship potential. I lie to myself and others by saying I don’t want a relationship because I need to focus on my work and Izzy. While that’s partially true, if I’m being honest, it’s also because Garrett burned me pretty bad, and I haven’t fully gotten over it yet.” I paused for a few seconds. “Does your not wanting a relationship have to do with the one serious one you had?”
He looked away, staring over my shoulder and out into the lit-up city before returning his eyes to mine. “Yes, but not in the way you probably think.”
“Did she break your heart?”
“We broke each other’s.” He cleared his throat and took a step back. “How about we go eat?”
“Okay.” I followed Hunter to the kitchen and offered to help. But he’d already done all the prep work for a dinner of chicken and broccoli pesto bowtie pasta. It was put together in a sauté pan, and all he needed to do was warm it up. He turned the gas cooktop on and filled my wine glass again while I sat on a stool at the island, watching him.
“Do you cook often?” I asked his back while sipping my wine and admiring the way his ass filled out his jeans.
He glanced back and caught me checking him out. Flashing a knowing, cocky half-smile he said, “Only when I want to eat.”
“You don’t order in a lot?”
“I like to try to eat healthy when I’m home. I travel a lot, so I have no choice but to eat out a lot. So when I’m home, I attempt to avoid eating crap. Plus, I like to cook. How about you?”
“I cook most nights to feed Izzy a balanced meal. In the mornings, she grabs a bar and runs out the door at six-thirty before school and doesn’t get home from sports until almost seven most nights. Dinner is the only chance I have to make sure she gets decent nourishment. Plus…” I smiled. “I like to cook, too.”
“You’re really good with her.”
I sipped my wine. “Thanks. I’m totally bluffing it. I have no idea how to raise a teenager.”
“You’d never know it.”
“My mom always said good parenting was spending half the amount of money you think you should and double the amount of free time you have with your kids. Lucky for Izzy, I’m always broke and have no life.”
Hunter chuckled and turned his attention back to the stove. He lifted the pan off the flame and flicked his wrist a few times to stir dinner before setting it down again. Then he lowered the heat to a simmer and came to lean across the other side of the island from me with his wine in hand.
“So what are your limits?”
I sipped. “My limits?”
“In bed. What’s a no for you?”
I was mid-swallow of my wine, and the casual way he’d asked the question caught me so off guard that I gulped it down the wrong pipe. I sputtered and coughed.
“You okay?”
I nodded and put my hand up while catching my breath. My voice was strained when I could finally speak. “Stop doing that to me. Who talks like that?”
“What?”
“You just asked about my sexual limits so casually, like you were asking if I wanted a glass of water.”
“How would you have liked me to ask?”
“I don’t know. Maybe less business and more personal, perhaps.”
He nodded. “Okay. I can do that.” Reaching across the counter, he took my hands into his. “Sweet pea, you have a mighty fine ass. What are your thoughts on my tapping that?”
I felt my face shade pink, and a knowing grin spread across his.
“You’re a jerk.”
“Pretty sure that’s not news to you.”
A crackle popped from the pan on the stove, forcing Hunter’s attention back to heating dinner. I watched him move around the kitchen with grace as he plated two meals and cut up a loaf of semolina bread. Though there was a dining room table, without discussing it, we ate in the kitchen on the island across from one another. It reminded me of hanging out and enjoying a meal with a friend, rather than forcing the formality of eating in the dining room. I liked that he just went with the flow. Garrett would never have eaten in the kitchen.
“This is really good,” I said. “Did you make the cream sauce yourself?”
“I did. Thank you.”
Hunter forked pasta and chicken, and I couldn’t help watching the way his throat worked to swallow the food. The masculine bob of his Adam’s apple was hypnotic. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch him undress if the sight of his neck did this to me.
As we ate, I quietly deliberated saying something. I had no doubt Hunter and I would have great sex, but if I was open with him, the way he was with me, things could only be better. So, deciding to push my embarrassment to the side, I opened up.
“I’ve never had anal sex.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He tore a piece of bread in half and dipped it around in the sauce on his plate. “Opposed to it?”
“I’m not sure opposed to it is the right term. Terrified might fit better.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Good to know. We’ll save that for when you learn to trust me in bed. How about oral?”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation. “Giving or receiving?”
“Both.”
“I enjoy both.”
His eyes scorched with heat. “Opposed to being tied up?”
God, there was a lot Garrett and I didn’t do. “Never tried it. But I’d be open to it.”
“Nice. Toys?”
My face heated. “I have a vibrator, yes.”
“Opposed to using it for me?”
My mouth dropped open. I’d never masturbated with anyone watching. “I’m not sure.”
His eyes dropped to my pebbled nipples and rose back to meet mine. “I’ll take that as a yes. Any fetishes?”
“Me? No. You?”
“Not really. But would it scare you if I told you I’d love to spank your ass.”
I swallowed and whispered, “Oddly, no, not at all.”
“After I spank you, I’d take you from behind while you’re on all fours. Opposed?”
Jesus Christ. I didn’t answer, but that wasn’t because I was against it, I just couldn’t figure out how to get my mouth to move. Seeming to sense that my silence wasn’t a bad thing, his sinful mouth continued on.
“And when I’m done, I want to come all over your ass and back.”
“God, Hunter.”
“When is the next time Izzy is staying at her grandmother’s? I want a whole night the first time I’m inside you.”
In the moment, I couldn’t remember what day it was, much less which weekend my stepdaughter was scheduled to visit her grandmother. I gulped from my wine glass in a very unladylike manner and answered honestly. “Not soon enough.”
Somehow we managed to not claw each other’s clothes off after that. When we’d finished dinner, we cleaned up together and then sat in the living room talking. There was no lull in our conversation as we covered everything from work to our last vacations and places we’d like to visit. Hunter, it seemed, was an open book to most anything, except for his one serious relationship. And I, of all people, understood wanting to forget past mistakes.
Even though I hated to go, I asked him to drive me home about eleven. He walked me up to my apartment, and we said goodnight at the door with yet another amazing kiss.
“I’ll call you.” He kissed my forehead. I really loved when he did that for some reason.
“I won’t be able to answer most of tomorrow. It’s visiting day. I take Izzy to see her dad, and it’s a four-hour drive each way, plus the actual time while she visits.”
I caught Hunter’s jaw clench, but he nodded and said nothing further on the subject. “I have to fly back to California on Tuesday for a few days to work with a client on some last-minute drafting revisions. Look at your schedule and let me know if you’re free next weekend.”
“Okay.”
I checked in on a sleeping Izzy and took a quick shower. I was too awake to go right to sleep, so after, I sat on my bed, booted up my laptop, and opened my calendar in Google. Next weekend was marked off as Izzy’s monthly visit with her grandmother. She normally went on Friday, and I picked her up on Sunday, unless she had a game early Saturday morning. Then I dropped her after the game. I clicked to my bookmarked favorite sites and opened the athletics schedule for Beacon. Surprisingly, the only game this week was on Thursday evening. There was no Saturday game.
I reached for my phone and texted Hunter, figuring he would probably be home by now.
Natalia: Izzy’s weekend with her grandmother is next weekend.
The dots started to jump around.
Hunter: When do you drop her off?
Natalia: After practice on Friday—usually around seven. Then pick her up on the way to Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner.
Hunter: I’ll pick you up at eight Friday night. Pack a bag. You’re staying the weekend.
My little heart went into a pitter-patter frenzy. Before I could respond, a second text came in.
Hunter: On second thought, bring nothing. You won’t be needing any clothes. I’ll pick you up a toothbrush.
Natalia: LOL. I’ll bring a bag anyway. Just in case there’s a fire and I have to run out of the house.
Hunter: Good thinking. Wouldn’t want any neighbors to see that ass. Because for what’s left of my two-month assignment, it belongs to me.
I smiled like a teenager. I liked the sound of that. A lot. But in the back of my head, a tiny little warning went off.
Just make sure all you give him is your ass, Nat. Not your heart.