On The Rocks

John and Sasha both gave us smiles. John’s genuine as he softly said, “Goodnight,” and Sasha’s accommodating.

When we were in the privacy of Hunter’s bedroom, he wasted no time in peeling my clothes off. As my shirt came over my head and his hands worked at my bra strap, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay about not getting that bid with Coursier?”

As often seems to happen around Hunter lately, my heart just melted over his continued concern. “Yes, baby. I’m fine. It’s not the end of the world for me.”

“Okay,” he said as he nuzzled my neck. “Just wanted to make sure.”

We were silent after that as we both helped the other undress, softly kissing and stroking in between broken breaths and whispered sighs. Hunter made love to me last night, so very slowly, the only measure of our excitement was the quickening of our breaths as he moved leisurely in and out of me. Our hands were clasped together tight and, when he wasn’t kissing me, he was looking down at me with love and tenderness. We came together and it was shattering, even as it was quiet.

And then Hunter was pulling me into his arms to go to sleep, as I murmured to him that I loved him.

Smiling, I realize that my thoughts didn’t cause me to drift back to sleep. Rather, I’m wide awake. Just thinking about Hunter excites me, and I’m not talking sexually, although last night was blistering hot in a sweet way. But I’m talking about excited as in I hate to spend a single moment away from him. I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now, and even though I got smacked down by Henry Coursier yesterday, I feel like I can pretty much accomplish anything I set my mind to.

Throwing the covers back, I roll out of bed and pull on my jeans and a t-shirt. I can hear the murmuring of voices from the kitchen and assume Hunter’s talking to his early morning visitor.

When I open the bedroom door, the voices filter in clear and I realize it’s Brody in the kitchen. His words stop me in my tracks. “You need to do this, Hunter.”

I hear Hunter sigh and can actually envision him raking his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man. I thought I had it figured out.”

“Well, just so there’s no hesitation on your part as relates to the bar, I’ve got your back. I’ll handle it while you’re gone and gladly hand it back over to you when you get back. Whenever that may be.”

My breath freezes, and I realize they’re talking about Hunter leaving for the Tour. I immediately consider heading back to the bedroom, because I’m so eavesdropping right now, and I have no clue if this is a private conversation. I’m hesitant to walk into the kitchen, because let’s face it… Brody isn’t the most loquacious person in the world, and I don’t want to impede upon him finally talking straight to his brother.

So I hang in limbo, hiding in the hallway, and listening in on their talk.

“Thanks, Brody. That means a lot.”

“So when will you leave?”

“If I accept, probably within a week.”

“What do you mean ‘if I accept’? Isn’t this a done deal?”

“Fuck no,” Hunter says in exasperation. “I’m just not sure.”

“Something wrong with the offer?”

“No.”

“Something wrong with your ability to surf?”

“Of course not.”

“Something wrong with me watching Last Call while you’re gone?”

“You know there’s not,” Hunter growls.

“Then it’s Gabby,” Brody says emphatically.

“Keep your voice down,” Hunter hisses. “She’s in the bedroom sleeping, and of course it’s Gabby.”

My heart starts pounding as I realize that Hunter is very much factoring me into the equation as to whether or not he stays or goes. A rush of feelings plow through me from extreme love that he cares for me enough to walk away from fame and glory, to sickness over the fact he might actually walk away from fame and glory for me.