“But I wasn’t a kid.” Biting my lower lip, I glance away. “I knew that what he was doing was wrong, but I felt guilty for wanting to leave. I thought I was giving up on him because he was suffering from PTSD. I thought I could change him, that somehow my love would change him, that somehow we could work through our problems. That it was okay when he got rough with me because he was jealous. He was always jealous, you know? Always accusing me of doing the things he did.” I’m rambling, not making any sense at all. “His family has more money than they can ever spend and when they cut him off, he stole every bit of mine to pay for hookers and drugs and gambling. I guess I should be happy he had stopped sleeping with me by then. Thanks, Penn, for not giving me an STD.”
A hollow laugh escapes me, and I look up at the ceiling to prevent the tears in my eyes from falling, but it does no good. They streak down my cheeks, dripping on my arms in hot splashes. “I am so messed up. What kind of idiot is happy over that? What kind of woman believes she can change a man who willingly hurts her?”
“A woman who is in love. A woman who was taught to believe the best in people, who doesn’t walk away at the first sign of trouble.” He exhales. “Don’t punish yourself for being a good person, angel.”
“I didn’t have to punish me.” But I’m lying. Yes, Penn hurt me, but I’ve hurt myself, too. I know that victim-blaming, even when I’m the one blaming myself, is wrong. Unfortunately, my former therapist said it will take a while for my thinking to change, possibly a situation that will force me to change my thinking.
I’m not looking forward to that at all.
“Evangeline, you can lie to yourself all you want, but don’t do it with me.”
“Why? Why is this…Why am I so important to you?” I shouldn’t ask him this, but I have to know.
“Because I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the first time I saw you.”
I make a face.
He caresses my cheek before wiping away my tears with the hem of his soft T-shirt. “Not what you’re thinking. I’ve helped countless women, but none of them ever got to me like you. Not a single damn time.”
“Until me?”
“Until you,” he agrees. “You managed to do what no one else ever has.”
“I find it really hard to believe you didn’t date before me,” I say, then want to smack my hand over my mouth. “Not that we’re dating. Yes, this is a date because of food and stuff, but I didn’t mean to imply…”
“Hush.”
“Did you just shush me?”
“It’s a date, angel. Like it or not, you invited me over for dinner and a movie. That’s a fucking date and you know it.” He sounds grumpy, even a bit growly as he says this.
“And I’m in your lap.” I wriggle against him and he lifts an eyebrow.
“That you are.”
“And you’re doing absolutely nothing about it.” I swear his eyebrow goes into The Rock territory, but I can’t help going down this path. I waited to have sex until I was in love and look where that got me. Maybe I should try to have sex without love.
“What would you like for me to do, angel?” he says in that gravelly voice I love. No, not love…I like it. Only like it.
“See to my needs?”
He nods slowly, then leans over me and comes back with my plate. “Open.”
“You’re going to feed me?”
“I’m starving. You’re starving.”
My shoulders droop a little. “Oh.”
“And you’ll need this fuel to keep up with all I have planned for you tonight.” He smirks a little at me.
Grabbing a slice from him, I start to chow down on it, slinging white wine sauce on his cheek. “Ack! I’m so sorry.”
I go to wipe it off, but he grabs my wrist instead. “Use your tongue.”
Heat passes through me at first, then begins to travel down my spine as I lean in close. “Like this?” I sweep my tongue across his cheek, licking up the sauce as his five o’clock shadow tickles.
“Like that.” He turns his head, capturing my tongue with his mouth, and sucks it in. I forget all about the pizza, all about our conversation, and any resistance I’ve had until this point melts away.
I hear my plate crash to the floor. Hunter murmurs something about cleaning it up later, but I don’t care about the mess. I search for his mouth again and he gives it to me, cupping the back of my neck as he presses his lips to mine. He devours me as his other hand roams my body, finding one of my breasts and squeezing.
Moaning into his mouth, I arch into his hand even more. He responds with a low chuckle and lets go. Before I can protest, his hand is up my shirt, skimming my overheated skin until it comes in contact with my bra. His fingers curl, pulling at the lace cup until I hear it rip. Then he’s pushing me down on the sofa, his big body covering mine as our kisses go on and on.
I’m barely coherent as he strips away my clothes, as he kisses my fears away and ignites liquid fire in my veins. His mouth is searching, seeking, and finding the most sensitive parts of me. My neck, my tight nipples, and the inside of my thighs, but he doesn’t go to where I ache for him the most. Instead he teases me, turning me over and kissing the backs of my knees and licking a path to my bottom.
Nipping at me, he grabs my hips and pulls me up to him, whispering that he’s so hard for me, that he’s going to take care of me, and that I’ll want him in my bed, pleasuring me every night.