“Because you know!” I shout and raise my head. My foot twitches as I hold back the desire to stomp like a damned school girl. “I can’t stand it. Knowing that you know it all. I wanted to forget…” A sob bubbles out my mouth and I can’t hold it back. I sag against the wall, held up now by both his hands on my arms. “I want to forget,” I whisper.
Tremors wrack me and the tears I’ve been holding back escape. I probably could have coped if it had been anyone else. I’d move on—again—find another shitty job and try to pick up the pieces. It would mean starting over but I’d do that if it meant leaving behind the recrimination.
Hunter’s hands leave my arms and I close my eyes, wait for him to leave. But I don’t hear any footsteps. Instead, there’s warmth and solid muscle pressing against me. A hand sneaks behind my head, cups the back of my neck while the other smoothes over my cheek.
“Shh,” he murmurs in my ear as he removes his hand, places it on my hip and brings his face to the side of mine.
Bristle skims my jaw and I immediately soften into him. I sniffle, hating the dampness on my cheeks. I don’t normally cry. It’s not me. What’s the point in crying when it doesn’t help? But in some weird way if feels good to have Hunter holding me. My forehead presses against his chest and his T-shit absorbs some of my tears. I swallow the ache in my throat and force my breaths to slow, drawing them in through my nose.
At some point, I become very aware of his body flattened against mine. Very aware. My nipples peak against those hard planes and I find my fingernails digging into his biceps. Tears dry up and heat fills my body. The hand on my neck keeps rubbing, one rough thumb sweeping up and down the arch of my neck. I’m so sensitive there it sends tingles straight through me, raising the hair on my arms.
Forehead still against his chest, my breath hitches when the palm on my hip curves around to hold my ass. More hardness greets me, the thick length of him must be straining against his jeans. I’m sure, even through all the layers, I can feel the heat of him. Longing gathers between my thighs. All sense has deserted me. There’s only skin and heat and lust.
There’s only Hunter.
“Jess.”
My name on his lips, raw yet tender forces me to lift my head. His blue gaze pierces me. An arrow to the heart. I swear I feel it, deep down in my chest or maybe in the twisting of my stomach.
He does it again. “Jess.”
Shit. Clutching onto him as if he might escape at any moment, I wait for him to lower his lips to mine. His gaze remains on me, so intense I can hardly breathe. Warm lips touch mine—a light, tickling touch that has me almost writhing in anticipation. His mouth parts and I follow suit. We share a breath, hold ourselves there for a moment. I can scarcely suck in air as the scent of his cologne surrounds me and his jeans brush against my legs.
Something snaps. Maybe inside me, perhaps inside him, I’m not sure, and he covers my mouth fully, instantly thrusting his tongue inside. I make a noise, a sound of desperation, and clutch his head, almost terrified he’ll leave me. My entire body pulses with need and I bring my leg up to latch it around the back of his knee, moaning when the hard fabric of his fly presses against my sensitive flesh.
The hand in my hair tugs, bunching it in his fist. It’s not painful, it electrifies me, sending all my nerve endings tingling. I’m aware of every part of me, yet it’s all a blur. The cold press of the wall, the sound of people banging doors and chattering in the stairwell below us, all fades. Heavy breaths, rasping fabric and heated touches dominate my world now.
Hunter’s fingers slip under the hem of my top at the same time as he thrusts his tongue in my mouth again, kissing me greedily. It’s strange to witness him so out of control, yet insanely exciting. I’m the one making him like this. It’s a heady sensation, so much power. When have I ever held power over a man? My life started out dictated by men’s needs and I’ve lived forever in fear of that. But Hunter doesn’t make me feel like that. He makes me feel wanted and treasured. Lusted after but appreciated.
“Jessie,” he groans against my mouth. “Jessie,” he repeats, “we can’t do this here.”
Suddenly the coldness of the wall on my back registers and sends a chill through me. I tear my mouth away, unhook my leg and shove at his chest. It doesn’t do much good. His hand remains in my hair, holding me in place.
“Shit.” I try to push once more but he refuses to move. “Hunter, let me go,” I plead.
What was I thinking? Well, I wasn’t. Hunter does that to me. If I’d been thinking at all, I wouldn’t have even let him into my world. Now I’ve got to rip up my life and move on again. I shouldn’t be kissing him. I should be leaving him way behind along with my sordid past.
Prickly heat fills my skin again as the humiliation of long buried memories taunt me. My ex finding out. Our friends jeering and looking at me as if I was diseased. Questioning if I really was diseased. I lost all my friends when the truth came out because who wants to be friends with a porn star? Who wants to know someone you can Google and watch being fucked by strange men?
Who wants to date one?
No one. That’s who.