“My name’s Kelly, not sweetheart. Here’s your coffee,” I said firmly, as I placed the coffee down, trying not to give this guy anything else to work with.
But the harder I fought, the more I felt it. That power he had over me, the feeling he gave me in the pit of my stomach, just by his mere presence. What was happening? Why was I letting him get under my skin? I hadn’t even allowed myself to look at his face yet. I slowly let my eyes rise from the cup of coffee on the counter, to see his hard chest and broad shoulders, hugged by a white tank top stained from a morning’s work. The shirt wrapped the body so tightly I could see every angle and ridge underneath, and I found myself wishing I could run my fingers over them and take them in with my touch. I snapped back to reality quickly enough to gather myself and keep my feet on the ground.
Get a hold of yourself, Kelly. What are you, fourteen?
Almost as if he sensed my new found grip on myself, the man stood up. It was as if he wanted to show me just how much his body dwarfed mine. As if he was reminding me that he could knock me off balance at any time. My eyes shot back to the countertop and it was all I could do to keep them there and not look up.
And then, a rippling, tattooed arm reached out to shake my hand. I wanted to back away from it. I could smell the mix of sweat, cigarettes, and oil that poured out of him and washed over me. I felt my knees start to shake and my stomach flutter. What was this? Was I getting sick?
“I’m only clowning you, Kelly. You’re wound pretty tight, hey?”
My glance rose further and I finally saw the man standing in front of me in all his glory. His overalls slung down covering his lower half. His stained tank top clung to abs and a chest that didn’t have one angle out of place. Intricate tattoos covered every inch of skin I could see on his arms. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and something inside me clenched. When I took his hand, it was as if he passed some sort of electric current from his body into mine. It shot through my arms and into my entire body. My head felt light and I only hoped I wasn’t blushing.
As my eyes rose again, I saw his strong jaw and the thin layer of rough hair that covered it. I knew I had to meet his eyes with mine, but part of me felt so weakened by his touch that I didn’t know if I could do it. I felt powerless. When I finally lifted my gaze, everything I was feeling seemed to explode, bringing a rush of heat that swept over my whole body. Every sense I had fired at the same time and I was motionless. His eyes were bluer than anything I had ever seen and had an intensity behind them that made my thighs quiver in anticipation. Of what, I didn’t know, but I wanted it.
As his rough hand swallowed mine, he stared into me as if he knew every flurry of excitement, every tingle of nervousness, that was passing through me. It was as if he could sense the strange dance of fear and anticipation that was building up inside me, beyond my control. I didn’t care. I’d spent too long being in control of myself. I’d spent too long being the perfect girl for everyone else. This was something different, something strange and new, and I didn’t want it to end. Still holding my hand inside his, his gaze sending a shockwave through me, he spoke as if I was the only person in the room. No, the only person in the whole world.
“My apologies, honey. I’m Hunter.”
Chapter 3
Hunter
THE TROUBLE WITH LAYING LOW is that you have to blend in like you’re just any other clown in whatever nothing town you’re in. Maybe that’s just how some people are and that’s why it looks so easy, but it’s not me. I don’t look for attention, I just get it. I tried to make small talk with this chick while Denny threw back his breakfast and now somehow I was stuck offering her my hand and saying I’m sorry because she can’t take a joke. Like I’m some kind of chump. Thing is, I have to be some kind of chump if I have any chance of fitting in here, or anywhere, but it is fucking eating me. Broads. So damn sensitive. Especially the pretty ones.
When she finally looked up and took my hand, I realized she wasn’t just pretty, she was fucking beautiful. Her hair fell across her face as she raised her head and when she brushed it aside, her puppy dog eyes hit mine like headlights on a highway. I was drawn in, even though I knew I should look away. They were practically begging me to fuck her, right there. When she smiled back at me, I could feel my cock start to swell in my pants and it was all I could do not to picture her soft, supple lips wrapped around it.
Easy, fella. Keep it under control here or you’ll frighten these nice people.
“Pleased to meet you, Hunter,” she cooed.