“Was it ‘who still goes to the library?’”
“No. It was… ‘I wish I could get a girl like that.’”
Leaning forward, I meet him halfway before our lips meet. “And somehow you got a girl like that.”
When he sits back again, he’s wearing another serious expression. “Because I changed.”
“No,” I argue. “Because I love you unconditionally.”
He fidgets with the sleeves of his shirt, tugging them down as a habit to hide his tattoos. They crawl all the way up his arm from his wrist to his neckline. My husband seems to think that making certain choices from sixteen to twenty-three makes him undeserving of love. And I see the self-consciousness.
When I met him, I was a doe-eyed seventeen-year-old virgin. He was a twenty-three-year-old tattoo-covered criminal who did what he had to, to survive. We came from two different sides of town, two different worlds, two different paths. But those paths became one, and although our histories were different, our futures were the same.
Suddenly, Hunter was everywhere I turned. Afraid he would scare me, it took him months to gather up the courage to even talk to me. He figured out pretty fast that I could be found at the public library at least three days a week. And when he finally did approach me, he was so nervous, I could see him trembling. It was adorable.
But Hunter never scared me. Even with the tattoos and the reputation, there was a soft kindness in his eyes. The truth was…I saw him long before he saw me.
Ironically, I always told myself—I could never get a guy like him.
“I love you,” I mumble softly as I rest my elbow on the table, placing my chin in my hand like a lovestruck teenager. In some ways, I guess I still am.
He smiles, those bright white teeth making my insides turn all gooey and hot. Why does he have to be so handsome? So charming and fun to look at.
“I love you too, Red.”
My cheeks blush, and I know my neck and chest are brighter than my hair. “Hunter…” I say in a low whisper as my foot rubs softly against his leg.
His spine straightens and his head tilts, giving me that lust-filled gaze.
“Let’s go back to the rental now.”
“Check, please,” he calls to the waiter, and I’m smiling so hard, it hurts my cheeks.
We both hear the moaning before the front door even opens. It’s just a small two-bedroom condo in downtown Phoenix, near the club we’re touring tomorrow night. It was the smartest option since there are three of us. Instead of getting two hotel rooms, for the same price, we could just rent a small place.
But as I set my purse down and hear what sounds like a woman in the throes of a very intense orgasm, I’m starting to reconsider our options.
“Cancel the rest of our reservations,” I joke.
“Jesus…I’m sorry.”
I laugh. “Hunter…stop apologizing. You own a sex club. Do you really think this even affects me anymore?”
He corners me against the counter, placing both hands on either side of me, blocking me in. “Are you sure it doesn’t affect you at all? Not even a little bit?” His lips land gently against the skin of my neck, just under my ear, and I hum in response. He knows all of my weak spots.
“Okay…maybe it does…a little.”
His hands wind their way around my waist as he squeezes me closer. Pressing his mouth against my ear, he mutters darkly, “Should we give them a little stiff competition?”
“Oh, baby. You know I can do way better than her.”
At that moment, another female voice whimpers in the next room, and Hunter pulls back as we stare at each other wide-eyed.
“Them,” I correct myself.
With that, Hunter hoists me over his shoulder and carries me squealing into our bedroom. As he slams the door closed behind us, the moaning and groaning in the next room is suddenly louder. I guess we share a wall…wonderful.
Quick to distract me, Hunter drops me onto the bed and yanks me to the edge. My legs quickly wrap around his waist as he pulls his jacket off and then starts unbuttoning his shirt while I watch.
Licking my lips, I feast on the sight of my husband slipping the white cotton from his shoulders, revealing black, white, and red ink covering his skin like a second suit. Then, with a rough jerk, he yanks my dress up to my waist and tears down my panties.
Growling, he drops to his knees and nibbles his way up the insides of my thighs. I’m squirming with anticipation by the time he reaches my center, lapping and licking in fierce strokes as I moan loudly.