by Leanne Davis
“Not now. Today? It’s all about you. Only one story at a time.” She hedged, instantly brushing off the discussion. Hunter guessed that was why she so cherished Asher’s lack of curiosity about her. He always accepted her hedging as a sign not to delve further.
“My fucking story again. One of these days, we’ll have to get over it and do something else.”
“We can’t. It’s our only connection.” She faced forward, smiling snarkily. “Me comforting you and making you feel better. Like a good, little doormat. I make your meals. Stroke your ego. Reassure you she’s a cheating bitch and you are the man. Oh. And I also assist you in reclaiming your underwear.”
He whipped his head around to look at her. “That’s a damn lie.”
She’d been teasing him but his tone was sharp and defensive. “We are friends. Back and forth. We talk about other things. Many times. We enjoy each other’s friendship. There is more to our interactions than me being so pathetic.”
“Hey, it’s okay, I was kidding. We are great friends.”
Finally, Hunter released his scowl. “I’m sorry I snapped, I just don’t want to be a needy, charity case in your eyes, or wonder if you only like me because you feel stuck with me.”
Sighing, she shook her head. “Hunter, you are too likeable for that. Why do you think I came with you across half the state today? Not only was it totally unplanned but I should be working right now and I will pay the price for not being at the ranch. I don’t do that because I pity you. It’s because you’re so much fun to be with and likeable. Not one day with you would I consider pathetic.”
“Okay. Just wanted to clear that up.”
As they made their way to his unoccupied penthouse, Kyomi’s stomach churned. She was hoping there was indeed no one at home they might possibly run into. Glancing at Hunter, she watched his jaw tighten, and his gaze seemed riveted on the elevator doors. Fists clenched, he became unusually silent. She wanted to grab his hand and squeeze his fingers with hers to convey her care about what he must be feeling at this moment. He seemed so remote. Better to be quiet. But she wasn’t the type of person to ignore the obvious.
Trying several openings in her head, she finally settled on, “This has to feel strange to you?”
He nodded, pinning his gaze on the closing doors and rising a floor before he spoke. Relief flooded her to know he wasn’t suddenly silent and mean. His tone sounded confused. “It does. It feels oddly usual, like, here I am home again. On the last trip home, I was so tired and hyped up by a business success, it was a mix of relief to be home and wanting the elevator to hurry. Like now that I was this close to Francine, I had to tell her at that moment. I barely paused when I entered the front door before going to our bedroom. The door was closed. I remember thinking that was odd. I guessed she might feel afraid in the big penthouse alone, as she often expressed. That was why I quite willingly agreed, mind you, to ask Stanley to stay here.”
Far more details than she expected from him. He finally glanced her way, lifting his shoulders as a small smile tugged on his lips. “I thought it was a pretty average homecoming. Tells you my pulse on us, on her, and my life, huh?”
The sadness made his voice crack. Shaking his head as the elevator dinged, stopped and opened, he stepped out first. Staring at his erect back, her stomach twisted with sympathy and something else… what was it? She feared it could be something related to her.
Jealousy? Envy? Longing? What? The way his voice lifted was unconscious and Kyomi knew it was due to the excitement he remembered at seeing his wife on this homecoming. She could hear how much Hunter cared for and was excited to see Francine. His wife.
She never knew Hunter as half a couple or a husband. Sure, she knew he was but she hadn’t interacted with him before. Stepping into his former space where he lived and was married became a full illustration all at once for her. She followed behind him, her heart sinking. She met Hunter in an entirely different environment. In her space. He was an equal since they were in the country together. Here? The abstract villains he spoke of were suddenly right there in living color. Real. Factual. He was Hunter Rydell and he had a wife. He was married. Kyomi acted like he wasn’t married. She treated him like any other single friend she liked to joke and hang out with. Cooking for him was harmless and spending way too much time with him were innocent pastimes.
Weren’t they? She tried hard to convince herself of it. Of course, she was physically attracted to him. She found his masculinity beautiful. But she believed in admiring someone for the facts, not some intertwined feelings.
Trailing him through the quiet, tomb-like hallway, she felt like they left the city and entered the softly lit, exquisite atrium of an art museum.
Hunter opened the ornate double-entry door and went inside without pausing. The top of the building was home to him. Hunter so easily moved about, his life suddenly became so unlike hers. She felt microscopically small and remote here. She was from a place that wasn’t real or lasting for Hunter.
Whether he knew it or not yet, this was permanent for Hunter. What he did with her at Reed Ranch was not permanent. In a year, he’d fondly remember the nice friend who helped fill up his time when he was so hurt and angry. The country girl who distracted him from the aching betrayal. Starkly in that moment, while watching Hunter walk into his entryway, so efficiently and familiarly, she realized the truth. How easily she could see the future.
The worst part was, she clearly saw that she let herself fall for him.
She was not in love. Not the forever kind. But right now? Hunter stole her heart and captured her interest. She was here with him when she should have been working, and only because he asked her. He made her feel things that were new and different. She liked seeing Hunter’s attraction to her, but it went far beyond her looks. He made her feel valued and needed, understood and wanted. Not that Asher didn’t do that. But Hunter had an added edge beyond words or even reason. Perhaps it was the same “thing” that kept Asher so reserved, constantly holding a part of himself back because it was already occupied by Daisy.
Did Hunter feel that way for his wife? Despite his anger at her betrayal and all the negative things he said and felt? His marriage was far from finished. No matter how much he thought it was. He hadn’t begun to deal with his feelings and his private niche in the city. Much less, with Francine.
All this crystalized for Kyomi as she viewed the space that Hunter belonged in.
She came here as his friend. As he asked her to be. She owed him that. He didn’t ask anything else from her but that. So the burden was on her. She could not get upset with him for simply being himself. Not if she took it further than he ever meant for it to go.
“Francine?” His voice rang out. He was checking to see if his wife were there.
No movement or sounds. He nodded and began rubbing his silky strands of hair as he turned to Kyomi and said, “Excellent. The Vulture isn’t here.”
She almost reached forward with a soft pat to soothe him. She knew he didn’t really think that. He hadn’t even begun to work out his feelings for Francine.
In that moment, Kyomi looked around and absorbed the full grandeur of the penthouse floor in the city of Seattle. The space was lit with subtle, designated lighting and low-lines of modern furniture. Black mostly, edged in soft, cool gold that might sound gawdy, but these were done so tastefully, it was like bathing in a glass of champagne.
Moving to another room, he soon came back with a large suitcase and a smaller one. “Okay. Let’s move out.” His tone was surprisingly cheerful.
Kyomi’s feet were sluggish after fully taking in all the opulence, and she finally said, “I’m afraid to take a step.”
He glanced down, looking puzzled at her feet, then back up to her face. “What?”
“The pristine magnificence of this flooring. The carpet. I’m afraid to smudge it. Or take a breath in here.”
Hunter laughed. Then he turned and kicked the edge of the fluffy, luxurious rug. It flipped
up and he kicked it again, making it curl up on itself like a small nest. “These are just things. This is just a place. And it’s mine. So you can ruin half of it. And as for walking politely through as you are? Don’t do that, Kyomi. Don’t think of me as being that different. Or this place being scary. Not to you. You are not the type of woman who gets scared of anything. Don’t start now.”
Heaving a sigh of relief at his unexpected kicking of the rug, Kyomi blinked in surprise and slowly released a long breath of apprehensive tension.
He gave her a wink. “Seriously. It’s all mine. So enjoy it. Break it. I’ll revel in it.”
Nodding, she followed him inside further. He opened the suitcase on the sofa and started grabbing items. Pictures of his family. Personal items. A few coats from a closet. Staring down at his things, he finally sighed. “I suppose it’s time to see about the underwear.”
The bedroom. His jaw ticked as his mouth tightened. She felt terrible for him. “Want me to go first?”
He lifted his head and nodded with a grateful gleam in his eyes. “Yeah. Thank you.”
She walked over to the bedroom and opened the door. It was dark. She clicked the light on and blinked. Unlike the rest of the place, which was so immaculately neat and clean, not even a speck of dust dared to land, this room was destroyed. The bare mattress lacked any sign of a fitted sheet. Blankets were tossed all around it. Clothes were strewn everywhere, dirty and clean without discretion. So many items all over the place, at least triple Kyomi’s entire wardrobe. The shades were shut so it was a concealed disaster.
“Nice,” he sneered. He gingerly stepped over some stuff at first, then he kicked and squished it, heedless of where his feet landed. He put the large suitcase on the floor near the door. There were two giant, walk-in closets and he went into his. He went in and out while tossing clothes into the suitcase. Hunter’s hastiness seemed to be a direct result of seeing the heedlessness and utter mess of the bedroom.
“She couldn’t have tried to make the bed?” he huffed. “Or was she too busy fucking him in it?”
Wisely, Kyomi didn’t answer.
He stopped long enough to nod towards the furniture across the room. “Mind grabbing the things out of that dresser over there?” Grateful for any task, Kyomi nodded and quickly assigned herself to it. Vigorously, she pulled out shirts and casual clothing like jeans. She gently pulled the items free, folding them and setting them neatly into the suitcase.
They worked in peace and quiet. Hunter’s slapping of hangers, and slamming of drawers clearly announced how it was going for him, and what his experience was like. Her choice was to enjoy the quiet.
Then she opened a drawer and found the cherished underwear. The whole reason she was there. They were unlike the underwear of any man she associated with. She couldn’t help laughing. Hard. Pulling one pair out, she held it up to the light.
“You seriously want me to ever look you in the eye again when I know you’ll be wearing these?”
He turned at her words and found his silky, multi-colored underwear dangling before her face. Stomping over, he jerked them from her hand and pulled them towards his body. “These are not supposed to be in that drawer. Or I would not have asked you to dig through them.”
“Oh, no.” Her eyes grew huge. “Are they—” Horrified at the thought she just teased Hunter with his wife’s stepbrother’s underwear, she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Stanley’s?”
Hunter had to release the ugly scowl on his face and he let out a grunt of laughter. “No. Not Stanley’s. They’re mine. I just keep them in my closet as a rule. She must have put them in there while I was gone.”
“Oh, no,” she moaned.
He glanced down. “What? Not the lover’s underwear. That’s a good thing.”
“No. It’s not. It means you wear those.” She pointed at the foppish, ridiculous men’s briefs. “You actually choose to wear them. It means I can never think the same of you again. It means I know now. I know the type of man you are, one who wears pretentious, obnoxious drawers under your impeccably fancy suits. It means—”
To her teasing he rolled up a pair of them and threw them hard at her mouth while she spoke. She laughed, grabbing them mid-air and tossing them back with just as much force.
“Ha. Ha. So I like a nice pair of underpants against my skin. Better than your one hundred percent cotton, six for the price of one, bargain basement—”
“You wish you knew the first thing about my panties.” She stood up, sharply tossing his underwear at him again as Hunter tried to tag her back. They separated to try to avoid each other and then advanced to throw their pitches. She grabbed more until she had her own arsenal that he could only collect after she threw them.
On and on they mocked and teased each other. The offensive bedroom ceased to bother either one until he dove and caught her, throwing her to the floor and shoving the—albeit clean underwear—right into her face like a handful of snow. She spat it out and laughed while pretending it was dirty underwear being rubbed in her face.
“Gross. Stop it, you disgusting man. Where is your class? What happened to your manners? How can you be such a heathen?” She was laughing so hard her chest hurt and she started to cough. Hunter mercifully relented and slipped to the side of her body. Laughing just as hard as she was, he too was gasping and choking.
Slowly, her breath returned and Hunter glanced down at her, while leaning on his hand. “How do you do that?”
Puzzled, she smiled at him. “Do what?”
“Make me laugh. And forget for a few moments I’m suppressing my rage in my throat right now. Even though I sit in the same place where I witnessed my wife lying naked beneath another man… I’m laughing. Freaking full-on cackling. And it doesn’t hurt so damn much anymore. How do you do that?”
Her smile slipped as he stared down at her. “Easily. I found your silly, stupid, expensive underwear.”
He smiled but kept staring into her eyes. It was like they were invisibly connected and their eyes could not be separated from the other. Her heart started beating harder and strange sensations that were new and big and confusing rushed through her. What? What was this? His gaze seemed to zero in on her face and a strange tenderness filled it. Something she could not explain and never expected to be directed at her. “They aren’t stupid and they aren’t for girls,” he said, his words not matching the strange intensity of his gaze on her. “My underwear are awesome.”
He leaned forward slightly and her entire body jerked. No. He should not do that. Why did he do that? Their smiling, laughing expressions started to fade and she felt like she was mimicking his and vice versa. Who goes from laughing and having fun and teasing and being humorous to suddenly becoming so intensely serious?
“You have a knack.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“Of what? Being classless?”
“Being exactly what I need.”
Her breath caught, her heart stopped and her entire body froze. Wow. Those words. Intoxicating. Magical. They literally had an enchanting effect on her. Her entire body tingled and pumped with happiness so good and new that she never experienced before. It was too much. Too intense. No one could resist how good, great, and fantastic she felt.
She licked her lips and the anticipation flooded her while staring up at him. Her brain clouded with a fuzziness that was thick and potent. He inched forward again. It was a small movement that seemed like he moved a mile. It was so telling. So much. Her brain screamed, “Move. Get up. Away. Now.”
Her heart yelled, “Move closer. To me. Please… oh, please…”
His deep blue eyes stared into hers. Hard. Drilling. Piercing. There was no embarrassment. No looking away. Hunter Rydell was studying her face, and her soul received it with the full, intense clarity of a searchlight on a prisoner. She was trapped there, his willing captive. Yes, she wanted to be there with all of her heart. It was now tapping furiously in her chest.
A rhythm that pounded out her desire. Ne
ed. Impatience.
His gaze flickered down to her mouth and zeroed in on it. He closed the space next to her. Again. She could push on his chest. Or his face. Or simply turn her head to the side to stop anything she might not want.
Her head could not articulate the thoughts of what that might be. But her heart knew. The words were clearly engraved on it. But if she claimed the words, she’d have to stop him. She’d have to take responsibility for what she truly wanted. And the knowledge of right and wrong.
His gaze stayed on her mouth as he slipped over her and dipped his head down, until finally…
There he was. She sighed deeply when his lips touched hers. It was sheer perfection. The moment she lived for, the moment she’d die remembering. Right or wrong in that split-second, Kyomi did not care.
His lips touched hers and her eyelids drifted shut as if a sensuous string pulled them closed. Then his mouth tightened on hers, and a lovely taste, reminiscent of honey in texture and flavor, tantalized her tongue. Her hands caressed the soft, crazy-shiny strands of his hair. His hand came up and cradled the base of her head as he slipped his fingertips along her scalp, tugging the hair strands. It caused prickles to develop over her entire body. It was soft, tender and sensuous, as were his lips on hers. She lifted her neck and strained towards him. Wanting more. So much more. His lips moved over hers, his tongue touched hers with a soft drop of moisture. She groaned at the contact. Then his mouth opened and so easily she let his tongue own hers. They both moaned in tandem at the tongue-to-tongue contact. Teeth clacking, their lips devouring each other’s, she leaned closer to him as he pushed down on her.
On and on they kissed. His hand twisted in her hair and she pulled on his neck to hold him there as well as draw him closer. The heat between them ignited. There was no slow build-up, but an explosion. A chorus of gasps and sighs flipped back and forth, and their lips stayed sealed as their tongues kept grazing.
Her body went limp and burned like fire. His hand drifted down the side of her, touching the curve of her torso, her waist, her thigh, and coming back up. A trail of heat followed wherever he touched, and his mouth parted from hers so he could pepper kisses on her cheek, the side of her face, and down to her chin. Her eyelids fluttered open and she glimpsed the coppery brightness of his hair. It shone like a ray of sunlight. She could make out the contour of his forehead and the slits of his half-shut eyes.
