Prince Hunter: A Prince of Tease Novel (Princes of Tease Book 2)

by Xavier Neal

  Is it just me or does he get even sexier every time he fires? Honestly, I could probably sit here all evening watching his taut muscles flex.

  Now finished himself, he lowers the weapon back to the case, and turns around with a proud expression. “So, Sugar? What do you think?”

  “Almost as sexy as watching you handle your other big gun.”

  The comment shakes his gorgeous frame in laughter.

  Kinda love hearing that sound. It's never fake. I appreciate that.

  “You wanna go another round?”

  “No, I'm good. Tried something fun and different for the day. Counting it as a win, but you can keep shooting if you want. I don't mind hanging out and watching.”

  He lifts his eyebrows. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug. “I like the way your ass tightens right before you pull the trigger.”

  Another chuckle is out of him before he insists, “Just a few more. Won't keep you here too much longer.”

  Hunter reloads and repeats the previous actions. I quietly watch, impressed with his love affair and intrigued at the same time.

  For a man so unwilling to divulge huge hunks of his past, the pieces he does deliver are fascinating. He's got all this information on shit I would never think could be interesting in a million years, yet it is. Between the conversations about the best types of beef and where to find them in the city and the importance of properly caring for anything that has a Stetson label, I'm beginning to see a hint of the country life that gives him the accent I love so much.

  After the two of us return my rented weapon, he carefully loads his in the trunk before helping me into the front seat.

  Instinctively, I begin to mess with the radio as soon as I'm buckled. Scrolling down through his Spotfiy playlist, I tease, “Is there only country music on here? Is that why we always listen to the radio?”

  Hunter pulls on the main road. “No. We always listen to the radio because you insist that we do. You're the one addicted to Justin Beaver or whatever.”

  “Bieber,” I correct him, though he rolls his eyes. “And not addicted. He just makes catchy music.”

  “Catchy like a venereal disease,” he mutters and merges onto the highway.

  Relieved to be headed back towards civilization and away from the seclusion of the shooting range, I crack the windows to soak in the sounds of the busy road.

  Hunter grabs a glimpse of me. “Need fresh air?”

  “Need fresh noise,” I whisper. Instead of letting me question the remark, I hit the random button on his playlist, pleasantly surprised by the beat coming through the speakers. “Oh...I like this. This sounds like it could be fun!”

  A smile slips on his face. “It's Luke Bryan.”

  “Country Girl,” my addition makes his grin grow. “I can read, you know.”

  He offers a hand in surrender.

  Bouncing around to the beat brings a chortle out of him. All of sudden he starts to sing along, which simply makes me move around even more. Our own little private concert in the car has us both laughing and lost in the energy of the moment.

  At the end of the song he says, “One of my favorite song to dance to for work.”

  “Yeah?” I rest my back against the seat as I grab my vibrating phone from the cup holder. “You get to pick the songs?”

  “With a little help.”

  The first real information about his mysterious stripping career tangles around an unfamiliar emotion.

  First his country side, now his city side. Feels like he's trying to tie down some roots like we're....like we're....dating. No. We're just hanging out. Having sex, going to dinner, and once in a while something else. He can't get attached to me. I don't do that. I don't want that. Well, no I'm not ready for him to go away either, but that doesn't mean I'm attached to him. You're trying to twist my words. Shame on you.

  I divert my attention to the text waiting for me.

  Mal: MIL is driving me insane. Need a drink. You in?

  “What do you wanna do for dinner?” Hunter asks just as the city skyline faintly begins to become visible. “I've got chicken in the fridge I can grill.”

  Something stings inside. “Did we....did we make dinner plans?”

  “No, I jus' assumed-”

  “Well don't do that,” I snap. “Just because we hung out, doesn't mean we're definitely doing dinner together.”

  “I jus' figured since we were already hangin' out-”

  Adjusting in my seat, I begin to reply to her. “Well I'm gonna go to dinner with Mal.”

  Hunter leans against his door and keeps his eyes planted forward. “My mistake.”

  It is his mistake. I don't like plans made for me any more than I like to make them for myself. Add that to the shit I don't like about relationships, not saying we're in one, but it's something couples do. They make plans for the other person without considering they would like a life outside of the relationship. No. I'm an independent, free planning person who is happiest that way. The sooner he gets a good grip on that the better for the both of us.

  Hunter

  “Why the hell is it everything you pick for us to do is so far off the ground?” I question over the engine of the plane.

  She brightly smiles. “How else would you ever touch the clouds?”

  I attempt to return the gesture.

  Look, I'm not afraid of heights. Jus' don't feel I need to jump out of a perfectly good airplane to prove it. Is that a heartbeat in my throat?

  “You don't have to do this,” she declares as the instructor prepares to open the door. “I'll never make you do anything you don't want to.”

  Just hearing that as a two way street lifts a few minor concerns.

  “You'll jus' tell everyone I chickened out?”

  “Well...yeah,” Rory teases and sticks her tongue out.

  This has been the oddest month of my life. Between jumping off cliffs and now out of planes, I've also tried gator, chocolate covered ants, and been to a licorice bar, which was similar to a trendy hookah bar except instead of sharing hits of tobacco we were tossing back infused candy. Girl doesn't care for alcohol, but that shit she couldn't get enough of. Hell, it got us both tipsy and publicly making out in no time. The extent of 'normal shit' we do is the occasional dinner at my penthouse. While I'm willing to say I appreciate the exciting change of lifestyle, I definitely need to introduce her to the calmer side of livin'. She has a hard time believin' it's enjoyable, but I think I can sway her mind. Hopefully. She's more stubborn than a mule leavin' the barn for the first time. Everything has gotta be her choice. I'm a patient man, but I'll tell you what...my patience is becoming harder to grip when practically everything we do is one sided.

  The instructor closest to the door yells out, “You two ready?”

  Rory shouts at me, “It's now or never, Cowboy.”

  I give my goggles one final adjustment and nod.

  The instructor gives us a small smile and then the signal. Without the slightest bit of hesitation she leaps out with him like a bird being set free. An odd instinct to follow her more so for protection than enjoyment causing me to jump out the minute my instructor is ready. While the burst of wind in the face is sharp, the sight of her blissfully falling with an orgasmic expression distracts from anxiety, pain, and fear.

  Doesn't she look beautiful? Is it wrong to be pissed off some other guy is so close to her while she's making that face?

  Any remaining trepidation is quickly replaced by a rush of adrenaline and ataraxia as I'm shifted to a celestial experience. For the first few breaths, I shut my eyes and enjoy the surprising exhilaration. All of a sudden, there's a bump against my hand. My eyes shoot open to see Rory's bright, smiling face. We lock hands and eyes, which is when the foreign feeling secures itself in place.

  Love seems a little fast, but Granddaddy always said when you knew you knew. He also said the same thing about good whiskey and to this day I've never drank whiskey I truly enjoyed so much as tolerated. But some
thin' about bein' with Rory fills the hole I've spent the last few years tryin' to. Ah hell. I sound like a chick.

  Our instructors pull us apart with no warning. Rory and her instructor go first, linking and jerking upward as their parachute expands. We follow the process, the glide down towards the ground target more calming than thrilling.

  I'm more than okay with this part.

  After properly landing, shedding the equipment, and thanking the instructors for returning us safely, Rory drives the two of us to a burger joint a few minutes down the road.

  Once we've received our food, we settle at an outside table, the warm sun beaming down on us.

  Nothing like a warm fall afternoon.

  Rory doesn't waste a moment shoving a thin fry into her mouth. “Mmmm....Gonna call this place a win.”

  I lift an eyebrow in confusion. “You've never eaten here before?”

  “Nope.” She grabs another one. “Always smelled amazing when I drove by, so I figured we could try it today. First time jumping out of a plane. First time eating here.”

  “What do you mean when you drove by? This is a bit out of the way from work.”

  “My parents loved long car trips, so whenever we went to visit my dad's parents, we would take this road. We drove past this place a million times but never stopped. They always promised we would, but managed to forget or come up with some shitty excuse not to. Geez, I remember the way the smell of onion rings used to fill the air.” Rory pauses with a nostalgic smile. “Speaking of...” She snatches one off my plate and has a large bite. Her eyes fall shut as she nods, “Oh yeah....even better than they smell.”

  I smile at the look of content.

  This is Rory. Always happy. I have yet to see her anything outside of complacent. It's refreshin'. Nothin' seems to bother her longer than the time it takes for her to find something else to make her smile. Traffic jams? Finds a comedy radio station to enjoy. Long lines? Turns it into a photo shoot moment. Work frustrations? Well, she never seems to have any, which I guess is possible since the dead don't argue back. The only time I ever see her joyful exterior falter is when the subject of family is brought up. However, like everything else that doesn't please her, she finds a way to shift the conversation to somethin' that does. Helluva a technique, but does complicate me learnin' more about her than her fondness for candy versus chocolate.

  I take a chance and say, “You um...you mentioned your parents died in a car crash?”

  “My father,” she cautiously corrects. “My mother died after being on life support in the hospital for a week.”

  “That had to be hard,” I gently comment unsure of how lightly to continue to tread.

  Rory tilts her head towards the road. “That was the road.”

  Holy hell.

  The unexpected information shifts me in my seat.

  “First time I've been on it since,” she says and lifts her burger to take a bite.

  Gratitude and somberness grip each of my shoulders. “Why'd we take it today?”

  “Only way to get to the sky diving place,” she innocently giggles.

  In awe of her ability to smile through the pain I assume she's feeling I offer, “Anything you um...you wanna tell me about 'em?”

  “No.”

  Not sure she could've answered any faster. But at least that's somethin' right?

  I surrender my hands and have a bite of the burger. Instantly I groan, which makes her bright smirk return. “Holy hell, that's good.”

  “Right?” She snatches another onion ring this time dipping it in the secret sauce they served with the order. “Growing up, I used to have to sneak having hamburgers.”

  Confusion covers me. “What?”

  “Yeah! After my parents died, my grandfather finished raising me. He hated anything he thought would cut your lifespan even shorter. Called red meat the silent killer. Refused to serve it. Then Mal's mother has always been on a 'new and trendy diet' since I can remember, so they rarely ever had it in their house either. Not that I spent a shit ton of time over there or anything. Then, I was convinced the food in the cafeteria could kill me after some rumors about how it was making a bunch of kids sick, so I never got it from there. It wasn't until Mal started driving that I finally got to have a hamburger again. It was actually the first thing I made her stop for when she got her license. Oh! And when I got mine? I would sneak out in the middle of the night to have one.”

  “That's insane.” I swallow a bite. “I was born and bred on beef.”

  Born and bred to be the beef lovin' son of a billionaire rancher. Wait. Shit. I didn't say that. You...you didn't hear that. No. I have no intention on discussin' that. I've still got a couple months to decide on a life-long commitment. Hell, it feels like I'm decidin' whether to marry the damn product.

  She gives my foot a playful nudge. “Mentioned it before, but damn you were lucky.”

  “Never considered that luck before this moment.” After another bite, I ask, “When did your parents pass away?”

  “I was eight.” Rory shifts topics as predicted. “So, what'd you think about sky diving?”

  With a teasing shrug, I sigh, “I lived.”

  Her chuckle makes me grin with her.

  It's always so full of life. Hard to resist.

  “Was it really that bad?”

  I shake my head. “Nah. Once you get passed the fear of possibly fallin' to your death, it's kinda freein'.”

  “I love that feeling,” Rory sighs and leans forward. “The one free one. Being cooped up for a decade and having all your decisions made for you out of fear of the inevitable made an impact. Definitely opposite of the way it was intended.”

  “Your grandfather was tryin' to protect you?”

  “He was afraid of losing me the way he lost his wife and my mother. His fear pushed me for a need of freedom. Of all kinds.”

  In a quiet voice I admit, “I know the feelin'. Havin' your whole life planned for you without your consent. Decisions made. Choices taken. I get the desire for freedom. Believe me.”

  We're not jus' talking about a place at the head of an empire or how to rule it. We're also not jus' talkin' 'bout family in my case. You'd be surprised what some people's desperation to be a part of a legacy will drive them to do.

  She gives me a curious look. “That's the real reason why you came to the city.”

  “Yeah.”

  My phone unexpectedly vibrates in my pocket though I'm thankful for the conversation interruption.

  I unlock the screen to see the message.

  Sam: Can't take much more of this bullshit. You might not have a brother by the time you come home.

  A pang pumps harshly in my chest.

  Wonder what's givin' him hell today. Ya know, I've seen what the stress of workin' for the family does to him and let's just say it's not exactly the kind that has me runnin' to sign up for.

  Clearing away the tension tightening my throat, I slide my phone beside me and offer, “Another onion ring?”

  Rory shakes her head slowly, the desire for more information on the previous subject dancing in her eyes.

  Not now. Not today. No need to ruin what's been an awesome afternoon.

  “So I gotta work the weekend, as you know.”

  “Always.”

  “But what do you think about goin' to the pumpkin patch with me on Sunday? You know, somethin' lower to the ground?”

  Her blue eyes light up with laughter and intrigue. “I've never done that before...”

  Surprise shakes me again. “Seriously? You've never been to a pumpkin patch?”

  “My grandfather wasn't a fan of leaving the property if he didn't have to.”

  “And Mal?”

  “Oh no.” She quickly shakes her head. “She wasn't a fan of things that were dirty or made her sweaty. Sex aside.”

  I chortle and state, “Then it's decided. Our next date I'll take you to a pumpkin patch.” Seeing the apprehension for a choice made for her I add, “If you think you
'd be okay with that.”

  She offers me a small nod.

  “I'll see if I can find one with booths and stuff. If you want we can carve 'em up afterward. They won't last 'til Halloween, but still fun to do.”