He doesn’t deepen the kiss, but even just softly brushing his lips against mine, he reaches deep and roots himself inside me. I feel it happening. My affection for him grows exponentially, hardens into something unbreakable. It’s like my heart knows that loving him will be hard, that I need to preserve all the tender, protective feelings I’m experiencing right now or we’ll never make it.
I save it all in my memory. His tender touch on my face, his soft lips on mine. I was so sad just a moment ago, but now I’m so happy I could float away.
Hunter pushes me back on the bed, but it feels so natural I don’t hesitate to let him. It feels good when he climbs on top of me, when he flattens me against the bed and buries his face in my neck.
Maybe a little too good. My senses soar as he kisses his way up and down my neck, my nerve endings all going absolutely nuts. My heart begins to race, my breaths coming a little more rapidly, and then Hunter’s hand covers my left breast and I come to my senses.
“Hunter, wait,” I say, pushing at him lightly.
He stops, hovering over me and looking down at me. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m struck by how beautiful he looks. Everything about him feels dark right now. It’s too dark to really see into his eyes, but I can feel their intensity when he looks down at me. His dark hair is disheveled and a little too long. I smile, reaching up and threading my fingers through the soft locks.
I don’t want to tell him he’s moving a little too fast for me or that I’m not ready. I don’t even know if he was trying to do more than kiss me, but I know what I was feeling. I know if I let him kiss me for much longer, I won’t have the presence of mind to say no if he does.
He doesn’t push, though. Without a word, he absorbs my reluctance and dials it back, settling in the tenderness but not pushing for more. He leans down so that our bodies are pressed together again, but I don’t feel the need I felt a moment ago. He’s put it away, caged it to make me more comfortable.
I’m grateful. He presses his forehead against mine and steals one more sweet kiss, then he eases down on the bed beside me.
I carefully wrap an arm around his torso and curl up close to him. Neither of us says a word out loud, but it feels like we’re saying so much.
I’ve never felt so close to someone before.
“Was that okay?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” I assure him, resting my head against his arm. “More than okay.”
“Good.”
We lay there together for so long, I almost drift off. When I realize it, I force myself to move away from the welcoming warmth of his body and sit up on the bed.
I’m not sure he’s awake at first, but after I sit up, he slowly pulls himself up, too. I notice he makes a faint grunting sound as he does and presses a hand to his side.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
Hunter nods wordlessly.
I lick my lips, then bite down on my lower one uncertainly. “Are there marks? I mean, other than the ones I can see.”
“I don’t know. Probably. I haven’t looked.”
“Maybe we should,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, then he stands and tugs his hoodie off without another word. I watch in mild alarm as he drops his gray wrestling hoodie on the ground, then tugs off the white tee he was wearing underneath.
I skitter off the bed. It’s partially because he’s undressing in my bedroom, but I also need to turn on the light if I’m going to inspect his wounds.
We both grimace at the sudden brightness when I turn it on. I want to turn it back off, but the impulse fades and alarm takes hold of me when I get a good look at Hunter’s upper body. He didn’t take his jeans off, but there are angry red welts all over his upper body. He’ll definitely have bruises.
My heart must be in my eyes when I look back at him, because his features suddenly darken and he snaps, “Don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I’m not,” I say quickly, shaking my head.
“I’m fine,” he says, scowling.
“I know. I’m not feeling sorry for you, I just… I’m just mad. I’m mad that this happened. And yes, sad, but it’s not like that.”
Hunter sighs and looks off to the side in aggravation, then he grabs his T-shirt. “He’s such a prick. I hate that asshole.”
“So do I,” I assure him, watching as he starts to pull his shirt back on. “Wait. Why don’t you let me take pictures so you have proof? Just in case you ever need them. I have a phone now, I can take pictures and text them to you so you’ll have them. And if you ever need someone to testify on your behalf…”