Marc Jillson & The Gazebo (Love Inscribed 2)

Hunter rolled his eyes. “His cock smelled great.”

“Something really gross better happen with his face and some cheese very soon.”

“Nothing like that happened.”

“Then where did the cheese come from?”

Hunter snickered. “He was full of it. Always upbeat, always something sappy to say. Cheesy as hell.”

I grumbled about it being a misleading nickname as Hunter watched me. “You’re grinning super-hard man. Do you dig cheesiness?”

Hunter’s expression morphed into something fucking mournful. He batted his eyes, a dreamy smile on his lips. “If you were at a kissing booth, I’d buy all your kisses.”

I blinked at him and groaned. “Piss off.”

Hunter smoothly kept pace beside me. “Falling for you is easier than breathing.”

I muttered to myself. “I never should have asked.”

“Just talking to you, my heart’s at risk of exploding.”

“Seriously, go to hell.”

“I could survive a million fiery deaths as long as you’re by my side.”

I increased my pace and flipped him off. He laughed.

“Have fun with Peter,” I called back to him. “He’s the only pickle you’re getting.”

Hunter choked on a laugh, and I was glad I’d stormed ahead so he didn’t catch me smothering my own.

Number one-eighteen was a fenced-off cottage with concrete steps leading to the front door. I stopped at the base. “Are you going to kick my ass if I offer to help you up?”

Hunter swiveled his chair around. “There’s a rail here, so if I were alone, I’d get myself up. But it’s a little tricky. I won’t kick your ass.”

I gripped the back handles of his chair and pulled him up the five steps. The path flattened and Hunter resumed gliding beside me. “Thanks.”

“Does it bother you? People helping?” I paused. “Or using idioms like ‘kick your ass’ without thinking?”

“Idiom away. I get it. As for people helping . . .”

I winced. “Yeah, you seem independent.”

His expression softened. “Thank you. Most people mean well when they help, and I’m okay with it.”

“Right.”

“I’d rather rely on kind offers of help than compromise on an outing.”

But he’d prefer to manage most situations on his own. Got it. “And, like, what about . . .” Could I ask?

Hunter rubbed the back of my thigh, his go-to spot when I stood next to him. His touch felt like a warm tattoo. Still there long after his fingers dropped away. “What, Marc?”

I helped Hunter up the step to the vine-framed porch. “Would you let someone piggyback you places?”

“Maybe. If they’re cute and I can nibble kisses on their neck.” Hunter swiveled around. “Though they might need to work on their strength.”

I gave him a soft smack on the back of his head. Oh fuck, his hair was so soft. “Hey, I’m strong.”

Hunter gave me a soft, curved grin. “I guess you’ll have to prove it to me sometime.”

“You’re good at hacking info about people,” I said after we said goodbye to Vaughn Alexander and I helped Hunter down the stairs.

“Uh huh.”

The sun stretched warmly through the orange-leaved trees, dappling the sidewalk and us. The scent of cut grass filled the air.

I studied Hunter’s profile: strong set jaw, copper-blond lashes, perfect ear shell.

“Like, really good,” I said suspiciously.

His arms flexed, a knowing tilt at his lips, a bright spark in his eye. “What’s your point, Marc?”

“You had to know he was married to a woman, that Vaughn wouldn’t be our V.A.”

“Well. I couldn’t know for certain.”

I watched him carefully, counting every tick. “Is the other V.A. married?”

“No.”

“Kids?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t we start with that V.A. then?”

Hunter spoke simply. Matter of fact. “I wanted the day with you to last longer.”

Shivers flurried in my belly. I stepped behind him and halted his chair, gripping the handles hard.

Hunter tipped his head back at me with a curious frown. “Marc—”

I kissed him.

My lips trembled over his, and Hunter stiffened under me for one excruciating heartbeat before he sucked in a breath and kissed me back. I squeezed the handles as I held back a whimper. A soft slotting of his lips, his nose tapping my chin, my mouth moved, fast and urgent over his. My tongue stole into his mouth and I was rewarded with the slippery touch of his locking around mine as if to pull me closer.

His callused fingers pressed into my neck as he clutched my head, palms cupping my ears.

He tasted like peppermint, like he’d expected this moment, and that made me kiss him harder.

“Are your brakes on?” I murmured into flustered kisses.

“Yes.”

I released the handles and ran my hands over his shoulders, spreading my fingers wide as I pushed down his chest, over his nipples to his abs. He groaned and broke from the kiss, not letting my head go, keeping me close. He caught his breath and drew me into another kiss.

Softer this time, he dragged the surface of his lips over mine.

“I want more,” he said. My dick wanted to drill out of my damn jeans. “I want to see you lose yourself when I fuck you.”