Sex, Not Love

His eyes scorched with heat. “Opposed to being tied up?”

God, there was a lot Garrett and I didn’t do. “Never tried it. But I’d be open to it.”

“Nice. Toys?”

My face heated. “I have a vibrator, yes.”

“Opposed to using it for me?”

My mouth dropped open. I’d never masturbated with anyone watching. “I’m not sure.”

His eyes dropped to my pebbled nipples and rose back to meet mine. “I’ll take that as a yes. Any fetishes?”

“Me? No. You?”

“Not really. But would it scare you if I told you I’d love to spank your ass.”

I swallowed and whispered, “Oddly, no, not at all.”

“After I spank you, I’d take you from behind while you’re on all fours. Opposed?”

Jesus Christ. I didn’t answer, but that wasn’t because I was against it, I just couldn’t figure out how to get my mouth to move. Seeming to sense that my silence wasn’t a bad thing, his sinful mouth continued on.

“And when I’m done, I want to come all over your ass and back.”

“God, Hunter.”

“When is the next time Izzy is staying at her grandmother’s? I want a whole night the first time I’m inside you.”

In the moment, I couldn’t remember what day it was, much less which weekend my stepdaughter was scheduled to visit her grandmother. I gulped from my wine glass in a very unladylike manner and answered honestly. “Not soon enough.”

Somehow we managed to not claw each other’s clothes off after that. When we’d finished dinner, we cleaned up together and then sat in the living room talking. There was no lull in our conversation as we covered everything from work to our last vacations and places we’d like to visit. Hunter, it seemed, was an open book to most anything, except for his one serious relationship. And I, of all people, understood wanting to forget past mistakes.

Even though I hated to go, I asked him to drive me home about eleven. He walked me up to my apartment, and we said goodnight at the door with yet another amazing kiss.

“I’ll call you.” He kissed my forehead. I really loved when he did that for some reason.

“I won’t be able to answer most of tomorrow. It’s visiting day. I take Izzy to see her dad, and it’s a four-hour drive each way, plus the actual time while she visits.”

I caught Hunter’s jaw clench, but he nodded and said nothing further on the subject. “I have to fly back to California on Tuesday for a few days to work with a client on some last-minute drafting revisions. Look at your schedule and let me know if you’re free next weekend.”

“Okay.”

I checked in on a sleeping Izzy and took a quick shower. I was too awake to go right to sleep, so after, I sat on my bed, booted up my laptop, and opened my calendar in Google. Next weekend was marked off as Izzy’s monthly visit with her grandmother. She normally went on Friday, and I picked her up on Sunday, unless she had a game early Saturday morning. Then I dropped her after the game. I clicked to my bookmarked favorite sites and opened the athletics schedule for Beacon. Surprisingly, the only game this week was on Thursday evening. There was no Saturday game.

I reached for my phone and texted Hunter, figuring he would probably be home by now.

Natalia: Izzy’s weekend with her grandmother is next weekend.

The dots started to jump around.

Hunter: When do you drop her off?

Natalia: After practice on Friday—usually around seven. Then pick her up on the way to Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner.

Hunter: I’ll pick you up at eight Friday night. Pack a bag. You’re staying the weekend.

My little heart went into a pitter-patter frenzy. Before I could respond, a second text came in.