Page 62 of Piece Us Together

It tugs until it hurts to breathe.

It tugs until I’m saying, “Hunter.”

He freezes, then slowly turns to look at me. “Yeah? Do you need something?”

You.

I think I need you.

I think maybe we both do.

“Sleep with us?” It was meant to be an order, but it comes out as a soft, almost fragile question. My face burns. That ache in my chest turns to a heavy weight.

“You’re sure?”

No. No, I’m not.

What the fuck are you doing to me?

I nod. When he hesitates, I find myself smiling a little. As nice as it is to let him be in charge sometimes, it’s also fun to get the man in control to waver. He doesn’t get flustered easily, but when he does, it pleases something in me—that same something that has started to ache and want.

“Just get comfortable, Hunter,” I say with a fond eye-roll. It makes me feel steadier for him to be unsure for some reason. Like I finally fucking have the upper hand with this man. “Then get in the damn bed.”

He hesitates for a breath longer, then begins to strip.

I watch.

I shouldn’t—this isn’t sexual, he isn’t mine, it’s completely inappropriate, there’s a reason I haven’t let myself do it before—but I can’t help it. I watch every second. Every detail logs itself in my mind before I can stop them. The hollow of his throat. The hair on his chest. The surprisingly toned stomach with a little happy trail. Strong forearms. Elegant fingers. Tight boxer briefs hugging firm, hairy thighs.

He sets his glasses on the bedside table, then his watch. A nervous hand runs through his hair, messing it on the top.

“What?” he asks when he catches me looking, freezing with only a knee on the bed.

“You let me tell you what to do,” I say, which is part of my amazement, but nowhere near the main event. His fuckingbody. Fuck.Am I allowed to be attracted to him this much?

Hunter chuckles, his body relaxing as he finishes climbing in beside Nolan. He doesn’t answer until the blankets are settled around him and the lights are off.

“I let you tell me what to do because it’s what I wanted anyway,” he says in the dark, a dangerous amusement lacing his words. “Don’t get it twisted, Maison. I’m still in charge when the two of you are under my roof.”

I swallow hard before offering the same argument I’ve been clinging to since all this began. “You’re not my dom.”

Why does that argument feel so fragile right now?

Why does it feel like a fucking lie?

Maybe Hunter can feel it too because he doesn’t agree or placate me like he usually would. Instead, he makes a soft noise before saying, “Go to sleep, Maison. You need rest.”

I obey him.

I don’t let myself think too hard about why.

Chapter Fifteen

Hunter

The first thing to register when I wake up is that it’s cold. The second is that the sun hasn’t risen yet. The third is that I’m not in my own bed.

I’m also not alone.

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