Page 39 of Hunter

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Why not?”

“Because yesterday you hated me.”

He flinches, then nods. “Yeah, I guess I did. I thought you broke up with me because you didn’t like me enough to give me a chance.”

It hurts me to hear him say this. It’s not true. Not at all.

“I never said that, Hunter.”

“But it’s a logical conclusion to draw,” he points out, “when someone doesn’t want you anymore.”

But I did want you,I think.It hurt how much I wanted you. That’s part of the reason I had to let you go.

“It wasn’tyou,” I say. “It was the distance.”

He drapes an arm over my hip, his touch light but comforting.

“Right. But you also said you didn’t want me to get hurt. I interpreted that as a kind, but thinly veiled, rejection.”

“You’re remembering it wrong,” I say gently, understanding where our wires crossed. “I said I didn’t wantanyoneto get hurt. That included me, Hunter.”

His eyes narrow. He doesn’t believe me.

“What?” I ask.

“Come on,” he says. “You were talking about me, right? You didn’t want a long-distance relationship, so you were trying to let me down gently.”

The warm sand. My hand in his. Te adoro, cariña.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “I was talking about me, too. I wanted you, Hunter. Istillwant you. But living without you was painful, and I—I was letting people down. I was reminded that…well, that long-distance relationships don’t work for me. Letting you go was as much about self-preservation as it was about protecting you.”

“I wasn’t your first long-distance relationship,” he says, staring at me intently. “You tried it before, didn’t you? Dating someone far away?”

“Not really,” I answer honestly. “I had to let him go, too. But I was young, and the lesson stuck: make your life where you live.”

“I get it,” he says softly. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He’s still for a second, then looks at me over his shoulder. “So…you sure you’re up for this?”

“Three weeks of mind-blowing sex?” I grin at him. “Yeah. I’m down.”

“It has to be a secret if I want to keep my job.”

“You want me to be your dirty little secret?” I purr.

He chuckles, then stands up, crossing the tiny cabin to grab his boxers from the floor and slide them on.

“The dirtier the better,” he says, throwing on his polo shirt and pulling up his shorts.

“Tomorrow night?”

“Every night, Bella,” he says, leaning over me, his lips a breath away from mine. “Every fucking night, you’re mine.”

He kisses me hard—a kiss meant to sting for a second even after he leaves. A kiss meant to remind me that for the next few weeks, I belong exclusively to him. And I fucking love it.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, heading out the door.

The door closes with a softwhoosh, and I’m left alone in a post-orgasmic haze, counting down the hours until I see him again.

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