Page 73 of Hunter

I knew in that moment that there was so much more to this than money, which had been the reasoning both Hunter and his men had suggested. If a woman wants to earn money, she can do so in both savory and unsavory ways, neither requiring her to move thousands of miles from her child to do so.

For her to be convinced to cross countries, to infiltrate a dangerous family such as the Devanes, there needed to be a strong enough reason. There had to be something that she couldn’t bear to lose. And the only thing that came to me was her child.

Kasia told me how Rodion would demand information. Of my whereabouts, of Hunter’s. He would ask her to go to his known businesses, so she joined the gym and would hang around watching for him. She told me that a lawyer I approached over a year ago regarding my divorce had highlighted the change in dynamic to Rodion, how I was getting ready to file the paperwork.

Men in these circles know that women changing the goal posts are not accepted easily. Rodion banked on Hunter not giving me up without a fight, and he moved his pawn into position before I was even aware I was in the game.

Although I’ve been aware all my life that women are often used as leverage in this world, the past weeks have shown it clearly. Between the threats to Kasia and her family and Tilly’s forced marriage, it is obvious where the power imbalance lies. Both of them are being used in someone else’s war to gain information or favor. Neither are in control of their future as they should be. But if this morning taught me anything, it is that sometimes a woman’s touch is what’s needed to move closer to a result.

Hunter holds me close as we lie together on the sofa. He doesn’t speak. All I can hear is his rhythmic breathing synchronized with my own. Every so often, he kisses my cheek or nuzzles my hair affectionately; it’s a gesture that reminds me of the college romances I loved as a teen.

Wondering how to broach the subject I want to talk about, I take a breath, steeling myself for his pushback. Ever since our reconciliation Hunter has come a long way, becoming more of a man each day than he has ever been. Questioning tradition and walking the line of what to do and what should be done. Deciding to just take the bull by the horns, I make the statement that could break us wide open.

“You know you can’t save Kasia without saving your niece,” I say, my voice soft.

He freezes. We both lie static as he processes what I’ve just said.

“You can’t save one woman from the lion’s den while incarcerating another. One that carries your blood.”

“The two situations are different. Tilly will be looked after,” he challenges, but I hold strong.

“Just like he looked after her when the gunshots sounded at the gala? He left her there to die, Hunter. Domenico Lombardi doesn’t care about Tilly, only the deal. It’s that attitude that caused this war in the first place when his family murdered Zoya Anastasov. You need to put Tilly first.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he says. “You’ve seen how they react when betrayed. It would risk you, our future child, my friends. Whoever I turn against will be out for my blood or that of someone I love. Rodion has already made his move by redirecting the ships and sabotaging our alliance. I can’t afford to lose the Lombardi’s loyalty as well.”

“And the cost of that is your niece’s freedom. Her right to love who she wants,” I spit, sitting up and turning to face him. “It’s complicated. I get it. But this is her life not yours. You must find a way.”

“I’ll try,” he replies, his voice cracking painfully.

“You can.” I take his hands in mine, wrapping my fingers tight. “You can, and you will. You, Hunter Devane, are my husband. You are the strongest man I know. Now is the time to step forward and be the man you were in those letters. The man I know you are.”

His throat works around a swallow as his eyes search mine. Then, slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. The kiss lingers, heavy with the promise of everything unsaid. When he pulls back, something in his expression shifts, resolve replacing hesitation. A need, not a want.

“Come to bed,” he says, his voice low, rough, like gravel soaked in heat. Before anything can be done to sort the mess we find ourselves in, he needs this. He needs me. We need time together in the most intimate way, before we can move on and fight.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He stands, pulling me with him, and lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing at all. My gasp is lost as his mouth finds mine—demanding, possessive, worshipful. He carries me upstairs, kissing me constantly, and gently lays me down in the bedroom as if I were his most prized possession.

“I need to see you,” he murmurs, fingers brushing the hem of the hoodie. “All of you.”

I nod, and he slides the fabric over my head. I’m naked beneath, not having taken the time this morning to fully dress. His eyes darken as they drag over my skin, taking in every inch like he’s learning it from scratch, like he’ll never let himself forget again.

“You’re mine,” he says, not as a warning but a prayer. “Always have been, haven’t ya?”

“I always was,” I agree, loving the faint Irish lilt his words gain when aroused. “I never stopped being yours.”

He kisses me again, slower now, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into the way his lips move against mine. His hands roam over my waist, my hips, the curve of my breast, remembering. When he finally lowers his mouth, trailing heat down my neck, across my chest, his tongue swirls over my nipple, and I arch into him, moaning. I want this as much as he does, a reminder that in a world so dark, we have each other.

“Hunter…” My voice trembles with need, and he groans against my skin, the sound vibrating through me.

He slides my leggings down inch by inch, his knuckles grazing the outside of my thighs, making me shiver. Then he sinks between my thighs like a man starved, his mouth finding my aching pussy with unrelenting precision.

His tongue dances between my lips slowly at first, as if he’s reacquainting himself with every inch of me. A low growl vibrates from his chest when he tastes how ready I am for him, and the sound sends a fresh wave of excitement rolling through me.

His hands grip my thighs, thumbs brushing firm circles over the sensitive skin just beneath my hips as his mouth works deeper. He alternates between lazy strokes and devastating flicks of his tongue, sucking gently on my clit until my hips lift off the bed.

“Hunter…” I breathe, threading my fingers into his hair.

He groans in response, the vibration shooting straight through me, then he locks his arms tighter around my thighs, anchoring me to the mattress. There’s no escape from the pleasure, not from the way he’s consuming me like I’m his last meal.

---