Page 207 of Breaking the Rules
Chapter Thirty
Emma
After work, Hunter takes me through another business lesson. This time it's projections. We look at years of historical data. Models based on a few months or a year. Compare our estimates to reality.
There are formulas, sure, but there's an art to it too.
By the time we get home, my brain is fried.
I zone out while we cook.
Hunter helps. He even sets the table.
We savor eggplant Parmesan together.
We barely even joke about the phallic implications of the vegetable.
Then we retire to the couch.
Watch moreDaredevil, drink too much coffee, eat too much chocolate.
I try to keep my distance, but with every episode, I move a little closer.
I rest my head on his chest.
Soak up the smell of his soap.
The warmth of his skin.
Thethump-thumpof his strong, steady heartbeat.
* * *
Another morning,another living room filled with the scent of coffee.
And the even more delicious sight of Hunter in my raspberry towel.
He's no longer dripping, but he's wet.
Light bounces off his slick skin. Calls attention to the deep lines of his muscles.
How can one man be this endlessly yummy?
It's wrong.
I barely manage to walk across the room. I'm knock-kneed and nervous. It's not like me, but that's the Hunter Keating effect.
He nods to a mug of coffee sitting on the counter. "Sumatra."
Mmm, that's a good one. I brush against him as I wrap my hands around the mug.
He's right there and he's wet and warm. His skin is soft, but his muscles are so hard.
He's just so…
Mmm.
I swallow a sip of coffee. Let my moan fill the room.
