Page 64 of Breaking the Rules

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"Fuck, that's a loaded question."

Yeah, it is. And there's something about him. This quiet contemplation. Like there's an ocean of torment beneath those blue eyes.

He wasn't like that before.

Or maybe I didn't realize it.

I'm not sure I noticed those kinds of subtleties. More his abs.

I move to the stove. Turn the burner to medium. "Your job."

"Artist sounds so temperamental. Like a guy who's going to throw his latte if someone questions his vision."

"You met my old boss?"

His chuckle is louder. Heartier. "No. But I had my own."

"Yeah?"

He nods. "The shop where I apprenticed. Guy who taught me was great. A hard-ass, yeah, but he gave a shit. He challenged me. He wanted the world for me."

"Then?"

"Then?" His voice drops.

There's a story about what happened at his old shop.

A story he doesn't want me to know.

I want it.

I want to know him.

And not just because he's here or because he's hot or because he's good at scaring off creeps.

Because he's Hunter.

I press my lips together. "The pan's warm. Let's fry this breast. Put it on the pan with the flat side down."

He picks up the chicken breast, turns, steps to the stove, sets it down.

He's right there.

He's so close.

I want to reach out and touch him. To tear off his t-shirt. Unzip his jeans. Run my fingers through his hair.

I want to know that Vinnie didn't change anything.

That sex can still feel good.

That I can still want someone.

I haven't. Not since that… bad date.

It's been three months and I haven't wanted anyone.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like I was expecting to fill the months with hookups.

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