Page 21 of Crossed Paths
Her gaze flicks up. “Why do you always call me that?”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
She tilts her head. “Everyone else calls me Ally. Or Alexandra. Pete sometimes calls me Al. But you’re the only one who says Alex.”
I shift, suddenly feeling like I’m being called out for something I didn’t know I’d been doing on purpose.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I guess… because Iamthe only one. It makes it feel like something just between us.”
She stares at me for a long second. “I hated it when we were younger.”
I flinch slightly. “Sorry—”
But she steps forward, places a hand gently on my chest, right over my heart.
“No,” she says, voice soft. “I hated it because it made me sound like a boy. But now that I know what it means…”
Her fingers curl slightly into my shirt.
“I like it.”
Her hand rests lightly against my chest, and for a second, neither of us moves. The air feels different now—quiet, full of things not said but understood.
Then she whispers, “Hunter.”
That single word spoken like that, almost breaks me.
She swallows, eyes not quite meeting mine. “Can you do something for me?”
“Anything,” I say, without hesitation.
Her gaze lifts. There’s a flicker of something raw in it—fear, maybe. Or just the weight of too much held in for too long.
“Can I have a hug?”
I don’t answer.
I just step forward and finally,finally, pull her into my arms.
She doesn’t hold back. Her body melts into mine like she’s been holding herself upright for too long and finally doesn’t have to. Her arms wrap around my waist, her face buries against my chest, and I hold her tighter than I probably should.
But she doesn’t seem to mind.
I bend slightly and press a kiss to the top of her head, and we just stand there, wrapped in each other, in the middle of my cluttered living room, in the aftermath of everything that’s been unsaid for years.
My hands slide up her back, tracing the curve of her spine, memorizing the feel of her against me. She’s always been curvy, soft in all the right places, and I can’t help butpress her closer, as if to prove to myself that she’s real. Her grey eyes are closed, her lashes brushing against her pale cheeks, and I’m struck by how right she feels in my arms.
“Hunter,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I—”
I don’t let her finish. I tilt her chin up with my thumb, my fingers brushing the fiery waves of her hair, and kiss her. It’s not gentle, not at first. It’s desperate, hungry, like I’ve been starving for this moment and can’t wait another second. Her lips part under mine, and I taste the sweetness of her, the warmth of her breath mingling with mine. My other hand cups the back of her head, holding her steady as I deepen the kiss, pouring every unspoken word, every missed moment, into it.
She responds with equal urgency, her hands gripping my shirt, her body pressing into mine. I can feel her heartbeat racing, her breath hitching, and it fuels the fire burning in my veins. I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted her, and now that she’s here, I can’t let go.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathless, our chests heaving in sync. Her eyes are glazed with desire, her lips swollen from my kiss, and I’m hit with a wave of possessiveness I’ve never felt before. “Come with me,” I say, my voice low and commanding. I don’t wait for her to respond, just take her hand and lead her toward my bedroom.
The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and the air feels heavy with anticipation. I turn to face her, my fingers still laced with hers, and trail my other hand down her arm, over the curve of her hip, pulling her closer.
“I didn't think it was possible to want someone this much,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her ear.
