Page 41 of Crossed Paths
His words are my undoing. My body shatters, my orgasm ripping through me, a cascade of pleasure that leaves me breathless, my cries echoing in the dimly lit room. Hunter follows, his thrusts becoming erratic, his growls filling the air as he spills himself deep inside me.
For a moment, we’re still, our bodies connected, our breaths ragged. Then, slowly, he pulls out, his hands guiding me to lie back on the bed. He collapses beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his forehead resting against mine.
We lie tangled in the warm hush of my bedroom, the duvet half-kicked down, skin cooling in the quiet. My head rests on his chest, the steady thump of his heart loud in my ear. His fingers move through my hair in slow, absent strokes, like he’s not even aware he’s doing it.
I could stay like this forever.
I tilt my chin slightly, my voice soft. “What are you thinking?”
There’s a pause.
Then a breath of a laugh rumbles beneath my cheek. “Trying to get my brain and heart to shut up.”
That makes me lift my head just enough to glance at him, brows raised. “Clarify.”
Hunter’s chest rises beneath me as he lets out a long breath, like he’s been waiting for permission to say the next part.
“It’s just…” he starts, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’ve had this relationship with you a hundred times in my head. Maybe more. All the different versions of it. What I’d say, what you’d say. How it might go if we ever actually got the timing right.”
My heart gives a small, foolish flutter.
He glances down at me, his fingers still gently combing through my hair. “So, sometimes, when I’m lying here with you like this, it feels like we’re further along than we are. Like we’ve already done the hard bits and found our rhythm. Like this is year three, not week three.”
I smile faintly against his skin. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“No,” he says, voice rougher now. “It’s adangerousthing. Because if I let myself lean into it too far, I’ll end up saying something that scares you away. Like asking you to move in with me tomorrow, bring your cat and your sourdough starter and stay with me forever.”
I huff a laugh. “I don’t have a sourdough starter… or a cat for that matter.”
“See?” he says, lips curving. “It’s clearly too soon.”
But there’s something sincere underneath the teasing—something that makes me go still.
He’s trying. He’s pacing himself. For me.
And I don’t know what to do with that level of care. Other than feel it. Everywhere.
I lift my head slightly so I can see him better, my fingers lightly tracing the edge of his collarbone.
“I’ve had those versions in my head too,” I say, voice quieter than I mean it to be. “Maybe not a hundred, but enough.”
His eyes flick to mine, sharp with surprise. “You have?”
I nod, heart thudding. “I don’t even know when it started. There wasn’t some big moment, no lightning bolt. Just… little things, I suppose. And then one day I realised you were in my head more than you weren’t.”
Hunter stares at me like he’s trying to lock in every word. His expression shifts—surprise first, then something warmer, deeper. His mouth parts slightly,like he wants to say something, but doesn’t want to interrupt the sound of my voice.
“I kept pretending it was nothing,” I murmur. “That I was imagining it. That it would pass.”
He shakes his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “Alex…”
“I think it snuck up on me,” I go on, cheeks warming. “But lately… every time you run past the pub on Saturday mornings? My heart just—” I let out a soft laugh. “It properly goes bonkers.”
Hunter lets out a low, breathy sound—half-laugh, half-gasp—and his arms tighten around me. His face buries in my hair, and I feel the grin pressed against my scalp.
“You have no idea what it means to hear you say that,” he murmurs.
“I might,” I whisper, eyes fluttering shut.
