Page 47 of Three
“My heart. It bleeds.” I snigger at his indignant expression and send him a flying kiss. “Feel free to share it with the remaining two-thirds of your trio.”
Hunter’s deadpan expression makes me move, and I follow him around the side of the house—not before catching the rude one flipping me off. I, of course, respond in kind.I feel suddenly at home.
While walking behind Hunter, my eyes are caught by his ass. Damn, I could bounce a quarter off that thing. It should be displayed in an art museum. Those two dimples on his lower back make my tongue eagerly twist inside my mouth.
The animal noises get louder and the smell stronger. Soon enough, we pass by a small, fenced area holding two goats, a pig, and chickens. Further down, I can see a small vegetable garden. Didn’t take Grizzly for the farming type.
We walk on the concrete path that wraps around to the back of the house leading to a covered, wooden deck. Thick trees block the view from any neighboring houses, and a green barn sits about twenty feet away, just before the row of trees.
This place is not bad. Fresh air. Space. Peace.
Hunter waves at an armless white chair on the deck as he sits on another one. The old paint is cracked and peeling, they look ancient but sturdy.
“Uhm, sorry to barge in here…uninvited.” I sound like a bumbling idiot. A lying idiot too since I’m not sorry at all. I drop my ass on the hard chair and feel the coolness of the iron seeping through my legs and back. My hands are sweaty and I rub the palms on the rough fabric of my jeans.
“The triplets are obnoxious with anybody, invited or not.” He crosses his arms, a closed-off posture. Not good.
“I’m nothing special. Got the message,” I joke. What I’m really doing is fishing for compliments, but Hunter remains silent. “Who are they?” I dare to ask.
“They live with me, that’s all.” Defensive and vague.
“Papa Bear fits you.” I draw my conclusions. It’s odd that I didn’t find anything about the trio when I researched Hunter. Not a thing. Why? It’s hard to think with his bare torso just a few feet from me.
“Papa Bear.” He lets out a puff of air as I slide my gloveless hands between my thighs and look around. “Are you okay?” It feels like his intense stare has a direct view into my soul.
“Mmm, I’m sorry about yesterday. I…” I run a nervous hand through my hair—it’s soft and thick and damp. I’m sweating every-fucking-where, Jesus.
Oh, fuck it! “Do you know what emotional numbness is?”
He shakes his head. His expression stern.
“It’s a psychological phenomenon. It’s something our mind does to help us cope when we’re flooded with…big emotions. The brain takes a sharp left to la-la land, and it makes you feel numb.”
He keeps silent. His dark, wary gaze studying me.
“It’s usually temporary. Not in my case.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I have a selective type that my mother calls sensory numbness because it affects my senses: touch, taste, and smell. I don’t feel them.”
He blinks a couple of times, and the severity disappears from his face. “You don’t feel them.”
“Nope.”
I see the exact moment he starts thinking back. “When you got hit with that wooden board, you didn’t even flinch, and the cactus at the supermarket…you acted like you didn’t feel anything.”
“Because I didn’t.”
He drops his elbows on his knees and leans toward me. “But when we fucked, you were feeling my touch. You begged for it.”
Fuck, yes, I did, and I hope I’ll do it again. “Fucking and fighting give me an adrenaline rush, which awakens my dormant senses for a very brief time. My mind kind of unlocks and gives my body the reins.”
He checks his knuckles, and when his eyes come back to me, they’re filled with fire.
Who needs air, right?
“This numbness is a defense mechanism. Something happened to you.”Very acute.It’s not a question, but a statement. Doesn’t need a reply from me.
I stand up and move to the edge of the deck, eyes on the line of trees. The earthy smell of nature fills my lungs, and I can’t get enough. “A mental dissociation. The numbness started as a temporary relief. But after a while, those sense-full moments became the real relief. Ironic, right?”
“Why are you telling me this, Ramiel?” He sounds angry, and when I turn to look at him, his hands are balled up, pressing on his thighs. Did I irritate him? He surely didn’t sign up for this. We are temporarily working together, and just had fun a couple of times, vomiting my personal stuff on him isn’t something he expected or wanted.
