Page 29 of Dead Bled Ringer
Hunter took a sharp turn, grabbing me around the waist to keep me steady, his arm right under my heavy breasts. My face flamed with embarrassment as my nipples tightened like diamond points against the silky fabric, and I hoped my brother-in-law hadn’t noticed.
We pulled into some 24-hour diner out in the middle of fucking nowhere, dark woods crowded up against the fluorescent lights of the squat brown building.
“Stop carrying me around!” I shrieked as he took off my helmet and pulled me into his arms again.
“You’ve got no shoes on, brat,” Hunter said briefly, and I crossed my arms angrily as he carried me inside and put me down in a booth.
The table looked dense with a few inches of sticky residue, but I could smell the mouth-watering scent of 1 am waffles.
Hunter bent down in front of me, taking my leg in one hand and pushing my feet into one of the boots.
“Get away from me,” I said, but the sight of him between my thighs made me flush.
I couldn’t help remembering how he looked when he had eaten my pussy, and if the twisted smile on his face was any indication, he was remembering it, too.
Aggravating, infuriating man.
“I don’t want your toes to be cold,” he said, putting my other boot on, then sliding into the seat across from me, jostling my knees with his long legs.
“Can I get you some food? You must be hungry.”
I glared at him.
“No, thank you. I wouldn’t like whatever greasy, disgusting food they have at this diner.”
“Liar,” he said, his slash of a mouth turning up in some perverse amusement.
“Youlie tome,” I retorted. “Now I want answers. Why were you outside my house?”
His lips twisted.
“Next question.”
“Seriously, Hunter. Tell me. I mean it.”
“Why do you think?” he asked, looking steadily at me.
And then I couldn’t breathe, my throat closing up, and I didn’t want to think about the answer, about the way he was looking at me with that steady dark gaze, or the way I felt my traitorous pussy twitching.
There was nothing to twitch about. After all, Hunter looked exactly like my disgusting cowardly cheating husband Henry.
Although. . .being this close to him with his mask off, I didn’t think I could mistake them again. There was something in Hunter’s eyes that was just different. The one dark eye, the other golden one, were both blazing at me, and although there was a harsh frown on his face, there was a raw heat emanating from him, so different than Henry’s cold reptilian looks.
“Where did you get that cut on your cheek?” I asked. “Was that from the fight?”
“No,” he said, as I tried not to look at his strong jaw, the way his hair was a bit long and messy in the back, the way it curled over his ears.
“I got sick of looking like my brother.”
My heart almost stopped at his words. Oh, Hunter wasdangerousto me.
“I demand you tell me what is going on,” I cried, my pulse racing. “Why were you doing Henry’s dirty work and trying to get us back together?”
He ignored me, looking down at the menu.
“I’m thinking eggs and bacon. And waffles, of course,” he said.
“God, what a massive asshole you are,” I cried pettishly.
