Page 78 of Bad Love

I look between the fridge and the slip.Again.

Damnit.

I leave the fridge door ajar and dash out to the hall. "Hunter!"

There’s no sign ofhim.

No. He can’t begone.

I run down the steps to the frontfoyer.

His tall, broad frame is a shadow receding in the darkness, but he stops at the sound of my voice calling his nameagain.

I cross the cement walkway, pulling up breathless with inches between us and wrapping my sweater around me. "What's in thefridge?"

Hunter’s face is all angles in the darkness, the floodlight from the building catching on his cheekbones and nose and leaving his eyes and mouth inshadows.

"We freestyled the assignment. I almost called you when he got to dumping Gruyère in there like a madman."

My whole body tingles as I’m flooded with new emotions. Gratitude, desire, and need tumble in an indefinable mass. Logan Hunter's standing on my sidewalk in a bomber jacket, talking about making a casserole with mykid.

I shift up on my toes, pressing my lips to his cheek as the backs of my eyesburn.

When I pull back, hestares.

I’m too tired to be embarrassed. But before I can decide whether to turn tail and go back inside, he closes the distance between us and lowers his mouth tomine.

It’s the opposite of our kiss in the car. That was about my gratitude for what he’d done and the frustration I feel every time I turn himaway.

This is allHunter.

You can’t hold me at adistance.

At least that’s how I read the controlled slide of his mouth over mine, the patient but insistent way he forces my lipsapart.

Fine.My fingers stretch up, thread into his hair, and tug on theends.

He obliges, slanting his lips across mine at a new angle. I twist my tongue around the barbell in his, tastingmetal.

Tonight, in the dark, I want him to have all of it. My honesty. My mess. My fear and uncertainty about my past andfuture.

My fingers drag down his chest, feeling every hard ridge of muscle through the soft fabric on the way down to hisbelt.

But his big hand closes over mine. I pull back, a sound of frustration escaping my throat. He's right. We’re in front of my damn building, and it’s all I can do not to ask him to take me right there in theshadows.

"Pez,” I tell him when I can catch mybreath.

Hunter's eyes glitter in the dark with barely leashed desire. “Huh?”

“You asked me about Orange. It’s the North American headquarters of the Pez corporation. The state fair’s a pretty big dealtoo.”

He chuckles as his lips graze my forehead. I love their curve against my skin almost as much as I love how he drags me into his arms. I huff out a breath against his shoulder, loving the smell of his jacket and ofhim.

"You want me tostay?"

I let out a shaky breath against the leather, stretching out the moment as if I could actually entertain the thought of a whole night feeling likethis.

"No,” I say atlast.

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