Page 12 of Reckless Desire

I’ve been so lonely and bitter that a bit of fake attention screws with my ability to see things for what they are. An honest transaction, Hunter called it. Honest, my ass.

He leans back in his chair, relaxed, his hooded eyes scanning me.

“Beach or mountain vacation?” He changes the dynamics of the conversation. So he must sense something is different.Yeah, Hunter, I sobered up.

“Mountains,” I lie. That’s the game, after all.

He jerks his eyebrows up, as if calling me on my bullshit. “Movies or a play?”

“Both.” I might prefer movies, but he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t care, anyway.

“Dogs or cats?”

“Fish.” I shrug and he narrows his eyes.

Our main course arrives and I attack it, though I’m not hungry. Anything to avoid those eyes. I’m really annoyed. I let myself believe this was something. It’s nothing.

We eat in silence. It’s not a comfortable silence because I’m fuming inwardly. I steal a few glimpses at Hunter, but each time he catches me our eyes lock, and I wish he wasn’t who he is.

Why does he do it? Paying off student loans? Mortgage? Gambling debts?

I want to ask him why. Is it a side hustle? What is his actual job, if he has one? I’m perversely interested in finding out more details about him.

I like him. I need this dark part of him to have a profound reason. I want a positive spin, so I feel better about tonight.

What? Tonight is about to end. We’ll finish our meal and I’ll send him home. Won’t I?

I like him. Perhaps London is onto something. There is no chance I’ll ever see him again. And even lesser of this becoming more, so I have nothing to lose. I’m pretty sure sex with him would be amazing.

I like him. Can I set aside my useless morals? I protested the idea strongly before, but now, even if this connection is fake, I’m having a good time. What’s stopping me?

“What’s your favorite dessert?” Hunter breaks the silence. I want to snap “enough with the fake interest”, but if I’m going to go through with this, I should just play along. Because that’s what we’re doing. Playing.

“Obviously, all of them,” I answer honestly.

He grins. That self-confident smirk on his face is attractive and annoying at the same time. “Obviously?” He shakes his head. “Because you're so sweet?”

Smooth, Casanova.“I know you haven’t seen me naked yet, but my hips are visible.” I point downward to emphasize my point.

He frowns. “You think you have big hips?”

I laugh. Seriously? “I know I do. And I’m fine with it.” I put down my cutlery. I’m stuffed. If I’m going to consider the post-dinner itinerary of this evening, I’ll need to walk off the meal before any other activity can occur.

“I think you are perfect.”

The compliment hangs between us, sucking away all the air and setting my skin on fire again, while simultaneously sprouting goosebumps down my spine. I’m trying to ignore it.

Hunter is waiting for my reaction. I fidget with my hands and look away. I wish I could remain casual and lighthearted, but his gaze may as well have X-ray qualities. We’re in the middle of a restaurant, fully dressed with a table between us, and I feel completely naked and alone with him.

I’m faintly aware of the hum of the few conversations around us, the soft lounge music, the clinking of glasses and clattering of the plates and silverware. All the sounds are almost imperceptible in the background as my heartbeat travels from my temples to my toes in a frantic beat.

When Hunter gets no reaction from me—I’m hoping my internal squirming is not visible—he speaks again.

“You said yet.”

I blink a few times, but it does nothing to ground me. “What?”

“You said I haven’t seen you nakedyet.”

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