Chapter 5

Carrying a laundry basket full of clean clothes upstairs, I walk past the two closed doors on either side of the hallway and go into Hunter's and my room. I set the basket on the bed and grab Hunter's socks and boxer briefs and take them to the dresser to put away.

As I pull out a stack of t-shirts from the basket, my eyes land on the framed picture on Hunter's nightstand. A smile curls my lips as I walk around and pick it up.

Sitting on our bed, I stare at one of my favorite pictures of Hunter and me. It was taken a few years ago when we went to Montana for Max and Emily's wedding. The ceremony was held outside on Max's ranch. With my hair swept up, I wore a lavender satin gown that showed off my shoulders. Hunter looked devilishly handsome in his black tux. The look on his face as he dipped me backward during our dance will forever be one of my favorites. Anyone looking at him would see the absolute devotion in his eyes as he gazed down at me. My own expression was full of every ounce of love I have for the man holding me. Mom took the picture, and she couldn't have captured it at a more perfect moment.

I thank God every day for my best friend, Megan, because she's the reason Hunter and I met. We were both in our third year of college and had just finished finals. After stressing over classes for a week, I wanted to sleep for days, but Megan dragged me out of the house to celebrate. A friend of ours had a membership with Slate and managed to get us inside. We had been to the club once before and we liked the atmosphere.

We danced, we laughed, we drank, and even met a couple of guys who were charming. Or, we thought they were. It wasn't until I left Megan on the dance floor to grab a drink that the guy who had attached himself to me handed me a glass. Before I could take the first sip, the drink was ripped from my hands and the guy flew backward. He landed on his ass with blood gushing from his broken nose. Seconds later, he was hauled up by the back of his shirt by another man with huge, beefy arms, and he and his friend were tossed out of Slate.

Dazed and stunned by what had happened, I turned to the man who caused the ruckus, prepared to give him hell. I'll never forget that moment. He wore black slacks and a black button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair, long enough on top to run your fingers through, was a bit messy. His face was shaved, but a hint of stubble was starting to form. It was his eyes that left me speechless. Even in the dim light of the club, they held me captive. They were a beautiful green that reminded me of fresh-mown grass.

"Don't ever take a drink from someone you aren't well acquainted with."

It took me a moment to process his words and recognize his anger. I had to blink the haze of his good looks away before I could respond.

"Excuse me?"

"That bastard slipped something in the glass you were about to down," he explained. "Had I not been watching, you'd be out in the alley right now with your back scratched to hell while he fucked you, and you'd have no clue what happened tomorrow."

"You were watching me?"

Yes, that's what I asked. My first concern and thought was that this man, with ungodly looks, was watching me. Not that I was nearly drugged and more than likely would have been raped.

It wasn't until later that night, after Megan and I were home, and I told her what had happened, that I realized the dangerous situation I managed to dodge. And only because Hunter had been watching me. In fact, he noticed me the first time Megan and I were at Slate, and even told his bouncers if I showed up again to let him know.

That was the beginning of Hunter and me. He stole my heart that night and he never gave it back. A year later, we were married.

With that memory in mind, I gently set the picture back on his nightstand and continue putting the clothes away.

A couple of hours later, with the laundry done, the dishes put away, and only a thousand more words written on my manuscript—thank you writer's block—I'm sliding out homemade biscuits from the oven.

I've just put the pan on the stovetop when I feel strong arms wrap around my middle and a hard chest presses against my back. I smile as sandalwood invades my senses.

"Mmm… my favorite," Hunter mumbles with his face buried in the crook of my neck.

I tip my head to the side and grin. "That's why I make them. Because I know you love them so much."

"Not the biscuits," he responds huskily before he sucks my sensitive skin into his mouth.

A giggle escapes, and I press my ass into his groin. My hands curl into fists against the counter as a pulse begins in my clit.

He slips his hands beneath my shirt and trails them up my stomach, stopping just below my breasts. His lips release the suction on my neck and move to my ear.

"How is it possible, Mrs. St. James, that I've had you damn near every day for nearly two decades, and I can't seem to ever get enough?" he whispers.

My breath becomes choppy. "I don't know," I pant. "But please don't ever get enough."

"Never," he growls in that sexy voice that always sends a tingle between my legs.

One of his hands continues its trek until he's cupping my breast over my bra, while his other hand moves south. My breath catches in anticipation, and I moan when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my leggings. His fingers tickle the spot just above my clit. So close, but not close enough.

"Please, Hunter," I whimper, shifting my legs apart to get his fingers where I want them.

"What do you need?" His voice is guttural, like he's struggling for control.

"Touch me. Please touch me."

"Where?"

My nails dig into my palms, and I lift to my toes, becoming desperate, as I seek out his touch.

"You know where," I moan.

"Yeah, baby, I do." He licks a path up to my ear while he tweaks one of my nipples between his fingers. "But I want to hear you say it."

"My pussy." My face heats and moisture leaks from me. He loves hearing me say dirty words, even if it does embarrass me.

The words barely escape my lips before Hunter lets out a low growl and flicks his fingers wickedly over my clit. I cry out, instant pleasure making the sound hoarse. Sparks shoot from my clit and crawl through my limbs.

"Yes!" I hiss. "There. Oh God, please don't stop."

He does stop, but only to move his fingers further down to my drenched hole. While he hooks two fingers inside, he grinds the heel of his palm against my clit. I buck against his fingers, and his hips follow my movement, grinding his hardness against my ass.

"You're soaked," he groans. "Always so wet for me."

As he continues to send my body into a frenzy, I toss my head back against his shoulder, my mouth falling open on a silent moan. My orgasm builds, tightening the muscles in my legs and my lower stomach.

I'm seconds away from reaching my peak when his hands leave me. A protest falls from my lips, and I'm about to turn around and demand he continue, but then my leggings are being yanked down. Hunter steps on the crotch of them.

"Pull your foot out," he grunts, his hands now gripping my waist.

I only get one foot out before I'm spun around. The lustful look in his eyes has my desire ramping up.

Grabbing my hips, he spins us both so my back is to the island. Then I'm hoisted up until my bare ass is resting on the counter. He yanks me to the edge with one arm, grabs a handful of my hair, and smashes his lips against mine. My legs lock around his waist, and the denim of his jeans rubs deliciously against my aching center.

Our tongues slash together, his groan and my moan filling the room. Grabbing his T-shirt, I quickly pull the material up and our lips separate just long enough for him to pull it over his head. My nails score the rock-hard plains of his chest.

When his hands move between our bodies, I loosen my legs so he can unsnap his jeans.

I yank my lips from his when the head of his cock touches my wet pussy. Our gaze locks as he slowly slides inside.

"So goddamn tight; you take my breath away," he breathes out roughly, never moving his eyes from mine.

"Take me, Hunter," I rasp. "Remind me I'm yours."

The muscles in his jaw twitch and the lust in his eyes flares. Pulling out slowly, he returns just as leisurely.

What was once a mad dash to get him inside me as soon as possible has turned into something sweet and unhurried.

"Don't ever doubt you're mine, Cat. You'll always be mine."

Locking my ankles together, I dig my heels into his ass, begging him with the movement to go deeper. With his cock buried inside my snug heat, his slow thrusts stop. He grinds his pubic bone against my clit, and I let out a whimper.

"And you're mine. Only mine," I whisper against his lips.

A hissed breath pushes past his lips and he growls, "Yes. Only yours. Always."

"Always."

His movements become more frantic, his pelvis slamming against mine. Each thrust forward has him hitting my clit, sending me higher and higher. Our bodies slap together and my cries get louder, his grunts grow deeper. A bead of sweat slides down the side of his face and drips between our bodies.

Within minutes, after hitting a particularly sensitive spot inside me, the walls of my pussy clamp down on Hunter. Spasms ravage my body as sparks of white light drift through my closed eyes.

"Give me your eyes, Cat." I give Hunter what he wants. "That's it, baby," he whispers.

I hold his gaze through my orgasm, loving the intensity in his eyes as he watches me.

Just as my release begins to fade, Hunter's thrusts pick up speed and he finds his own. Buried to the hilt inside me, he grinds his pelvis against mine, knowing the added stimulation mixed with my lingering orgasm will bring on another.

Hunter rests his sweaty forehead against mine, and we stay like that for several long moments as we catch our breath. His hands run up and down my thighs, the rough texture of the calluses on his palms abrading my skin.

"I guess you had a good day at work," I remark, a smile on my lips as I press them against Hunter's.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, his eyes drifting down between our bodies as he slowly slides out of me. "Something like that."

I stay on the counter where I know Hunter wants me. I watch him grab a rag from the cabinet and wet it with warm water at the sink. He brings it to me, and I lean back on my hands, my legs spread, as he runs it over my swollen pussy. This is another thing Hunter likes to do. I asked him once why he always cleans me afterward and he said it's his job as my husband. From the look of contented concentration on his face, he not only feels it's his duty, but it's one he enjoys immensely.

"I love you," I whisper softly.

He looks up at me, his lips curving into the smile I adore. He throws the rag into the sink behind him and wraps his arms around my waist. Mine go around his neck.

"I love you too, baby," he replies just as softly.