12. Hunter

HUNTER

I don’t have to be told twice to run. I barrel through these fuckers, throwing my elbows to get through.

Anyone who gets hit deserves that and more. Stella squeezes my hand in a death grip, and I squeeze hers right back as I drag us both through the crowd. When I can see past the paparazzi, I push the last few feet and break into a sprint. Stella stumbles and tries to keep up with me, but she’s been drinking and is wearing heels.

They shout our names, but I don’t bother looking back. Not when we need to find somewhere safe to regroup and call the police.

I scan the empty streets, looking for something, anything, but I’m so fucking lost. I don’t know New York well enough to even know where we are. The paps are chasing us, and even though we’re putting some distance between them, we can’t run all night .

“There,” Stella says, pointing to a building. The bright lights of a hotel have never looked so good.

“Stop them from entering and call the police,” I shout at the doorman.

The lobby passes in a blur as we rush to the elevator. I press the button for the eighth floor a million times.

“Come on, come on,” Stella mutters, both of us watching the lobby. Two men in black spin in a circle looking for us. When they spot us, they sprint toward us, cameras bouncing around their necks.

Shit. I smash the close-door button a million more times, and they finally slide shut just before the men make it.

“We’ve got to find somewhere to hide,” I say. “They’ll probably run up the stairs once they figure out what floor we’ve stopped at.”

She nods once, and when the doors open, we burst out of them, but there’s just room after room and no place to hide.

“Up.” Stella points to the stairs. It’s risky, but we can’t be on this floor. I nod and press a finger to my lips to remind her to be silent. We race up the stairs as fast and as quietly as we can.

“Shit,” I say when we arrive to another floor with nowhere to hide. “What now?”

“Here,” Stella calls. She pushes through the door marked housekeeping. Inside are two carts. Stella opens another door and pulls me inside. It’s pitch black, so I fumble with my phone and turn on the flashlight.

We’re in a cramped closet with extra towels, linens, and toiletries.

“How did you know this would be here?” I whisper.

“Nina works at a hotel,” she says, just as quietly.

“Are you okay?”

She shakes her head and tears fill her eyes. “Can you help me take my shoes off?”

It’s too cramped for her to bend over, so I sink to my knees and place my phone on the ground. She holds on to my hair as I lift a foot onto my knee. Once I unbuckle the strap, Stella sucks in a hurt breath. Her toes are bleeding and full of blisters, all at different stages of healing. What the fuck have her feet been through lately? But it’s the blood, the blood caused from running, that sends rage pulsing through me. I want to hunt down those fuckers and make every single last one of them pay.

When she whimpers, I kiss her ankle. “I’ll make sure those bastards serve jail time for what they’ve done to you.”

“I never want to see them again.” She squeezes her eyes shut, her breaths coming in short pants. “But I fear they’ll be in my nightmares.”

Her body shakes, and she gasps for breath. Standing, I pull her into a hug. “Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“But we’re not safe.” Her breaths come faster and faster. “We’re trapped in a closet that’s too small and we’re going to run out of air and die here.”

“I’ll give you every last drop of air in my lungs before that happens.”

“Don’t be cute,” she snaps. “Not when I’m about to have a panic attack.”

“How can I help?” My hands hover over her. I have no idea what to do. I’ve never experienced a panic attack before and honestly have never cared enough to help someone else if they were having one. That is, until now. Until Stella.

“Distract me.” She grabs my hands and places them on her tits. “Please? Make me feel like we’re in the club and not here.” She squeezes her eyes shut and whispers, “Anywhere but here.”

Desperate to help her, to make her feel better, I spin her around so that her back is facing my front. She’s got to get out of her head and stop thinking about the assholes chasing us. I hum the last song from the club, and grind into her. She remains stiff and frozen for a good minute before she slowly, oh so slowly, responds to me.

“I think I’ve found the first thing you can’t do,” she says, spinning to face me, her arms looping around my neck and playing with the hair at my nape.

“What’s that?”

“Sing.”

“Don’t be a brat.” I slap her ass. “You’re more than welcome to take over for me. ”

She grins and something loosens in my heart at the sight. That I can help her through her shit by just being me. That I’m enough for her just as I am. I’ve never had anyone call me out like she does while also accepting me as I am. It’s addictive.

She hums softly a different song, one of her own, and I nuzzle her neck. Licking and nipping at her silky skin, before forging a path down across her collarbones. Between her breasts. She pushes her chest into my mouth, and I grin.

“You want me to play with you here?” I ask, running my palm over the top that’s been tempting me all night.

“Yes,” she whimpers. “Make me forget.”

“Keep humming.” I slide my finger around the edges of the stretchy fabric of her top and inch by inch work it down until her perfectly puffy, pink nipples appear. “Fucking hell, of course you have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“There’s no need to lie,” she huffs.

I bite her nipple, hard enough to get her attention. She startles and I say, “If you ever call me a liar again, you’ll be punished.”

“What kind of punishment are we talking?” she asks. “One I’ll like? Because if so, that’s definitely not a deterrent and you’re now just encouraging me to misbehave. I think I might like being spanked and… Why haven’t you interrupted me yet?” She covers her eyes with her hand. “I need to be interrupted before I say more embarrassing things. ”

“I quite like what you’re saying.” I grin, and lap at her nipple. “Tell me what else you haven’t done.”

She shakes her head.

“Tell me,” I demand.

She sighs and looks to the ceiling. “Not a lot. My other partners weren’t adventurous.”

“Can I touch you here.” I point to her skirt, and she nods.

I sink to my knees and lift her skirt. Her black, lacey thong barely covers her. I trail my fingers around the outside of it, from the waistband down to her clit, and back up before dipping my finger between her ass cheeks. She jumps and I can’t help but smile. “Let me guess,” I say, “those other men also didn’t touch you here.”

“Correct, but when was the last time you washed your hands? I’m thinking a long time and that means they’re dirty and you can’t touch me now either.”

“Is that a challenge?” I laugh, pulling off her thong and pocketing it. “To make you come without using my fingers?”

“N… No?”

“I accept that challenge.” I talk over her, sliding her leg over my shoulder. “All you have to do is enjoy.”

“We should go, find Brian and—ohhhh.” She moans the last word when I lick her from slit to clit.

“You’ll have to be quiet.” I nuzzle her thigh. “We aren’t going anywhere. Not until I taste you and make you come. Make you forget about everything. ”

She stares at me in shock, and I ask, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

I nod, fully aware this doesn’t mean anything, but that doesn’t stop the excitement from zipping through me. I’ve dreamt about how she’d taste, and I selfishly need to know. I lap at her clit, not at all in a hurry, and moan. She tastes divine. I could eat her all day, every day and never tire of it, of her. My gaze is laser-focused on her face, reading every reaction she has. I need this to feel good for her. I need her to want this as much as I do. The wetter she becomes, the more I feast on her. Flicking, teasing, teeth grazing, my name a prayer on her lips.

“Oh God, oh God,” she chants, pushing her hips up, demanding more. “Hunter, please.”

I hold her ass firmly in my hands and suck onto her clit like I’ve discovered she likes before spearing her with my tongue.

Her entire body stiffens, and she slaps a hand over her mouth to quiet her moans of pleasure. What I wouldn’t give to hear her scream my name while she orgasms. My phone buzzes, the light jiggling with it, but I refuse to stop. Not when her pussy convulsing around my tongue is my new favorite feeling in the world.

When she finishes, I kiss her inner thigh and help her straighten her clothes. My dick is rock hard and needs relief, but given the fact that both of our phones are ringing, it looks like there won’t be time for that .

And for the first time, I don’t care. I’ve never walked away from a hookup without getting my own pleasure first. But with Stella, it doesn’t matter. Only her pleasure does, and I refuse to think too hard about what that means.

“Brian keeps calling,” she says.

“Good for him,” I say and kiss her hard on the lips. “Next time, we’re doing that somewhere where we don’t have to be quiet.”

“All right.” She says it shyly, as if surprised I want to do it again.

Brian calls again and Stella sighs. “Never thought I’d say this, but I wish we didn’t have to leave this closet. I really don’t want to debrief with him or talk to the police.”

“I know.” I kiss the top of her head. “But I’ll be there the entire time.”

The day after the incident, the press somehow got ahold of the police report we filed against every paparazzo there. Stella’s team put her on lockdown, insisting she stay home if she’s not performing. Her security has increased tenfold after the police discovered that her car’s tires were slashed while waiting at a traffic light and that’s why it didn’t arrive at the club to get us .

The next day, I video call her. When she answers, I ask, “How are you holding up?”

“It’s okay, but this just came.” She lifts the package I sent to her up and shakes it. “Shall I open it?”

“Please.”

She gives me a happy smile as she tears into the box.

“What’s this?” she whispers as she picks up the first item and shoots me a wide-eyed look.

“Epsom salt to soak your feet in, to help them heal. The silicon covers are for your feet. One goes over your toes and the other on your heels to help protect them from your shoes. And lastly, some chamomile tea for your throat.”

She stares at the contents of the box for a few beats before swallowing hard. “You did all of this for me?”

“Yeah. I wanted to help. Your feet were beat up and…” I shrug, not sure what else to say. I want to take care of her, even if I’m in a different city. I have a feeling her team doesn’t do it for her if she had that many blisters and cuts in the first place.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“Careful. If you keep doing things like this, I’m going to start assuming you’re sweet.”

“We wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?” I joke, but that’s exactly what I want to happen. Stella continuously sees the best in me, and it’s refreshing as hell. It makes me feel like anything is possible, like even us being together for real. Since the hotel closet, I’m beginning to believe the lie that maybe, just maybe, someone could actually choose me. But that’s a dangerous thought. My mom rejected me for not being enough, for not being like my brother, and I can’t risk that again. Even if being with Stella feels right, too right.

She laughs. “Definitely not.”

“Go get your feet in an Epsom salt soak now. Talk later?”

“Will do. Thank you…for everything.”

“I can’t take it anymore. I feel like a prisoner,” Stella says, her face drawn while we video. “It’s been two weeks and I can’t even go on a walk anymore. I don’t even know what the sun feels like on my face.”

“Why don’t you come visit me? I’ll keep you safe and we can hire a security team here to take care of us.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she says with a sigh. “Rachel insists I have to lie low still. She’s making me fly home every night after my shows since she doesn’t trust anyone.”

“She can’t keep you locked up like this. Let me talk to Rachel.”

“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that.” She grins for a few seconds, the first I’ve seen since the incident, before sobering. “It’s fine, I can make it work. I just…”

“What? ”

“Nothing.” She forces a smile, a fake smile. “I’m just tired.”

I wait her out, hoping she’ll tell me what’s wrong, but she doesn’t crack. “Where are you performing tonight?” I ask instead to distract her. It’s Friday, and our game was yesterday. I don’t have to rush back for our usual Sunday game and could come to her apartment tonight and surprise her.

She’s having a difficult time, and her team’s not taking care of her. Physically, they’re keeping her safe. But mentally? They’re doing nothing. And that’s unacceptable. I have this drive to help her, to support her, to be with her. Even though I don’t have any experience with love, I think that’s what I feel for her. But that can’t be right; it can’t be love. What’s between us isn’t even real. It doesn’t matter that she’s the first person I’ve ever wanted to be selfless with instead of selfish because I’m the stupidest person alive. I fell for my fake girlfriend.

“New Jersey,” she says. “At least I don’t have to go far to get home.”

“I have a feeling things will be looking up for you soon.”

“I hope so,” she says before looking to the side. “I’ve got to go. Talk later?”

When she hangs up, I immediately pack an overnight bag and book my flight to New York. Maybe I can feel her out while I’m there, see if it’s fake for her or not. Or maybe I should just throw out our contract and declare us as real. I chuckle, imagining the look on her face in reaction to that.

Brian informs me that he’ll allow me to wait in the lobby, but that I can’t enter the penthouse without her approval. So that’s what I do. I wait on a couch, dozing on and off as the hour gets later and later. Until sneakers squeak on the polished floor and I jerk my head up. Stella shuffles toward the elevator wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, her face drawn in exhaustion. She does a double take when she sees me and runs a hand over her sweaty ponytail.

“What are you doing here?” She looks around in confusion.

“Surprising you.”

“Well, you definitely accomplished that.”

I close the distance between us and pull her into a hug. “How was the show?”

“Good,” she whispers, gripping my T-shirt, hugging me just as hard as I’m hugging her. “But I need to shower. Let’s go upstairs.”

I keep my hand on her back while we ride the elevator up to her floor with two bodyguards.

“We’ll just clear the home first and then it’s all yours,” one says.

Stella nods and leans on me while we wait for them to check out her apartment. I don’t remember them doing that before, but I guess it’s part of her increased security. Once they finish, Stella says, “Make yourself at home. I’ll just shower real quick. ”

“Sure.”

Minutes later she pads into the kitchen in an oversized T-shirt and socks looking so fucking adorable. She heads straight to the fridge and surveys what’s inside.

“I hope you like grilled cheese sandwiches,” she says. “Because I’m hungry.”

“I love them.”

She grins and pulls out the ingredients. She opens a few cabinets and then a few more.

“Looking for something?” I ask.

“The pans?” She wipes her hands on her shirt and says, “And a spatula and the cover.”

I laugh. “Do you not use your kitchen often?”

“I’m not a good cook, too busy and all.” She grabs her phone and types out a quick message. It pings and she reads it and heads to the other side of the kitchen and pulls out all the things she needs, finding them easier now.

I’m not sure why I find it cute that she clearly doesn’t know her way around her kitchen, but it is.

She yawns and I guide her to a stool. “Let me cook for you.”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.”

“Park your fine ass there and let me cook,” I say.

“Fine.” She chuckles. “If you insist.”

“Do you want some tea? For your throat?” She gives me a confused look and I say, “I read that it helps singers, especially when they have many shows in a row.”

“You read up on how to help me?”

“Of course,” I say simply. “I also got you that.” I point to the two boxes on the table.

“More desserts?” she jokes and opens the biggest one first, full of peanut butter and chocolate fudge. She pops a piece in her mouth and moans. “Now this is what I call heaven.”

“Open the second one, too.”

She hesitantly opens the box, as if scared about what’s inside. She pulls out the thin bracelet with suns dotted on the band and her gaze flies to mine.

“It’s not as good as feeling the real thing on your skin,” I say, “but I thought you could carry around the sun with you since you miss it so much.”

She stares at the bracelet for a long time without saying anything. Oh shit. She hates it.

“It was a stupid idea,” I say, reaching for the bracelet, about to fling this thing into the garbage can. If I never see it again, it’d be too soon. What the hell was I thinking getting a billionaire such a stupid gift?

She pulls it out of my reach and glares at me. “I’ll hurt you if you even think to take this back.”

“Do you like it?” I ask softly.

“Like it?” She meets my gaze with tears in her eyes. “No, I love it.” She fastens it to her wrist, the same one with her navy woven bracelet. When she’s done, she holds her arm out in front of her, a soft smile on her lips. “I’m not used to getting presents.” She says it so quietly, I’m not sure I heard her correctly. But that can’t be right. People must be falling over themselves getting her things, but she’s looking at the bracelet like that’s not the case. Stella deserves to be pampered and spoiled, and it appears like the people in her life don’t appreciate her like she deserves.

Good thing she has me to rectify that. I plate up our sandwiches, and we eat them in silence. I’m not sure what she’s thinking about, but I’m not able to think about anything but her. She’s slowly becoming my sun, the star I orbit around, and I can’t keep my gaze off her.

“You’re staring,” she says.

“I can’t help it. You’re too mesmerizing.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

I give her a soft look and she jumps from the stool, quickly collecting the empty plates before dashing to the sink.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“The dishes.”

“That’s my job.” I try to take the plate from her, but she moves it out of my reach.

“No,” she says, “you cooked, so I clean.”

I grab the dish back from her. “That’s not how it works.”

“What are you talking about?” She grabs the dish from me again. “Of course, that’s how it works.”

“It’s not.” I steal the soap, and she spins toward me.

“Give that back,” she demands, hands on her hips .

“Make me.” I hold it out of her reach and wave it from side to side.

Instead of going for the soap, she grabs the back of my head and slams her lips to mine. The second our lips touch, all thoughts of dishes and soap disappear and all I can focus on is her. I’m so lost in our kiss that when she pulls back, I’m confused. That is until I see her smile, wide and bright, and the soap in her hand.

She bursts into laughter at whatever expression is on my face.

“You play dirty.” I tickle her ribs and she shrieks and wiggles, trying to get out of my hold. I grab her hips to keep her in place. “You thief—” We both freeze at the same time. My hands aren’t touching her shirt anymore, but bare skin. Which means she isn’t wearing any underwear. The breath whooshes out of me and I give her a heated look. “Do you sleep naked?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, yes, I would.” I should stop, pull away and pretend like this never happened. But my hands are having a difficult time getting the memo. Instead, they’re glued to her hips, my thumbs making small circles that send a shiver through her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she says, but she doesn’t pull away.

“Because it’s fake?” I ask.

She nods. “And it blurs the lines between us.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know…probably? ”

I move to pull away from her, but she places her hands on top of mine, keeping them on her hips.

“That wasn’t a no,” she says, spreading her legs a little more.

“But it also wasn’t a yes.” I trail my fingers across her hips to her front, right above her clit. “What’s your plan here?”

“I…” She trails off, her previous confidence disappearing between one breath and the next. Her wide eyes are full of a plea, but one I don’t understand. “I just need some stress relief. Is that a problem?”

Is it? I’m not sure. It implies that she wants to keep what’s between us fake, but it also doesn’t match her earlier statement that being intimate blurs the lines or the fact that she wants my hands on her. It’s confusing, and I’m not sure what to do. Of course, I’m dying to touch her again, to have her for real. But she’s also more than a one-night stand for me, and until she understands that, I don’t want to have sex. Either way, we’re going to have a conversation about that status of our relationship tomorrow morning after we both get some sleep.

“I’ll happily provide you relief,” I say. “Anytime, anywhere. But you’ll only get my fingers tonight.” I slide my fingers between her legs and swirl them through her wetness. “Is this all for me?” She moans when I add a second finger inside of her.

She nods and grips the edge of the counter. When I add a third finger and scissor them, she makes a garbled sound.

“Does this feel fake?” She nods and I bite her neck. Squeezing her breast with my free hand, I pump my fingers inside her. “How about now?”

She moans and I tug at her nipple. “Or now?”

I suck on her neck, and she detonates in record time. Stella orgasming is my new favorite sight in the world.

When her body stops shuddering, she turns in my arms and kisses me. Kisses me like she’s ready for more. Kisses me like maybe she likes me.

“What about you?” She places her hand on my dick, and it jumps, as if trying to get closer to her.

“I don’t care about me.” I place my hands on hers and bring them to my lips, kissing her palms. “You’re not a random hookup, you’re more.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, once we’ve slept.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“You’ll like it, I promise.” I grin and back up toward the hallway. “Just show me which room I can use.”

“All right, then, you can take this room.” She playfully pushes me toward the first door on the left.

I glance inside. “I’m supposed to sleep in a bathroom?”

“Oops.” She grabs the front of my shirt and guides me to the next door. “I meant this one.”

“I’m just glad it’s not a closet.” I laugh and kiss her again. “But I wouldn’t mind, not if it means I get to be close to you.”

“Go to sleep, Casanova.” She grins and walks away, but I grab her arm after she’s made it two steps and pull her back into me to kiss her once again. I can’t get enough. It’s playful and slow and I force myself to end it before it becomes more. Before I throw her onto the bed and have my way with her.

“Good night, beautiful,” I say, kissing her one more time before shutting the door in her face, just like she did to me in the hotel room.

She laughs and says, “Good night, Casanova.”