15. Cara

Chapter 15

Cara

Hunter goes ahead, turning on just one dim light in the bathroom. Suddenly I can see him properly—and realize he’s about to see me fully naked, too. He’s touched me. Licked and sucked at me.

And sure, we were looking at each other up close, but it was basically dark.

Now it’s…more real.

Nervously, I go as far as the edge of the bed, and then I wait.

He turns on the water, then strides back into view. Backlit by light behind him, he’s extra-giant. Long, thick legs. A heavy core. Big arms that come up and hook on the top of the door frame as he looks right back at me .

“You coming?” he asks.

My heart leaps into my throat and I nod.

Sliding off the bed, I try not to be self-conscious of my body wiggling and wobbling.

But I’m nervous anyway—until I reach him in the doorway and he pulls me against him, dipping his head to kiss me.

When Hunter’s kissing me, everything is just fine. Better than fine. Everything is amazing.

“Get in the shower,” he murmurs. “I need to put these in the laundry hamper.”

He points down at his boxer briefs.

I blush.

I’m under the spray when he returns, the steam swirling around us, but nothing could interfere with my first look at his cock.

It sways like a long, heavy truncheon in front of him.

“He won’t bite,” Hunter says slowly, smiling cautiously when I jerk my gaze up to meet his eyes.

“I might,” I say in a rush. “He looks tasty.”

He laughs under his breath. “Pass the soap.”

I hand over a nice smelling bar, and he lathers up. Letting me watch, putting on a bit of a show.

He pushes the suds across his meaty chest first, the dark curls there catching the bubbles. Then his hand trails down over his belly to his cock. He circles it in a loose ring of his fingers, working the soap up and down his shaft before cupping his hand over his balls and tugging there, too.

I’m staring. Rudely, probably. Eyes bugging out.

Stop staring, Cara .

The lecture in my head doesn’t work.

“Do you want to help?” Hunter’s voice is low and silky. “After all, you’re the one who made me come in my shorts like a teenage boy.”

“I’m sorry,” I gasp.

He takes my hand in his, sudsy bubbles transferring. “It’s okay, baby. Get me clean.”

I feel faint as he guides my hand to grip his cock. It’s so firm, with a real weight to it, and it feels alive.

Duh. Obviously.

But like…it moves .

That’s what it will feel like inside me. Alive and moving and heavy.

Shivering, I slide my wet hand down to the base of him, where thick dark curls have been trimmed short.

And then below his cock, I mimic how he touched himself, curling my fingers around his balls.

He groans and backs me up against the cool tile.

“Come here,” he grinds out as he tips my head back, and then we’re kissing deeply, a little less uncoordinated than our other kisses. More desperate.

I lift my leg, curling it around his thigh, and he scoops his hands under my ass, lifting me onto my toes. Our wet bodies fit together perfectly.

So perfectly, nothing feels more natural than pulling the head of his cock to my entrance.

“Not here, Cara,” he rasps.

I roll my hips, aching for more of the steady, delicious pressure. “Why not?”

“Because…” He exhales roughly and flexes his thighs. Not pushing into me, but not pulling away, either. “Because I don’t want to swallow your cries. I want to take my time, stretch you out on my bed, and I want to see your face. Hear your sounds. Because I want this so fucking much, and I don’t want to rush to it.” He takes another quick breath. “And because it’s been a long time and just being pressed up against you is enough to make me come again.”

“So?” That sounds amazing. I want to make him come right now. I rub us together again just to see what happens.

“So I’d like to last more than a…” He groans and clutches me tighter against him. “More than a hot fucking second.”

“But if this second is really fucking hot,” I tease. “Then maybe it’s worth it?”

“Oh fuck.” He’s panting now, his gaze blown out with lust. “You want to make Daddy come like this? Just teasing me? Don’t even have the tip inside you?”

“Yes. Yes!” I jerk my hips faster, rocking him against my slick entrance. “Make a mess on me.”

“If you make me spill all over your little pussy, I’m going to have to get on my knees and lick you clean.”

“You say that like a threat,” I gasp, my clit literally pulsing at the notion. “But it really feels like a promise.”

He doesn’t reply to that, just moans, and I’ve never felt anything as powerful as reducing this man to simple noises. I hump against his cock faster and faster, until he thrusts against me, his cock shoving up between our bodies, and finds his release, punctuating it with three ragged grunts.

Both of us go silent. His chest heaves. His come-slicked cock slides down my thigh as he pulls away, setting me down on both feet. His gaze is hot and primal, raw and unguarded, and he doesn’t break eye contact as he drops to his knees .

“You ever get yourself off in the shower, sweet girl?”

I shiver despite the hot steam and nod. “With the shower head.”

“What do you think about?” He lifts my thigh, hooking it over his shoulder the same way I hooked it around his leg when we were both standing.

I close my eyes and remember. “I imagined a man I thought I would never meet in real life. I imagined his fingers on me.”

Hunter’s thumb grazes my aching, sensitive flesh.

My heart pounds.

“I imagined…his breath.”

Hunter presses his face to my belly and exhales.

“Yes…”

“Did you imagine his fingers inside you?”

“Yes…”

Hunter works one big finger in me up to his knuckle, then adds a second. Stretching me for what’s going to come tomorrow or the day after .

It’s well into Christmas Day, now. In a few short hours, everyone is going to wake up.

How long do I have to wait until everyone leaves?

How long until Hunter tells them how he feels about me?

They’ll leave after that.

It’ll be awkward.

They might even label me as trouble.

But it’ll be worth it, because Hunter will bring me back to his bed and he’ll finally make love to me.

“What else, baby girl?”

“I imagined your mouth…licking me…”

He gives me that fantasy, the one that always got me there really fast. The one where licks turn to harder sucks and quick bites and then fluttering passes on my clit, in time with the slow, steady thrusts in and out of me, getting me there, closer closer closer?—

“You,” I cry out, breaking for him. “I imagined you.”

“That’s so beautiful,” he growls before he latches on to my clit and I fall into fireworks, clutching at his head, holding on for dear life.

Hunter stays on his knees, breathing into my belly and holding me up, until I straighten up and pat his head.

Fatigue rolls through me as I tip my face into the steamy spray.

He waits until I turn back to him, then he takes the shower head wand and uses it to rinse us both off.

He turns the shower off, then grabs an oversized towel and wraps me in it. “Wait here a minute,” he murmurs.

He disappears, then returns with a big robe and another towel, which he slings around his waist after putting the robe on me.

“Back to bed for you,” he whispers.

I get as far as the foot of his bed, and then I sit down there.

He grins at me as he towels off.

We don’t talk.

I just watch him as he finds the silly Christmas PJs Hannah bought everyone. He looks like a candy cane. Like an extra-thick, extra long candy cane.

He doesn’t look embarrassed at all.

Once he’s dressed, he eases me back to my feet and nudges me through his sitting area and toward his door.

In the hallway, I hold my breath. It’s only ten, maybe fifteen feet to the spare room, and the house is entirely still.

We make it to the spare room without detection, and he comes inside with me.

“Do you want to sleep in the robe?” He tugs on the collar, pulling me close so he can kiss me. “Or naked?”

“Or…the candy cane PJs?”

He shrugs. “Tradition.”

I nod. “Tradition it is.”

He peels his robe off me and hangs it on a hook, then dresses me like a smaller, curvier matching candy cane.

I crawl into bed and he follows. I look at him in surprise.

“I’ll go back to my room once you’re asleep.” He kisses my forehead. “And in the morning, we’ll figure out the next steps, because tomorrow night, you’re sleeping in there with me.”

I can’t find my phone when I wake up. It’s not completely dark out the window, and I hear a bit of movement, so I let myself get out of bed. There’s a fine line between being excited about Christmas morning and being too eager to see your friend’s dad again. If Hannah’s already awake, I need to play it cooler than I probably know how to.

It feels weird to just go downstairs in my PJs without a bra on when I barely know half the people in the house. So I take a minute to put underwear on under the candy cane fright before I step out into the hallway.

Hannah’s door is still closed, but there’s a light on downstairs. I creep down to the foyer and find Hunter in the kitchen, quietly making coffee.

He lifts his head as I approach, and my breath catches in my throat.

Hi , he mouths.

And it’s exactly the same way he did when I saw him in the coffee shop. I was so nervous when I saw him, because he seemed so out of my league, like what was I even doing asking this man for a first kiss?

Now he’s slow rolling me through all of my firsts, and I’m nervous for a whole different reason. It feels like everyone is going to know I spent the night in his bed. That I didn’t get much sleep because we kept talking and kissing and…

Hunter crooks his finger. Come here. I glance sideways, but nobody else is up yet.

“Hi,” I whisper as I come to stand right in front of him.

“You’re blushing,” he murmurs. “That’s so beautiful.”

That echo of what he said when he was between my thighs in the shower doesn’t help the heat rolling through me at all .

He ducks his head so his lips brush my ear. “Are you thinking about me eating you out?”

I gasp and press my hands to my cheeks. “Yes.”

“Fucking proud of putting that look on your face, I’m not going to lie.” Hunter presses a coffee cup into my hand. “Here you go. Vanilla latte for a very yummy girl. Think of passive solar houses or cell division or something else science-y while I get breakfast started.”

“Do you need help?”

He takes a deep breath, and a glance down at the candy cane PJ bottoms tells me I’m not the only one affected by our morning reunion.

I lick my lips. “Would it be more help if I go check out the Christmas tree or something?”

“Or something, yeah.” He bites his lower lip, his gaze hooded and hot. “Merry Christmas, sweet girl.”

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” I whisper before twirling away with my coffee.

In the living room, Wyatt and his partners are still sleeping. I creep past them and go into the library. This part of the house is under the entrance to Hunter’s room upstairs. There’s a door off it that has glass panels on either side, and through those I can a big desk and an even bigger drafting table.

“That’s his den,” someone says from behind me.

I glance back .

Wyatt waves sleepily at me from the couch.

“Good morning,” I say softly.

Emily raises her head. “Is there coffee?”

“Yep,” I say, lifting my mug.

Wyatt swings his legs off the couch, but Emily stops him. “I’ll get it.”

“Full service at the North Pole. I like it,” he teases.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll make myself a useful elf and be right back.”

While she heads to the kitchen, I look at the Christmas tree. An absurd number of presents are piled under and around it. I didn’t bring anything with me, because I didn’t know it would be like this.

I can’t even remember clearly what kind of emotionally unavailable mess I thought I was coming into here. The reality has been so far from that, it’s silly. The Danes are over the top, but they’re so loving.

I wonder if I could sneak out and go to the truck stop at the highway, and what I could buy Hunter there that would show just how special it has been to share his family Christmas. And should I borrow a car or?—

“Merry Christmas!” Hannah hollers from the top of the stairs before galloping in to make her grand entrance.

Time’s up.

I take a big swallow of coffee and brace myself.