Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(69)

After scrolling through movies to rent, we selected      the new James Bond movie.

“Want some Chex Mix?” Hunter asked after it      started.

I groaned, rubbing my stomach. “I can’t eat for      another month.”

“I’ll have some.” Lila pushed PAUSE as Hunter headed downstairs, then directed a      hard stare at me.

“All right, so what’s the plan?”

I shook my head. “Plan?”

“Yeah . . . you want me to fake a      headache so you two can have some alone time?”

I shook my head. “No, no. Don’t do that. I want to      spend some time with you, too.”

“We’re shopping tomorrow and doing lunch. We’ll      have the whole day. This is the only time you two have before you head back on      Sunday.”

“It’s fine, really,” I hissed as I heard his      returning steps thudding on the stairs.

“Here he comes,” she whispered, giving me a knowing      wink and settling back into the corner of the couch. She punched PLAY on the remote.

I shook my head at her, hoping to convey that she      shouldn’t invent some excuse to leave me alone with her brother.

Thirty minutes later, she released an exaggerated      sigh. “I’m really tired. Guess turkey really does make you sleepy, huh?” She      unfolded her sleek dancer legs that she had tucked under her and rose gracefully      to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Need my beauty sleep. Especially if we’re going      to hit all those sales in the morning. I’ll pick up you up at seven, Pepper.      Okay?”

I glared at her as she waved good night.

Hunter smiled easily at me. I forced a smile back,      willing away my sudden discomfort. I turned my attention back to the movie, but      didn’t really see anything. Just images flashing on the screen that I couldn’t      process.

His arm stretched along the back of the couch      behind me. I felt it there, the fingers grazing softly at my shoulder. I noted      the passing of minutes on the digital clock on the Blu-ray player. Ten minutes.      He shifted on the couch. The graze of his fingers was a full-blown touch.      Fifteen minutes. His fingers moved, stroking my shoulder in small circles.

My stomach knotted with anxiety, torn between      wanting him to make a move and wanting to flee. Was he waiting for an      invitation? I couldn’t help thinking that Reece would have acted by now. I’d be      under him. Or over him. We’d have half our clothes off and his hands would be      everywhere. My pulse jackknifed against my throat, remembering how it was with      him.

Suddenly I found myself staring at Hunter, studying      his profile. Even though his hand stroked my shoulder, he was watching the      movie, following the characters through the action scenes. He must have sensed      my stare. He turned. I held his gaze.

“Pepper?” His voice fell softly, hesitant and      inquiring.

I closed the distance and kissed him. Pushed my      lips against his own and serious-as-a-heart-attack kissed him, willing myself to      forget Reece in the taste of him.

He was motionless for a second before reacting.      Before kissing me back. He was a good kisser. I recognized that at once. He knew      what to do. With his lips. His tongue. His hand came up to hold my face like I      was something precious and fragile. Even so, I didn’t feel it. The zing, the      consuming ache filling every inch of me.

Sensation didn’t slam through me like it did with      Reece. Had. Like it had      with him. I reminded myself of that. Had. It was      over.

Desperate, frustrated for something to be there      between us, for me to feel something—Oh, God, anything—with Hunter, I climbed up on my knees and straddled him,      never breaking my mouth from his.

He stilled, obviously startled, for half a second      before his mouth resumed kissing. He was definitely into it now, groaning when I      nipped at his lip, sucking it between my teeth. His hands skimmed down my back,      his palms stroking up and down rhythmically.

I tore my lips from his and kissed his jaw, his      neck, sucking at the warm skin.

His hand buried in the back of my hair. “God.      Pepper. What are you doing to me?”

His words sank inside my mind, forming into a very      real question. What was I doing?

The answer came back to me, clear and ugly,      resounding like a bell in my ears. Using him. Searching for something, desperate      to feel with him what I felt when I was with Reece.