I’ve never seen Hunter this angry before. He got jealous of Anderson at Valerie’s party, but that was nothing compared to this.
I guess he didn’t really see Anderson as a threat.
The same can’t be said of Sherlock.
“I don’t like him,” I say softly, looking up at him, pleading with him to believe me. “I don’t. I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”
Hunter lets go of my shirt with one hand, sliding it up my neck and grazing the side of my face before pushing his fingers through my hair and making a fist. “No, not on purpose you wouldn’t,” he says quietly.
My stomach drops when I catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath.
He’s been drinking.
“But you can’t really help who you like, can you, Catnip? God knows if you could, I wouldn’t like you.”
I swallow, my heart skipping a quick beat. I look down just so I don’t have to look at him. “That’s mean, Hunter.”
He scoffs. “No, it’s not. You want to see mean?”
Still avoiding his gaze, I shake my head.
I know he’s angry, but beneath that he’s hurt, and I feel absolutely awful about it.
He lets go of my shirt and my hair. For a split second, I feel relief, but then he grabs my purse.
I’m so stunned, I scowl at him and try to grab it back. “What are you doing?”
He’s a hell of a lot stronger than I am, so he has no trouble ripping it away from me. “I want to see what you have in here.”
“What?” My heart drops when I remember what’s in that purse.
Oh no.
I reach for it. “Hunter, no. Give it back.”
His eyes narrow suspiciously.
Fuck. I’ve only interested him in the contents more.
I lick my lips, thinking fast, but I can’t come up with a way out of this.
He opens the purse.
“Hunter, don’t,” I plead, reaching for it again.
He pulls out my phone first, but doesn’t try to open it. He draws out my wallet next.
I close my eyes as he reaches into the bag one more time.
And pulls out a condom.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Riley
Accusation hangs heavy in the air as Hunter holds that small, foil-wrapped package between his fingers.
My stomach rocks so violently, I think I’m going to be sick.
I open my eyes and utter words I already know he won’t believe. “I didn’t bring that because I had any plans to use it. It was purely a precaution, and not for him—I put that in there after homecoming.”
Hunter closes his fist around the condom, squeezing it like he wishes it was Sherlock’s throat.
Or maybe mine. I’m not sure anymore.
“Were you going to fuck him tonight?”
My heart jumps to my throat. “No.”
As if I haven’t even spoken, he leans closer. Angrier. “Were you going to fuck him in my bedroom, Riley? Is that what you were going to do?”
“No.” I shake my head more desperately. “Hunter, you know I would never, ever do that.”
“You stole my idea and turned it against me. I knew you were mad at me about Valerie, but that is immensely fucked up.” I jump as he tosses my purse and all its contents on the floor and stalks over to me, his beautiful features twisted with anger.
“Hunter,” I say warily, putting my hands up like some kind of shoddy, makeshift barrier. “I didn’t. I wasn’t going to sleep with him. You have to believe me. I didn’t even kiss him—he kissed me, and it was only what you saw. We weren’t kissing before that.”
He grabs my arm, yanking me against his muscular body.
I gasp in surprise, but I don’t fight him.
“Did you want to fuck him, Riley?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous again. “I got your first time over with and opened you up for business. Now you tell me no. Were you gonna tell him yes?”
“No,” I cry, my heart sinking as he starts dragging me toward his bed. I try to push him away, but his grip on me is too tight. “I told you, I wasn’t going to—”
“Might not have mattered,” he interrupts. “He’s rougher than I am. More aggressive.” He locks his arm around my waist, crudely pulling me against him so I can feel how hard he is. “Do you know that already? Maybe you like it.”
My racing heart is already in my throat, then in a move he executes so quickly I can’t be sure what’s happening, he eases his grip, tugs me away from his body, spins me around, and shoves me forward onto his bed.
I catch myself, bracing my palms on the mattress.
I’m not afraid, not really, but… I am wary.
Hunter has always stopped when I told him to, but I’ve never encountered him drunk before, and right now he’s hurt and angry on top of it. When he got jealous of Anderson at Valerie’s party, he did get more aggressive—and that night he was sober. Alcohol isn’t known for calming aggression in people, as far as I know.