Like she was the only thing keeping him alive. The only thing that could.
He didn’t want to think about that. He wanted his name in her mouth. He wanted to hear it.
“If I say your name, will you stop hovering over me?” She sounded cross, exasperated, but he could see something else in those stormy winter eyes. Maybe what he wanted to see. Maybe the truth. “You’re making me anxious.”
“If you say my name, I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Fine.” But she held out another beat, then another. She swallowed. Then surrendered. “Hunter.”
“Was that so hard?” he asked, amused. “You didn’t fall apart. It’s only a name.”
He took his time sitting down, savoring this moment. First he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it aside carelessly, not taking his eyes off her. Then he settled himself down much too close to her, almost on top of her, grinning when she hissed in an annoyed breath. She went stiff and straight, and he relaxed, stretching his arm out on the high back, a single, easy crook of his elbow away from holding her in his embrace.
“You really enjoy invading the personal space of others, don’t you?” she asked frostily. But she didn’t move away.
“I’m a big guy.” He breathed in the sleek and expensive scent she wore, which wasn’t half as alluring as that hint of lavender he’d smelled on her skin before. “I can’t help it if I take up a lot of space.”
“You use your body as a weapon,” she retorted.
He took his time looking her over. Memorizing her, as if he wasn’t sure he’d get to be this close to her again. To that perfect, clever arch of her dark brows. To that stubborn, too-smart mouth, glossy tonight in the dim, flickering light. He could see her pulse catapult against the soft skin at her neck, telling him exactly what it cost her to sit this close to him. And yet she made no attempt to pull away, not even when his gaze moved even lower, until he nearly forgot himself completely in the tempting hollow between her breasts.
He wanted to taste her again more than he wanted his next breath. He had no idea how he held himself back—except he wanted her to want him, too. He wanted her to feel as outside her own skin as he did. As undone by this attraction.
This...thing that was gradually taking him over. What was left of him.
He nodded toward that smoky sin of a dress.
“Pot,” he said, then he indicated himself with a jerk of his hand. “Kettle.”
She regarded him for a long moment, that heady mix of awareness and wariness in her gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s a coincidence, then, that you happen to be wearing a dress that may in fact be painted directly on to your skin tonight. For your ‘meeting’ in this notably noncorporate environment, with a client you blackmailed into working with you. A client who knows what your inner thighs feel like beneath his hands. Not to mention how you taste.” He laughed. “I’m sure the fact you look edible played no part at all in your decision to wear it tonight.”
“It isn’t for you.” Her voice was lofty.
“You can’t use your body the way you do, Zoe, and then cry foul if others do the same.”
“I’m not an oversize man, all bulky muscles and caveman strength, lumbering through the world like a flat-footed thug.”
“Neither am I,” Hunter said, surprised to find he was grinning. “My feet have an adorable arch. Everybody says so. Want to see?”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, but he imagined he saw the slightest quirk in the corner of her mouth, like a laugh bitten back before it betrayed her. “And I don’t want to talk about your innumerable body flaws. I want to talk about your behavior toward my associates.”
“I’m suddenly significantly less interested in this conversation.”
“You can’t antagonize Daniel,” Zoe told him sternly. “You may not realize it, but you need him. Calling him names isn’t smart.”
“David is a punk,” Hunter said dismissively.
“His name is Daniel.”
“I don’t care what his name is.” Though he knew it, of course. He eyed her. “He’s in love with you.”
She didn’t deny it. “That’s one more thing that’s absolutely none of your business.”
“You’re not dating him, or you’d defend him. You’d tell me to go fuck myself.”
“I might tell you that anyway,” she retorted. “No matter who I’m dating.” She showed him that little smirk, and he felt it in his groin, as if she’d leaned over and licked the length of him there and then. He felt himself go hard like stone. Hot. But she was still talking. “I don’t know what it is about you that brings out the intense desire to do you harm. But then, I’m sure you get that all the time.”