He reaches across me, almost trapping me in the corner, to grab a box. His arm brushes against mine, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot right through my body. I'm standing here barefoot in my boxer shorts and tank, quickly realizing there’s no bra beneath. I cross my arms, trying to cover myself, the move catching his attention.
“Hangover already, I assume,” he notes in dark amusement.
I nod, but the movement feels like a jackhammer running through my head.
“I should've said no,” I groan, pressing my forehead. “I live in regret.”
“You were having fun,” Hunter points out, but then his expression turns wary. “Is Josh bothering you?”
“Josh? He's nice,” I respond honestly. “He asked me out to lunch and stuff, nothing big.”
“I don't look fondly upon workplace romances.”
“It's not a romance.” I almost laugh, though my head says don’t you dare. “I'm not interested in him if that's what you're inferring.”
“I'm just making sure you understand I do have some rules.”
As he hands me the Advil, I reach out, but the box falls to the ground. Great, hungover, and clumsy. I reach down to grab the box at the same time he does, but our hands touch accidentally.
The jolt shocks me again, causing me to whimper. I quickly swallow, refusing to look at him, knowing whatever I'm feeling right now is dangerous.
Repeat, Hunter Cash is April’s stepfather. I work in his company and sleep in his house. It’s wrong, forbidden, and the only reason why I'm feeling this is that I'm so desperate to physically connect with a man again. That’s it. Maybe any man will do.
I hear his own strangled breathing inside the small space, only inches apart. His hand extends to pass me the box, forcing me to gaze into his eyes to say thank you.
“Thank you,” I whisper, mesmerized by the eyes staring back at me. “I should probably go back to bed.”
“Of course.”
He helps me on my unsteady feet as I try to stand up. Once again, his grip on my hand lingers much longer than necessary. Unknown to him, I catch his eyes staring at my chest with a pained gaze.
My throat makes a sound, shifting his attention, but I turn around to leave the room. Suddenly, I stop in my tracks, turning back to face him.
“Do you actually live here?” I question out of curiosity. “Why haven't I seen you around?”
“I'm here when I need to be here,” he responds bitterly. “Anything else?”
The change in mood leaves me annoyed. Why does such a simple question goad some sort of reaction from him? Surely, a simple yes or no would suffice. But no, he turns into a jerk.
If he wants to act like one, I’ll torture him just as badly.
“Nope, I guess I’ll head back to my room to take care of my headache.”
His eyes narrow, knowing his mention of what cures headaches is directed at orgasms. Since I don’t have a guy, it looks like only I can cure my headache.
“You’re playing with fire,” he says in a low, grumbling tone.
“And you’re married,” I remind him. “Or are you only married when you want to be?”
Hunter lowers his eyes to the floor. “It’s not what you think.”
“I have no idea what to think.”
“Don’t you have a headache to take care of?” he asks, changing subjects to avoid discussing this weird arrangement between him and Kathy. “It’s late.”
“You’re right. Good night again, Hunter.”
A sly smile forms on his lips. “Good night, Alexandra Edwards.”