“Now I’m definitely coming to this party,” Reese said.
“You weren’t invited,” Hunter pointed out, glaring. The last person he wanted around Gretchen was Reese, the epitome of a ladies’ man.
“You’re in the Brotherhood, Hunter,” Cade said with a slap on the back. “You know our rules. We’re all invited. Even the obnoxious ones like Reese.”
Hunter grunted in resignation. The teasing died back down again and they continued on for hours.
When they were ready to leave, Hunter pulled Logan aside. “I need your advice.”
“Oh? On what?”
“On Gretchen. I want to do something for her. Something that shows her how much I appreciate her.”
Logan gave him a wry smile. “Don’t buy her a diner.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just something I did for Brontë that backfired in my face. What did you have in mind?”
“Something . . . thoughtful. Not jewelry. She’s not a jewelry type.”
“Well, you dodged a bullet there,” Logan said. “Then again, jewelry makes it easy. Brontë’s not much of a jewelry type, either. Gets mad every time I try to buy her a necklace. The trick is you have to find something that you can do for her that no one else can.”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know what that would be. Property? It’s too much. Cars? Anyone can give her a car.” He didn’t share that he didn’t want to give her a car because he was afraid she’d spend her days driving away from the house. He liked that she was stuck there with him.
“You said she likes books, right?”
“She’s a ghostwriter.”
Logan shrugged. “There’s your answer. Something with books. Is she successful?”
Hunter considered this. “I don’t know. She writes astronaut books or some such.” It had seemed like an odd match to him—his silly, outspoken Gretchen writing overly masculine space pulp, but he didn’t question it.
“So buy them. Buy all of them.” Logan considered a new cigar, then put it down with a grimace. “I shouldn’t smoke this. Brontë doesn’t like the smell.”
“Buy all of them?” Hunter asked.
“All the books. Get her on the bestseller list or something. That would probably make her happy.”
The more Hunter thought about it, the more he liked the idea. “I’ll get Eldon on it right away.”
***
Hunter arrived home late that evening, his head slightly muzzy from cigar smoke and alcohol. He’d lost a fortune tonight at the table, but he couldn’t stop grinning. For the first time, he was able to smile when Reese told one of his ridiculous stories about women. He’d simply ignored comments about his own relationship without feeling excluded by the group.
For the first time, he didn’t feel like a freak amongst his friends—the scarred, lonely virgin.
Scarred, yes, but lonely and virgin? No longer.
He took off his tie and tossed it to the ground, then shrugged off his jacket even as he headed down the hall to his bedroom. His c**k grew hard at the thought of Gretchen waiting for him in his bed. Gretchen, soft with sleep, her bright red hair spilling across his pillow. Would she be naked, waiting for him? Her legs slightly open? He imagined dipping his fingers between them and stroking her awake, thinking of the soft, aching cries she’d make when he touched her there.
Suddenly his pants were too constricting. He stripped off his clothes while moving steadily across his room to his bed.
The room was dark, but he knew—he just knew—that Gretchen would be there waiting for him. A faint light shone through the open window, and in the moonlight he could see a rumpled mess of covers in his normally immaculate bed. On one side of the bed, a small figure was curled up in sleep.
He moved toward the bed, heart aching at the sight. Such a wonderful, exquisite sight—he’d never thought to have so much. He thought he would always be alone, reviled. Now, he had a woman—such a perfect woman—waiting for him to come home so he could make love to her. Was life ever so sweet?
He noticed something shiny on the nightstand and moved to touch it. It was a crinkle of packets, and Hunter laughed. An entire strip of condoms had been left at the bedside. Wishful thinking indeed.
She sighed and he noticed she was wearing one of his shirts. Ah. His c**k ached even harder at the sight. Hunter ripped one of the condoms out of the package and rolled it onto his cock, then moved to the edge of the bed.
Gretchen’s legs were bare and smooth, gleaming pale in the moonlight. They were slightly parted as she slept, revealing the cleft of her ass. No panties. Was she wearing anything other than his shirt? He groaned at the thought.
She rolled over and faced him, rubbing her eyes. “Hunter? Is that you?”
“Gretchen.” His voice was hoarse with need, even as he moved over her and began to kiss her jaw and throat. “I need you so badly.”
She moaned lightly, her legs spreading underneath him. “I was having dirty dreams about you,” she said. “Am I wet?”
He reached between her legs and groaned at the feeling of her. “Very wet.”
“Then come inside me,” she said in a soft, delicious voice.
Hunter didn’t need further encouraging. His fingers searched for the slick, warm opening and dipped a finger in as if to reassure himself that she was ready for him. He positioned his c**k there and sank deep, freezing at her sharp intake of breath.
“Ah, that’s so good,” she breathed. Her legs wrapped around his hips and locked behind him. “Fuck me hard, Hunter.”
He groaned, her words making him frantic with need. He wouldn’t be able to go slow. Not this time, not with her so sweetly willing. He thrust, rough and hard, and then couldn’t stop himself. Over and over, he thrust into her, every rocking push forward shoving them across the bed. Her soft whimpers of pleasure became deep, wild cries, and her nails dug into his back.
“Hunter, oh, God, Hunter. Take me deep.” She raised her hips and lifted her legs a little, pushing them higher up his sides. “Keep pushing forward.”
He did, the force of his next thrust pushing her knees to her br**sts.
She cried out in pleasure. “More!”
He did, giving her more. Every ounce of his being was determined to pound deep into her, to make it as good for her as it was for him—tight, hot, and oh so wet.