Treasured by Thursday
Page 67
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Gabi leaned a hip against the counter and smiled.
Hunter stopped before he entered the kitchen. “Hi, honey . . . I’m home.”
The laughter that erupted wasn’t expected.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” he said.
She kept giggling. “I see the busses missed their mark again.”
Now he laughed as he walked into the middle of the kitchen, tossed his jacket and the flowers on the counter, and captured her around the waist. This was all they’d really managed over the past few weeks . . . a kiss. Yet each one was charged and full. Each one kept her up at night.
When Hunter drew his lips away, he hummed. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smoothed back a lock of hair from his forehead.
“This is a first.”
“What is?”
“Walking into the front door of my home and finding a beautiful woman cooking.”
“Our home,” she corrected. “And good.” She pushed away. “Maybe tomorrow I won’t ask that a bus take my blackmailing husband out.”
Hunter placed a mocking hand to his chest. “I’m touched.”
Gabi lifted a brow. “Not yet.”
His smirk dropped and something a whole lot sexier took its place.
She turned on her heel and made a show of checking the ziti in the oven.
Hunter grabbed her from behind, turned her around so fast she couldn’t think, and pinned her against the counter. He robbed her of coherent thought as he tested the endurance of her molars with his tongue. Out of control, Hunter was a force. One she loved to unleash.
Something soft hit the floor and Hunter’s arms were molding her body to his. The buzzer on the oven didn’t break their connection. It had been too long, and they were both hungry.
She slapped the oven, cracked it open before Hunter dragged her away from her dinner.
Halfway up the stairs, he stopped trying to kiss her, leaned over, and tossed her over his shoulder.
A little breathless, and laughing more than she ever had, he tossed her on the bed and pounced.
She welcomed him into her arms, curled her legs around him, and rolled until she was straddling his hips.
His hands traveled inside her shirt and played with the edges of her bra.
Gabi tugged on his tie without releasing the knot as Hunter rid her of her blouse.
She pulled the tie from over his head and slid it over hers.
He growled. “That tie is forever branded.” He used it to pull her close as he kissed her senseless.
He was hard.
And she was hungry.
Her bra found the floor, his shirt . . . until only the tie remained. “I need to be inside you, Gabi.”
“Please.” She reached for a box of condoms she’d bought and placed under his pillow. “Let’s burn through these.”
Hunter’s smile filled his gray eyes, his laughter echoed in the nearly empty room. Then he was there, filling her, completing her.
Seemed every time they’d managed to make love since Dallas, her resolve to stay distant became nothing more than a memory. In Hunter’s arms she was alive, loneliness left her alone, and passion took its place.
When he’d rocked her universe, twice . . . Gabi wasn’t hungry at all.
Later, the candles were glowing along with the fire Hunter had started in the master bedroom. She wore his shirt, his tie, and he donned boxers while they enjoyed her slightly dry ziti and a lovely bottle of wine.
“A kitchen and a bedroom . . . it’s all we need.” Hunter shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth.
“You could be on to something there.”
He leaned forward and ran his finger along her lip before licking the sauce away.
“House parties would be easier without a mess of furniture.”
“True, but where would people sit?”
“Bring your own lawn chair?”
Gabi imagined the massive living room filled with wicker and plastic. “I don’t think that will work.”
He took another bite. “This is so good.”
“It’s dry.”
“It’s perfect.”
“It would have been perfect if we’d eaten it an hour ago.”
Hunter wiggled his eyebrows.
Gabi shook her head and tried not to blush.
“We need to make a decision on the furniture,” Gabi insisted.
He broke off a piece of bread before popping it into his mouth. “What’s the hurry?”
“Child Protective Services.”
He stopped chewing and stared.
“I’ve been doing some research. As much as you need to find Hayden’s mother unfit, Child Protective Services is going to use that same microscope on us. A furnished and safe home is only the beginning.”
Hunter leaned back, unconcerned. “Furniture doesn’t determine a decent home.”
“Neither does money. Statistically, the mother is often given custody even when the scale dips in the father’s favor, which means we need to dip that scale deep.”
“I have the deeper pockets.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Hayden is in his biological mother’s custody.”
“A biological father has rights.”
Gabi picked at her food while she talked. “Your case for full custody is stronger if she’s unfit and you’re a saint. That’s why we needed to get married, right?”
“I’m not a saint.”
Gabi stopped chewing and stared. “Thank you for the clarification that this woman doesn’t need. Point being, you’re too rich to leave loose unsaintly ends, and she’s too self-centered to think you’re going to petition for custody. There’s only one factor I don’t think either of us has considered.”
Hunter stopped before he entered the kitchen. “Hi, honey . . . I’m home.”
The laughter that erupted wasn’t expected.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” he said.
She kept giggling. “I see the busses missed their mark again.”
Now he laughed as he walked into the middle of the kitchen, tossed his jacket and the flowers on the counter, and captured her around the waist. This was all they’d really managed over the past few weeks . . . a kiss. Yet each one was charged and full. Each one kept her up at night.
When Hunter drew his lips away, he hummed. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smoothed back a lock of hair from his forehead.
“This is a first.”
“What is?”
“Walking into the front door of my home and finding a beautiful woman cooking.”
“Our home,” she corrected. “And good.” She pushed away. “Maybe tomorrow I won’t ask that a bus take my blackmailing husband out.”
Hunter placed a mocking hand to his chest. “I’m touched.”
Gabi lifted a brow. “Not yet.”
His smirk dropped and something a whole lot sexier took its place.
She turned on her heel and made a show of checking the ziti in the oven.
Hunter grabbed her from behind, turned her around so fast she couldn’t think, and pinned her against the counter. He robbed her of coherent thought as he tested the endurance of her molars with his tongue. Out of control, Hunter was a force. One she loved to unleash.
Something soft hit the floor and Hunter’s arms were molding her body to his. The buzzer on the oven didn’t break their connection. It had been too long, and they were both hungry.
She slapped the oven, cracked it open before Hunter dragged her away from her dinner.
Halfway up the stairs, he stopped trying to kiss her, leaned over, and tossed her over his shoulder.
A little breathless, and laughing more than she ever had, he tossed her on the bed and pounced.
She welcomed him into her arms, curled her legs around him, and rolled until she was straddling his hips.
His hands traveled inside her shirt and played with the edges of her bra.
Gabi tugged on his tie without releasing the knot as Hunter rid her of her blouse.
She pulled the tie from over his head and slid it over hers.
He growled. “That tie is forever branded.” He used it to pull her close as he kissed her senseless.
He was hard.
And she was hungry.
Her bra found the floor, his shirt . . . until only the tie remained. “I need to be inside you, Gabi.”
“Please.” She reached for a box of condoms she’d bought and placed under his pillow. “Let’s burn through these.”
Hunter’s smile filled his gray eyes, his laughter echoed in the nearly empty room. Then he was there, filling her, completing her.
Seemed every time they’d managed to make love since Dallas, her resolve to stay distant became nothing more than a memory. In Hunter’s arms she was alive, loneliness left her alone, and passion took its place.
When he’d rocked her universe, twice . . . Gabi wasn’t hungry at all.
Later, the candles were glowing along with the fire Hunter had started in the master bedroom. She wore his shirt, his tie, and he donned boxers while they enjoyed her slightly dry ziti and a lovely bottle of wine.
“A kitchen and a bedroom . . . it’s all we need.” Hunter shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth.
“You could be on to something there.”
He leaned forward and ran his finger along her lip before licking the sauce away.
“House parties would be easier without a mess of furniture.”
“True, but where would people sit?”
“Bring your own lawn chair?”
Gabi imagined the massive living room filled with wicker and plastic. “I don’t think that will work.”
He took another bite. “This is so good.”
“It’s dry.”
“It’s perfect.”
“It would have been perfect if we’d eaten it an hour ago.”
Hunter wiggled his eyebrows.
Gabi shook her head and tried not to blush.
“We need to make a decision on the furniture,” Gabi insisted.
He broke off a piece of bread before popping it into his mouth. “What’s the hurry?”
“Child Protective Services.”
He stopped chewing and stared.
“I’ve been doing some research. As much as you need to find Hayden’s mother unfit, Child Protective Services is going to use that same microscope on us. A furnished and safe home is only the beginning.”
Hunter leaned back, unconcerned. “Furniture doesn’t determine a decent home.”
“Neither does money. Statistically, the mother is often given custody even when the scale dips in the father’s favor, which means we need to dip that scale deep.”
“I have the deeper pockets.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law. Hayden is in his biological mother’s custody.”
“A biological father has rights.”
Gabi picked at her food while she talked. “Your case for full custody is stronger if she’s unfit and you’re a saint. That’s why we needed to get married, right?”
“I’m not a saint.”
Gabi stopped chewing and stared. “Thank you for the clarification that this woman doesn’t need. Point being, you’re too rich to leave loose unsaintly ends, and she’s too self-centered to think you’re going to petition for custody. There’s only one factor I don’t think either of us has considered.”
