Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,37

me like a deep massage, and I closed my eyes as the droplets trailed over my skin.

Hot liquid streamed down my cheeks, but I couldn't tell if it was the water or my tears. The past few days had been fraught with uncertainty and surprises, and despite my resolve to overthrow my father, I was overwhelmed by the possibility of everything and the knowledge of absolutely nothing.

My life felt like it was falling apart at the seams, and I briefly wondered if I had the strength to sew it back together.

Jesus—what was happening to me? I wasn't a teenage girl whose life was falling into disarray.

I was a motherfucking mafia princess who owned an empire.

I wiped at my cheeks and grabbed my shampoo. I had to formulate a plan to deal with the immediate issue; the testosterone fueled bitching between Hunter and Gaige. I wasn't going to deal with it. I wasn't the kind of woman who found it thrilling.

I found it annoying. You wanna fight? Okay, sure. Get the fuck outside and deal with it your fists. You're not teenagers. Settle the score once and for all and get over yourselves.

My tolerance for that petty bitchiness they'd exhibited earlier was at a firm zero.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped my body and hair in the towels, then killed the water. I hoped Hunter wasn't still mad—I wanted to talk to him about Gaige. I didn't know why I felt the need to explain myself. I didn't need to explain myself, not to him, to Gaige, to anyone. But I wanted to.

It worried me. I didn't want to want to want to explain. I didn't want to want anything except for revenge on my father, and I certainly didn't want to want anything to do with Hunter.

Once I was dressed and had braided my wet hair, I went downstairs and in search of him. I found him at the back of the house, the room Darien dubbed his 'man cave.' It was different to the rest of the house in the sense it had his personal style in everything from the dark wooden floors to the striped curtains. In it lived the largest television screen I'd ever seen, plus a pool table right in the middle.

Hunter was at the pool table, smashing the balls around it. I paused in the doorway and watched him. His wet t-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, his muscles hinting through the thin material, from his shoulders right down to where I could see at the top of his stomach. His biceps stretched against the arms of it, and he bent down, seemingly unaware of my presence, and potted a spotted ball perfectly.

“Here.” He held out the pool cue. “Wanna play?”

Well that was strange. “Uh, I'm good. Do you want some dry clothes? You're probably the same size as Darien, right?”

“Probably.” He bent down again and hit a striped ball. It bounced out of the mouth of the pocket, coming to rest in the center of the table. “Crap.”

“Let me go see what I can find.”

“No underwear.” He looked up and smirked as he got in position behind the white ball.

“Got it.” I grimaced and walked through the house to the laundry room.

There was nothing weirder than going to find him clothes while he played pool. How did he even know where that room was? Or that it existed? Maybe he just needed something to do before he left and killed Gaige.

I found a t-shirt and a pair of jeans in Darien's clean laundry pile. For the first time ever, I wasn't mad about his failure to put away his clean clothes. I smiled to myself as I took them back to the man cave and handed them to Hunter.

I didn't know what I expected, but it wasn't for him to put down the pool cue and whip his shirt over his head. I blinked several times before turning away. His laughter echoed through the room, but I bit down on the inside of my lower lip and kept my eyes on the floor.

It wasn't like I'd never seen a guy without clothes on, and I wasn't afraid to see a guy without clothes on.

He was just... different.

He was Hunter.

“You can turn around now,” he said in a low voice, laughter hinting at each word.

I let out a sigh of relief and turned. “Thank y—” I sucked in a sharp breath as my breasts brushed against his chest.

His. Bare. Chest.

“Where's