Just Home for the Holidays - Deborah Cooke Page 0,23

there’s rules number two and three, so I can’t take advantage of inside information. It’s very low risk, Chloe.”

He probably had women sext him all the time.

“Since when did my rules stop you from doing anything?”

“That’s all minor stuff. Have no fear about number three.”

“Why?” Didn’t he find her attractive?

“Because no means no, and number three means no.” He spoke firmly, then sighed so that she knew he was going to joke again. “It’s the one rule I won’t break.”

“Sounds sacred.”

“It is. No means no. That’s what my sister Char taught us and she made sure we believed it.”

“We?” Chloe echoed.

Hunter cleared his throat. “All us guys.”

Chloe smelled evasion, if not a lie. Hunter had a sister. Why didn’t he visit her on the holidays? And us. That sounded like he was referring to more than a bunch of buddies. What was it about Hunter Tate that gave her more questions than answers? Would she ever figure out his secrets?

“I’ll sext you if you tell me a secret,” she offered.

“No.”

“I make the rules here,” Chloe insisted. “Take it or leave it.”

“I sense a boss-lady theme. Are you going to take charge?”

“Would you like it if I did?”

“Only one way to find out. Here’s a counter-offer: I get to decide whether you sext well enough for me to surrender a secret.” he said. “How’s that? Make it count, Chloe.” Then he hung up without waiting for her reply.

Definitely evasive.

Make it count.

Chloe looked at her phone, then out the window. There were Christmas lights twinkling in the apartment opposite, lots of little white fairy lights on their tree. What was the best way to shock Hunter? She brushed her teeth, thinking. Then she went back to bed and composed her first message.

She wouldn’t do it.

Hunter knew he’d pushed Chloe too far, so he was surprised when his phone buzzed.

It was an email from Chloe, not a text message. He smiled that he’d been right.

Then he opened the message, began to read, and sat down hard in surprise.

It’s morning and I’m just waking up, sore in all the right places after our amazing night together. The window is open a little bit and I can hear the city waking up. I’m naked in bed, and the sheets are smooth against my skin. I can feel the warm indent where you were sleeping—I run my hand over it and realize you’re gone.

Hunter was intrigued. It wasn’t like any sexting he’d done before but he definitely wanted more. The email essay worked for him in a big way. His phone buzzed as the next email came in. It was going to be like a serial. Hunter was onboard with that. He slid down on the big leather sectional, turned off the television and dimmed the lights to enjoy.

I hear your footstep in the same moment that I smell the coffee you’ve made. I shiver as your fingertip slides across my shoulders, moving my hair out of the way. I feel your breath first, then the soft brush of your beard, then your kiss on the back of my neck.

It was getting good. The next message took longer to arrive.

I hear the mug as you put it down on the side table, then your hand slides down my back. You flatten your palm against me and press lightly, your fingertips drifting over my skin. You lift the sheet, then slide into bed beside me. You kiss my neck again and as I roll toward you, your hand rises to my breast. You cup my breast in your warm hand as we kiss, then you pinch my nipple between your finger and thumb, rolling it until I arch my back and it tightens to a peak.

Damn! Hunter wished Chloe would type faster.

Then you roll me to my back, your mouth locking over mine, your hands on my breasts, your weight trapping me against the mattress. You kiss me until I’m breathless, then move down. I know where you’re going and just lie back to enjoy. You pause at my breasts, licking and kissing them, teasing them until they’re so tight they ache.

She definitely had a knack for this. His phone was quiet for a long time, long enough that he began to worry that she might abandon the story, just as she was getting to the really good bit.

Then you trail kisses down my belly, marking a path, taking your time, making me wait for it. Making me writhe. I’m on fire for you and so wet