Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce

 

Chapter 8

Gemma tucked her blanket tight under her legs to keep off the April chill. Kyle pushed and zigzagged her along the Hudson River Greenway in her wheelchair past people walking dogs, joggers clocking up some miles, and cyclists pumping their pedals. She dug her fingers into the armrests, and her stomach rolled when Kyle spun her around in circles doing doughnuts on the pathway, tipping her sideways onto one wheel. She squealed. Tears stung her eyes; it felt like weeks since she’d had such a good belly-aching laugh.

After being noticed by a few fans and having photos, Gemma and Kyle managed to escape the crowds and sit on a bench under a tree. At the nearby skate park, kids zoomed around on scooters and boards, the wheels scraping and scratching against the concrete. Gemma straightened the blanket over her legs, tugged her beanie down lower, and drew the zipper on her jacket up higher.

“Thanks for the heads up on what Hunt’s planning for tonight. You know how much I hate surprises,” she said.

Gemma had barely seen Hunter all morning. He’d taken off before lunch and had been in and out of the apartment several times since, dropping off bags loaded with stuff. Every time she’d asked him what he was doing, he’d made up an excuse of having more errands to run, swooping in and giving her a kiss on the cheek, sending the butterflies in her stomach into a flutter, then taking off again.

A night alone with him would be good. She’d finally be able to start breaking down the barrier around her heart. It had been nearly three years since Ben, and it was time to feel again. But something kept niggling away at her insides. While she trusted Hunter with her life, could she trust him with her heart?

“That’s why I told you—so you’d stop stressing. But considering you aren’t supposed to know what he’s doing, you could come out with me and Hayden if you wanted.” Kyle picked up a pebble, tossed it in his hand several times, and then threw it hard against the tree trunk standing ten feet away.

“Not sure Hunt would like that if he’s going to all this trouble.” She fumbled with the fringe on her scarf. “This is our first official date, and I’m nervous.”

“Why?” Kyle jerked his head back.

Gemma watched a skateboarder jump, slide along a rail and land perfectly before zooming across the park. She tugged on her beanie, wriggled in her wheelchair, and itched her leg near the top of her cast. “He’s been with so many girls. I’m afraid I won’t meet his expectations. Afraid if it doesn’t work out I’ll end up just like my mom with one doomed relationship after the next. And, to top it off, I’m trying to overcome this weird sensation I get whenever we try to be close.”

Kyle picked a dead leaf off the ground and shredded it to pieces. “I can’t help you with this shit, Gem. It’s between you and Hunt.”

“But you and I have always talked about everything. Can’t I talk to you about him?”

“You’re my best friends. I’m not going to play middleman. Ever. I can’t do that. Isn’t that what your girlfriends are for?”

“I’m away so much, I don’t know them like I know you. I trust you more than anyone.” Gemma lowered her chin. She’d always been able to talk to Kyle, but now her relationship with Hunter was a no-go zone. Why? Was this another brick in the wall she felt building between her and Kyle? The first one was when Hunter came home. And now this? She’d expected changes to occur between her and Hunter, and was afraid it would interfere with their music, but never her friendship with Kyle. This was yet another concern to add to her list and she had to ensure things didn’t get worse.

“It’s getting late. We better head back.” Kyle stood, kicked off the wheelchair brake-lock, and pushed her toward the boys’ apartment.

Gemma headed straight to the spare room, showered in her ensuite, and blow-dried her hair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the minutes ticking by on the clock, her palms clammed up thinking about the night ahead. She hadn’t been this nervous since singing live on TV for the Discovered-On-YouTube contest. Date nights were what couples did. Spending time alone was what you were supposed to do. It was time to be close . . . and intimate.

Had Hunter forgotten about their no-sex rule? Was tonight about getting her into bed earlier than discussed? Pulling her track pants and hoodie on, her hands trembled. Was she ready to sleep with him?

Heat flushed her cheeks when she thought of him naked. His fair skin, abs like corrugated iron, the intricate pattern of swirling tattoos on his upper left arm. She’d seen him cohort around often enough in his boxer-briefs when they’d changed costumes backstage, in cars going to places, hanging out in hotel rooms and here at his apartment. She’d seen him naked, too. Drunk. Wasted. Accidently coming out of the shower. But now, things were different. She didn’t have to turn a blind eye anymore. She let out a deep breath, shook her hands, and flexed her fingers. Would he be as good in bed in real-life as he had been in her dreams?

Guess there is only one way to find out.

Slowly, Gemma’s nerves turned to excitement. She headed out of the bedroom and took a seat at the kitchen counter. Kyle jumped up from the couch. Dressed in Levi jeans and a button-down shirt, he seemed ready for his night out.

“You’re wearing sweats?” He looked her up and down. “It’s not very sexy for date night.” He wrinkled his nose; humor skipped through his eyes.

Gemma brushed her hands over her thighs. “Geez, thanks. But not much else fits over my cast. And remember? I’m not supposed to know what’s going on.”

“True. But still.”

Gemma looked down at her clothes. By her experience with guys, she could wear a hessian sack and they’d still get turned on. And besides, she wasn’t expecting to have sex. Definitely not . . . well . . . maybe.

“I’m joking.” A smile played at the corner of Kyle’s mouth. “You’d look good in anything. Trust me. I’m going to head out now, so I’ll see you later. Tomorrow . . . sometime.”

Without another word, he grabbed his leather jacket and fled to the elevator.

Normally when Kyle left, he’d give her a quick hug and a kiss on her forehead, but tonight, she got nothing. When the elevator doors closed behind him, it was like someone had pulled the plug out on her light.

And she was left alone.

She looked up when she heard Hunter’s footsteps, and he walked out of the hallway. A different light turned on. Her spotlight. Her heart rate changed from largo to presto. He wore her favorite black jeans that sat low on his hips, a white T-shirt that molded to his toned body, and his hair was tied back off his face, accentuating his azure eyes.

She bit the inside of her cheek and jiggled her foot on the stool’s rest. Damn, she could be in a whole lot of trouble here.

It was so hard to play it cool when she knew he’d made plans. But what? She didn’t know.

He stopped in front of her, and his smile broadened.

“You look nice.” Gemma’s voice caught in her throat. He smelt all cinnamon and spicy after a shower and made her head feel light. “Where are you off to this evening? Do you have plans?”

Hunter took her hand in his, kissed her palm, and entwined his fingers with hers. “As a matter of fact, I do. It involves you, me, dinner and later . . . my bedroom.” His eyes sparkled with a whole lot of sexiness. He leaned in and hovered his lips a few inches from hers.

She placed her hand on his chest. His heart beat hard against his ribs. “Hunt, we agreed not to—”

“Fear not, babe. I’ll remain true to our ground rules. No sex. I promise.” Hunter pressed his lips to hers, then made a trail of the lightest, softest, most delicate kisses toward her ear. In his deep, husky voice, he whispered, “Unless you’ve changed your mind. I want you, Gem. Regardless of when it happens, it will be special. But I will wait until your cast is off, if that’s what you want.” He nibbled on her earlobe, sending goose bumps down her spine. “Do you want to wait?”

She closed her eyes. The vibrations of his hypnotic voice tremored through her. Heat exploded in her core. In her mind, she was already half undressed and ready to peel off her panties. Damn, he was good.

Hunter may be able to stay in control, but could she? His body begged to be touched, especially when it was within arm’s reach.

She blinked several times, regathering her thoughts. “Wait . . .” Gemma licked her lips and swallowed hard. “That’s right . . . we agreed to wait.”

Why had she come up with this stupid no-sex rule?

Band. Friendships. Kyle. Music.

But if Hunter kept this up, her rules might have to be broken.

“Good.” Hunter brushed one fingertip on her nose. “I have the whole evening planned. Dinner will be delivered soon, so in the meantime, let me get you a drink.”

Hunter did his best Channing Tatum, Magic Mike spin, complete with a seductive look and shimmy of his shoulders before heading into the kitchen. Gemma laughed, admiring his butt when he walked.

He dived into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of bubbles. “Champagne, babe?”

Her mouth fell open. “Krug. You bought Krug? That’s eight hundred dollars a bottle.”

“Only the best for my girl.”

He grabbed glasses and placed them on the counter. Peeling the foil off the top of the bottle, he winked at Gemma, and eased the cork up. With a pop, the cork shot off and hit the roof. Champagne exploded everywhere. It spilled over the counter top, splashed onto Gemma’s pants, and dribbled onto the floor.

“Fuck!” Hunter dashed over to the sink with the bottle.

“I would have preferred it to be in a glass.” Gemma laughed, hobbled off the barstool, and shook champagne from her hands.

Hunter grabbed a handful of dishtowels, threw her one, and wiped up the mess with the others. “That was not part of the plan. I’m so sorry.” He looked her up and down, his face ashen. “Did you get wet?”

“A little bit, but I’m okay.”

“I saved half the bottle, and there’s another in the fridge.” He scooped up the pile of dishtowels and threw them into the sink. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

“Sure.” Gemma said and threw her dish towel over to the others. Pouring the glasses, Hunter’s hands shook like maracas at Mardi Gras. She thought he was going to spill the champagne again. Was he as nervous as she was?

“Here’s to our first date.” Hunter chinked his glass against hers and downed half the flute in one gulp. He drank $800 champagne like it was bottled water, while Gemma sipped and savored every mouthful. Because it wasn’t much more than five years ago, the three of them had been living on baked beans and cheap beer, scraping to find their next gig and trying to establish a name for themselves.

“Right.” Hunter placed his glass down and rubbed his hands together. “Let me get everything set for dinner.”

Gemma stayed put and drank her champagne while Hunter set the dining table. Her heart skipped a beat when he decorated it with a bunch of red tulips, impressed he remembered her favorite flower. He even lit a candle. The intercom chimed and dinner arrived.

“So sorry, Mr. Collins, for being late.” Gemma heard the delivery guy apologize to Hunter at the elevator door. “It might be best to reheat the meals in the oven for ten minutes.”

Hunter returned to the kitchen and chucked the foil trays into the oven. “This is bullshit. I ordered in so I wouldn’t have to do anything in the kitchen. Now I’ve got to be Jamie fucking Oliver.”

“You . . . are no Jamie Oliver. You can’t cook a thing.” Gemma giggled.

“You’re right.” He waved at the oven. “But I can reheat. Shall we have some more champagne while we wait?” he asked.

“Yea-p. But let’s sit on the sofa. It’s more comfortable for my leg.” Gemma settled on the chaise and propped a cushion under knee. Hunter handed her a fresh glass of Krug and sat beside her.

Soft music from Hunter’s playlist filled the room, and they fell into banter and chat about upcoming appearances, appointments, and meetings. They spoke of songs they were working on and photoshoots they had scheduled in their calendar.

Two glasses of champagne turned into three. With no food in her belly, the bubbles went straight to her head, and for the first time, Gemma didn’t tense all over when Hunter put his arm around her shoulder or rubbed her arm.

“Wait. I almost forgot. I bought you something today.” He dashed into the office and returned with a long narrow black box, tied with red ribbon.

Gemma’s heart thundered. She was not expecting a present. At all. “You didn’t have to buy me anything. But thank you.” She ran her fingers over the silky bow, fumbled with the tie, and opened it. A cashmere woolen scarf. It was so soft . . . and . . . pretty . . . and . . . nice. Well, it would be nice for next winter. But purple Burberry check? Ergh!

She liked plain-colored chunky knits. But she wouldn’t hurt his feelings after the effort he’d gone to. Oh no, she was going to have to wear this ugly thing.

Faking a smile, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. It’s great.”

His eyes shone. “Amie helped me pick it out.”

Gemma hesitated, then placed the scarf on the coffee table. “You were with Amie today?”

“She came shopping with me. I’ve never done this dating thing before, Gem, and I want to make sure I do it right.”

“You didn’t need her help.” A nerve twitched in the base of Gemma’s neck. Amie’s taste was radically different from her own and Hunter didn’t need to go to all this trouble of fancy champagne, dinner and gifts for their night together. “I’m happy to have some us time.”

“But I want tonight to be perfect.”

Hunter drew her into his strong arms, and Gemma rested her head on his shoulder. All the trouble he had gone to made a tiny dent in her guarded heart. It dawned on her that she hadn’t done anything special for him either. Work commitments had kept them busy, vacation had kept them apart, her health had kept her quarantined. But now it was time to get over her fears and put every effort into making this relationship grow.

The smell of smoke filled the air, and she pulled out of Hunter’s embrace. “Do you smell something burning?”

Hunter leapt from the sofa. “Fuck. Dinner.”

He opened the oven door. Smoke billowed out and filled the kitchen. The fire alarm shrieked to life, and Gemma covered her ears. He grabbed the oven mitts and threw the smoldering trays into the sink. Clutching the broom, he reached over his head and reset the alarm.

Staring at the contents in the sink, Hunter’s shoulders slumped. “It’s burnt. I ruined your gnocchi.”

Gemma pursed her lips to stop laughing.

He jammed his hands onto his hips. “Now what do I do?”

“Just order in again,” she said. “Or you know what? How about you heat up the pizza in the fridge leftover from yesterday?”

“Pizza? You want to eat reheated pizza?”

She shrugged. “Why not? Pizza with some more champagne sounds perfect.”

“I go to all this trouble and we end up eating leftovers.” Hunter shook his head, grabbed the pizza from the fridge, and threw it in the microwave.

After burning his fingers on the plate and dribbling melted cheese on the floor, he placed the food on the table. “Dinner is served.”

Gemma hobbled over and sat opposite him. But when Hunter took the first bite of his slice, pepperoni fell onto his white shirt.

“Oh . . . you’ve got to be shitting me.” He rolled his eyes and wiped at the stain, and spread BBQ sauce even farther.

Gemma laughed causing the champagne to rush to her head. Hunter looked even sexier, if that was possible, when he was in a fluster. “Hunt, don’t worry. It’s fine.”

“Nothing’s going right. I’m sorry.”

Gemma finished her drink and glanced out at the city skyline. Nighttime shrouded the city. Millions of lights shone before her and the headlights on the cars below looked like long strands of twinkle lights. She turned back to Hunter. His eyes sparkled. Holding his champagne flute close to his lips, a smile curled at the corner of his mouth. That smile that sent too much heat to her cheeks.

With his eyes locked onto hers, he placed his glass down, stood up from the table, and walked around to her side. He bowed and held out his hand. “Would you care to join me for a dance?”

Gemma’s heart rate jumped. “Are you serious?” She blinked. “I can’t dance with a broken leg.”

Gemma looked around the room. What was he thinking? He wanted to dance with her here? How? Was she supposed to stand there while he grinded against her? Visions of Hunter dancing with girls at after-parties filled her mind, and her mouth ran dry.

“Are you going to trust me or are you going to sit there all night?” Hunter wiggled his fingers for her to take his hand.

Regardless of how ridiculous she thought trying to dance was, she took his hand.

“I trust you with my life, Hunt” Just not her heart. Not yet, anyway. “Of course I will dance with you.”

The music changed. Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” wafted through the sound system, and she hobbled toward the space in the center of the room. Hunter freed her of her crutches, placed them against the sofa, and drew her into his embrace. His spicy cologne wrapped around her as she rested her cheek against his chest, and they swayed from side to side.

Hunter’s heart pounded in her ear. His deep breaths sent a shudder through her system. Flexing the nervous shake from her hands, she glided them up his T-shirt, linked her fingers behind his neck, and tilted her head.

He widened his stance to avoid her cast, bent down, and placed his forehead against hers. “I’m counting down the days until I can dance with you properly, Gem.”

She closed her eyes. This was nice. If only she could relax and get the performing acrobats in her stomach to disappear.

With a few more glasses of champagne to help her to chill, maybe horizontal dancing would be an option after all.

“I’ve seen the way you dance. I’m looking forward to it,” she whispered.

“Oh, really?” He wriggled his hips against hers and sent a rush of heat to every part of her body. But then he stopped and his eyes darkened. He stroked her hair then cupped the side of her face. “You’re so beautiful, Gem. Always have been.”

Gemma’s insides clenched. Oh God, this was it. He was going to kiss her.

This was not going to be some peck on the cheek, or one on the forehead, or a see-ya-round type of kiss. This was going to be epic.

Hunter’s lips inched closer. His palm felt clammy on her skin.

She closed her eyes. Held her breath.

Then it happened.

Hunter’s lips touched hers.

Neither one of them moved. Neither one of them breathed.

Then his warmth consumed her. She inhaled and returned his kiss.

The breath rushed from her lungs. Her hands slid down his arms and curled around his waist. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she drew him closer. Opening her mouth, she sought out his tongue. A guttural groan rumbled low in his throat and he deepened their kiss.

Goose bumps shot across her skin when Hunter’s hand wandered and settled below her breast. Could he feel her heartbeat hammering like a drum? With his thumb, he gently brushed against her shirt. She fought the instinct to slap his hand away, her usual reaction in the past. Instead, she let her own hands creep lower on his back and grab onto his butt, all tight and toned.

His belt dug into her belly, and his erection press against her. She winced, because it was plain weird. It was Hunter. Her Hunter. He was hers. But . . . something wasn’t right.

What was with her headspace?

His lips tasted of champagne, which was nice. But his teeth kept knocking against hers and sent uncomfortable shudders down through her molars. His tongue was too eager, and she had to draw back several times to avoid bringing up her dinner.

With his hands in her hair, Hunter nudged closer, his lips hot against hers. But his knee knocked hard against her cast.

“Ow,” she gasped, more from shock than actually being hurt. She moved her leg to the side and wriggled her toes.

Hunter grabbed her arms. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

He took a step back, his cheeks flushed. He ripped his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Gem. I’m nervous. I’ve never been like this before in my life. I wanted everything to be perfect. Maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe you should’ve never said I was like your brother, because now I feel incestuous every time I want to be close to you.”

Gemma lowered her gaze, then looked back up at him. “You goose. If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way.”

“Thank goodness. I’m glad it’s not just me. I know this will pass. We’ll find our groove.” Hunter winked at her and reached for her crutches. “How about we go watch a movie in my room? And there will be no funny business. I promise.”

Spending the night next to him, feeling his arms around her, having his lips against hers, would be good. It would be another small step in the right direction. She could do this. She could watch a movie in his room. Lie next to him. Sleep next to him. And get over this ridiculous he’s-like-my-brother awkwardness once and for all.

“Of course, I’ll come with you.”

“You want me to carry you?”

Gemma hooked her crutches under her arms. “Don’t be stupid, I can make it by myself.”

Hunter led the way, opened the door, and she shuffled into his room. It was dark. City lights filtered in through the window, creating a kaleidoscope of colors on his electric guitar collection mounted above his headboard. She let out the breath she’d been holding when she didn’t notice anything unusual. Although . . . he’d made his king bed and picked up all his dirty clothes.

“Wow. You cleaned your room.”

“All for you, babe.”

He flicked back the covers and helped her onto the mattress, even put a pillow under her knee.

“You finally got me between your sheets.” Gemma rearranged the pillows behind her head.

Hunter dashed around the other side and jumped in bed next to her. “That was my plan.”

He flicked on the TV and selected the latest action movie.

Gemma watched the lights flicker across his face. It had been a fun evening, even though everything went wrong and the kiss hadn’t been earth-shattering. Her thoughts skipped to Kyle. She wondered where he was, what he was doing with Hayden, and made a mental note to thank him for letting her and Hunter have this night together.

Hunter pulled her into his embrace. Her head rested against his chest. He kissed the top of her forehead. “I didn’t think us being together would be so awkward. We’ll get better with time and practice.”

“I like practice,” Gemma whispered, trailing her fingers across his chest.

He turned toward her and kissed her. This time was a definite improvement. More control. More evenly paced. More lips. Less tongue.

He smiled against her lips. “This is better.”

“Much.” She hooked his hair behind his ears, then closed her eyes, and Hunter kissed her again. She turned toward him, he edged in closer to her, and she slipped her good leg over his hip. He trailed kisses down the side of her neck and goose bumps prickled her arm.

His warm hand started to wander, touching her hair, her arms, her hips. Then he worked his way upwards and cupped her breast.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

This is soooo weird.

But he can do this.

He’s my boyfriend.

Boyfriends do this.

Hunter dipped his head and grazed his teeth over the top of her shirt and nipped at her breast. His hot breath burned through the thin fabric and shot across her skin. Her heartbeat hit somewhere near 200bpm, and she arched her chest toward him, begging for more of his mouth on her. She rubbed her hands over his shoulders and down his back. The tips of her fingers dug into his flesh and traced over each ripped muscle. With fire igniting in her veins this whole no-sex rule could be gone out the door at any moment.

But then Hunter’s cell phone on his nightstand vibrated with Amie’s ringtone.

“Ignore it,” Gemma panted, running her fingers through his hair.

“Gladly.” Hunter kissed his way down to her stomach, to the skin at the base of her shirt.

Now this was progress. Gemma closed her eyes and sank deeper into the pillow.

The phone rang again.

And again.

And again.

“Why the fuck is she calling?” Hunter groaned and flicked his head back. “It must be urgent. Let me answer it and I’ll tell her to fuck off.”

Gemma slapped her hands against the mattress, puffed at her hair that had fallen across her face, and glared at the ceiling.

Fucking Amie.

Hunter rolled over and answered his cell phone. “You better have a fucking good reason for calling, because you know what you’re interrupting . . . Are you kidding me? . . . We fly out tomorrow night . . . Hold on . . . I’ll go to the office.” Hunter held his phone to his chest, leaned over, and kissed Gemma on the head. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Hunter wiggled his ass disappearing out the door, leaving her alone and in a hot pool of fluster. But the more she thought about it, Amie’s call had been a blessing in disguise. It had stopped her and Hunter getting carried away. Stopped them going too far. It was too soon to take this step.

Then Gemma saw Dwayne Johnson on the screen, all buffed and sweaty. Guns and helicopters and chaos—just the distraction she needed.

Ten minutes later, Hunter still hadn’t returned. The fire ignited by his kiss had fizzled. Twenty minutes later, Gemma couldn’t believe he could talk to Amie for that long. Thirty minutes later, he finally returned and crawled into bed.

“Sorry babe. Amie had urgent details for changes to our trip. Kyle and I now leave tomorrow for seven days instead of three. LA for the iHearts, then Dallas and Minnesota.”

“And I miss out. This sucks.” Gemma hated the fact that they were going away without her. It would be the first time since signing with SureHaven that they would be apart for publicity appearances. “Am I that much of a security issue?”

“Guess everyone doesn’t want you getting knocked about. Going on promo won’t be the same without you.”

Hunter wrapped his arms around her and drew her against his chest. He kissed her forehead and they settled in to watch the rest of the movie. With his heartbeat next to her ear she let the scent of his Dior cologne fill her head. Her eyelids grew heavy as she melted against his body. Her Hunter. Nothing would ever get in their way.

Nothing.

Then, the elevator chimed.

And Kyle crashed into the hallway.