'So, where do you live?' His words keep repeating in my head, I contemplate my Answer, unsure as to whether or not I really wanted him to know where I live.
My little studio was a matchbox compared to his house, not that I was ashamed, I worked my ass off for everything that I have.
After my little internal debate, I decided that it would be smarter just to give him my address, which I did with heavy reluctance, "E, 13th St, East village downtown Manhattan."
He nods waiting for me beside his bike wordlessly lifting me up on to it.
It seems whenever I'm around Hunter my cheeks are stuck in a constant state of burning blush. There had got to be a less intimate way of getting on and off the bike.
The ride back from the restaurant wasn't nearly as bad as the ride there, at one point I had even lifted my head out from between his shoulder blades, but as soon as I saw the scenery blurring around us I quickly shoved my face back into them.
Yet I could appreciate why he rode, it was a chaotic mix of exhilarating and peaceful.
I wanted It to end as much as I wanted to extend it out forever.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts to notice that we were slowing down to pull into my apartment complex.
Instead of idling the bike and lifting me off, he parked in an open space beside my mustang, he swung his lean, muscular leg over the leather seat, climbing off all the while grabbing me firmly around the waist in the process.
I let out a little squeal because he slides us off together so fast gravity tricked me into thinking that we were falling.
"Jesus, Cupcake! That was my ear!" Hunter scowled down at me, before setting me safely on my feet.
I smile apologetically up at him, saying, "thanks, for the lift and dinner. I'll see you later I guess."
Hunter's brows furrow and he looks at me puzzled for a second, "what?" He smirks, "aren't you going to invite me in?"
I stare at him for a moment trying to determine whether he was joking, but nope.
His expression was one hundred per cent serious.
I try to think of some excuse as to why he couldn't come upstairs with me, "you want to come in?" was all I managed to say, not an invitation, but also not a rejection either.
He was insistent, "come on, Cupcake. I gotta piss." He spoke obviously lying.
I sigh nodding my head. "Fine, but you can't stay for long, I've got to get ready for work," I warn.
Hunter looked taken aback for a moment that I had given in so easily, but I only had forty-five minutes to shower, get ready and be at the bar, I knew that if I denied him he would bug me until I let him in any way.
I lead the way up a narrow set of stairs, huffing and puffing up the steep flight.
"It's not much," I mumble as we pause in front of my door, inserting the key into the lock, I finish, "but it's home."
Discreetly glancing around I release a deep breath in relief seeing that it looks relatively tidy in here.
"Okay, so the bathroom is through that - " my voice instantly cuts off when I turn to see Hunter holding my one and only Victoria's Secret bra.
In seconds my entire body turns into that same shade of deep Scarlett, as the tiny scrap of lace, while a sexy smirk lifts to Hunter's lips.
An infinite amount of time seems to pass as my body remains frozen half a foot in front of him.
Then reality suddenly crashes around me, mortification kicks in and I surge forward trying my hardest to snatch my bra from his smug grasp.
With a suggestive grin on his face, he lifts it higher, carefully inspecting first the wispy cups, then the tag that had the size printed on it, "hmmm," he clicks his tongue.
He lowers my bra back down to my reach.
I was waiting for a pervy comment but it never came, sending him my dirtiest glare snatching it from his hand.
I noticed an unreadable gleam in his eyes.
"You pervert!" I scream.
"If you didn't want me to see it then it shouldn't have been on the counter." He points out overly smugly. "But I'm sure you look good in lace and silk."