Free Finding Autumn by Beth Michele Page B

latch on to my lip again; thoughts of Hunter calling me an angel have my cheeks flushing, while memories of his cock in my mouth have my sex clenching. I hop out and grab a towel, drying myself off before wrapping up in one of those fluffy robes hanging on the back of the door.
    With a renewed spring in my step, I float over to the bed, pondering my lingerie choice. The black with the red lace is very sexy, although I shake my head and laugh at the thong. It’s basically like wearing nothing, but then again, I guess that’s the whole point.
    I’ve never been one to focus heavily on my appearance, but tonight is different. I spend extra time shaving my underarms and legs, perfecting my makeup: smoky eyeliner, mascara to thicken my lashes, and sheer, pink gloss to accentuate my full lips. My hair is behaving nicely, sleek waves that tumble over my shoulders. The mirror reflects sparkling eyes and a radiant complexion, but only I can detect the relentless thumping inside my chest.
    By the time I pull on my skirt, sling-backs, and a cropped sweater over my cami, the clock reads 5:55 p.m. I blow out a couple of breaths, my fingers combing through my hair a few more times, the carpet wearing down beneath my feet.
    A knock on the door puts an end to my pacing. I try to suppress the smile threatening to expose me, but it’s pointless. With a shaky hand, I open the door—
    And suddenly I can’t remember how to breathe.
    Hunter looks dashing in a white dress shirt falling loosely over a pair of faded jeans. His hair is slightly mussed, a hint of stubble still lining his jaw. My smile grows bigger when I see what’s in his hand.
    “Hi, sweetheart.” He holds out a single red rose. “For you.”
    “Hi, back, and thank you. It’s beautiful,” I reply, bringing the flower to my nose, inhaling its wonderful aroma.
    “You look lovely.” He comes forward and presses a lingering kiss to my cheek, and I let out a quiet sigh. “You ready?”
    “Yup. Let me just grab my purse.”
    “So I thought we’d go to Joe’s Place. It’s not far from here and it’s a nice night for a walk, if you’re up for it.” He glances down at my feet. “Will you be okay in those shoes?”
    “Yes, absolutely,” I answer, as he holds his elbow out to me and we link arms, taking the elevator down to the lobby.
    “I think you’ll like this place. It’s basically burgers and dessert, that’s it. But,” he teases, “you have to eat dinner first.”
    “Oh yeah, says who?”
    “Says, me.” He reels me into his body, sealing his lips over mine, stealing my breath and all rational thought. By the time he backs away, there’s no fight left in me.
    “Yes to everything,” I joke, and he laughs as we resume walking arm in arm through the lobby and out into the night.
    There’s a slight chill in the air, a subtle breeze slapping against my skin as we weave through mazes of people, all out enjoying the evening. We come upon a street musician strumming his guitar, pausing to bask in the melodic pull of the strings. Hunter takes out his wallet and throws a hundred-dollar bill in the cowboy hat sitting on the pavement. My head does a double take when I see the size of the bill. It strikes me as extremely generous, but rather unusual. I’m about to say something when his voice alters my direction.
    “Tyler used to love to play the guitar. My dad bought him a toy one when he was five, and he played it so much that he had to keep buying him new ones. Sometimes I’d hear him tugging on the strings when he was supposed to be sleeping.” The moon bathes his face in light, baring his sorrow, his regret. “Back then, I remember thinking he was going to play guitar in a band someday.” His eyes travel up to the sky, lost in a memory, a half-smile gracing his lips. “Instead, he’s up there somewhere,” he says softly, and when I thread our fingers together, his somber gaze travels back down to mine.
    “Yes, he is.”
    Hunter is pensive the rest of