Still wandering lost through the house, I turned the handle on a door I was half certain led to my bedroom. Instead, I found Hunter sitting on an exercise bench, his hands curled around bars attached by long lines to weights held in some sort of cage.
My gaze focused first on his serene face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted as he puffed rhythmically, inhaling when he pulled on the weights, exhaling when he returned them to their starting position. My eyes dropped next to his broad shoulders and thick arms. Veins stood out along his biceps, a light glean of sweat covering the skin and making it shine.
My attention traveled from his forearms with their light covering of silky black strands to his legs. Like his forearms, his lower limbs have a dusting of black hair. A summer tan gave everything a perfect contrast. My gaze crawled up the shorts, hooking for an instant at the ladder of dark black hair that crept from below the belt line up to his navel.
Too sexy for words. I had a hazy awareness of sucking my bottom lip into my mouth and holding it there, intent on not making a sound as my eyes drifted up his chest and froze.
He'd stopped moving, stopped breathing as far as I could tell, but his realization that I watched him wasn't what held me still. White marks checkered the right side of his chest, the skin too damaged in places to tan and whiter than natural. I noticed white divots where the shrapnel must have dug deep. Finer lines traveled a crazy zigzag and one deep trench looked like someone had taken a carving knife to him.
Hunter jerked, his body contorting to turn his back to me. Like the front of his torso, the back was scarred, but less so. Reaching down, he scooped up a gray t-shirt from the floor.
"I'm sorry..." I fumbled for something to say. A bunch of stupid things came to mind. Does it still hurt? Is there something I can do? Yeah, like some silly little executive assistant who hasn't even scraped through two years of college could help a man with Hunter's intellect and resources.
He didn't respond so I kept running on at the mouth to fill the silence. "I was looking for my room. I didn't mean to interrupt."
Or gawk, at least at the parts he might not want me gawking at.
Scratch that, I'm certain Hunter Dey didn't want me gawking at any part of him. Whatever Daniel and Aldon might have thought, Hunter saw me in a totally different way -- perhaps a worse way now that I had intruded on him like this.
He walked toward me, making an odd little motion with his head that suggested my blunder was forgiven....
"I'll take you." His fingers curled around my elbow, but he didn't immediately lead me to my room. Instead, he examined my clothes.
A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. I started to squirm beneath his attention. The shawl hadn't made it out of the library. With no sleeves and the too short hemline, my limbs were almost entirely exposed, their plump contours on display.
"This is what Daniel had delivered for you?"
I nodded and his frown deepened.
"He should have picked clothes you would feel comfortable in."
"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. He probably thought I wanted to hide my fat -- and he was right. Although, all credit to Daniel, he knew how to dress a girl with too generous curves. Even I had been a little pleased with what the mirror reflected back at me.
Until now, because Hunter clearly wasn't impressed.