She stared up at him. At first, she was hurt by his withdrawal, but then she saw his face: it was a complicated mixture of lust and love, of want and fear. And something else… something deeper and darker. That was when she saw it, as clear as a summer day, and she reached out to him, touched his cheek. “Why guilt?” she asked softly. He took a deep breath. “You can see it?” “All over your face.” She traced his cheekbone, his lips, his strong chin. “Tell me, Hunter.” “It’s not about you,” he said quickly. “I don’t feel guilty about – about feeling this way for you. About kissing you.” She gave him a slow smile. “That’s a good start, I think, because I feel no guilt whatsoever about liking it.” “No?” Despite being petrified about the approaching conversation, Sully managed to tease her

