Twice Rejected: The Luna Forged in Fire

Chapter 9

SLOANE

The house is quiet in that rare, delicate way that only happens when a child is asleep. Caleb is napping upstairs, curled around his stuffed wolf, and for once, the silence doesn’t feel lonely.

It feels like opportunity.

I stand in the kitchen, tying the apron around my waist. The soft‑seductive dress I changed into moves like water against my skin — light, airy, brushing my thighs when I walk. The neckline dips just enough to hint, not show. The fabric clings at the waist, skimming my curves in a way I haven’t allowed myself in years.

A touch of lipstick. A little mascara. Hair down.

Not for Hunter or Ava.

For me.

But if it rattles them? Well. That’s just a bonus.

I pull out the ingredients for red velvet cupcakes, letting the soft clatter of bowls and measuring cups fill the room. The kitchen smells like vanilla and cocoa even before I start mixing.

Behind me, I hear footsteps.

Hunter stops in the doorway.

And for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

His eyes sweep over me — slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he blinks. His gaze lingers on the dress, the curve of my waist, the lipstick.

“Sloane…” His voice is low, almost reverent. “You look… different.”

I smile without turning. “Good different?”

He steps closer. “Very.”

From the living room, Ava shifts on the sofa. The magazine she’s pretending to read rustles sharply, like she’s gripping it too hard.

I don’t look at her.

I can feel her fuming from here.

I start mixing the batter, humming softly. Hunter moves closer, leaning against the counter beside me. He’s not subtle about it — his shoulder almost brushing mine, his eyes fixed on my hands as I whisk.

“You haven’t baked in a long time,” he says, voice warm.

“I know.” I tilt my head, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. “I thought I’d make something sweet today.”

His breath catches.

Ava flips a page in her magazine so aggressively it nearly tears.

Hunter glances toward the living room, then back at me — and the look in his eyes is unmistakable.

He’s choosing where to look. And it’s not at her.

“Need help?” he asks, stepping even closer.

I pretend to consider it. “Maybe.”

He smiles — slow, boyish, the kind he used to give me before everything fell apart. “Just tell me what to do.”

I hand him the bowl. Our fingers brush. His inhale is sharp, audible.

Ava flips another page.

Hunter doesn’t even look her way.

When the cupcakes go into the oven, I start on the cream cheese frosting. The kitchen fills with the warm scent of cocoa and sugar, and the air feels thick — not hot, but charged.

Hunter stands beside me, watching every movement.

“You’re really… glowing today,” he murmurs.

I arch a brow. “Glowing?”

He nods, eyes dropping briefly to my lips. “Yeah. It suits you.”

Ava’s magazine snaps shut.

She stands abruptly, pacing toward the kitchen doorway — but she doesn’t enter. She just watches, arms crossed, jaw tight.

Perfect.

I dip my finger into the frosting, lifting it slowly. Hunter’s eyes follow the movement like he’s hypnotized.

Then I reach up — gently, deliberately — and touch the frosting to the side of his neck.

He freezes.

A soft, startled breath escapes him. His eyes darken, his throat working as he swallows.

“Sloane…” he whispers.

I smile sweetly. “Oops.”

I don’t wipe it off or explain. I just leaned over and licked it off with my tongue. I heard him gasp and clearly taken by surprise.

I turn back to the bowl, stirring like nothing happened.

Hunter stays still for a long moment, like he’s trying to process the sensation — the cool frosting, the warmth of my tongue, the lipstick, the dress, the scent of vanilla in the air.

Behind him, Ava’s nails dig into the magazine so hard the cover bends.

Once he recovered, he steps closer to me and touched my waist, voice low. “You miss me.”

I tilt my head. “Maybe.”

His eyes flick to the frosting on the bowl. "Does it taste good?"

I shrug lightly. “It's good." I dipped my finger and asked him to open his mouth before putting my finger inside. "Taste it."

And he did. He sucked on my finger and longer too than expected.

"Is it any good?"

He laughs under his breath — soft, disbelieving, affected. “Yes. And you’re going to be in so much trouble in a little bit if you don't stop teasing me. I might just take you here in the kitchen counter." He whispered to me while hugging me from the back. I can feel his hard d**k pressing on my back.

“Really? Tell me how.” I ask, stirring the frosting slowly, deliberately.

He leans in, close enough that I feel his breath on my shoulder. “I will start with this." He lifted the hem of my dress slowly and cupped my butt cheek. He moaned on my left ear. "I want you so bad."

Ava inhales sharply from the doorway.

Hunter doesn’t turn.

He doesn’t even pretend to care.

I turned around and face him, making sure I press my breasts on his chest for full seduction.

"You could have taken me now if there's no audience, baby." I licked the side of his neck. "I think it's time she move out and find her own place." I caressed his c**k a little on top of his pants and he moaned.

"Y-Yes. I a-agree."

I kissed his cheek. "Let me finish baking and I'll save some frosting so I can put some on you later." I winked at him before I stepped away from him.

When the timer beeps, I bend to pull the cupcakes from the oven. The dress shifts, the fabric brushing my legs, and I feel Hunter’s gaze on me — heavy, unguarded.

I straighten, placing the tray on the counter.

Hunter steps behind me, close enough that I feel the warmth of him at my back. Not touching — but close. Too close.

“You smell like vanilla,” he murmurs.

I glance over my shoulder. “Do I?”

He nods, eyes fixed on me. “It’s… distracting.”

Ava’s magazine hits the coffee table with a thud.

Hunter still doesn’t look at her.

I pick up the frosting again, swirling it with the spatula. Hunter watches, entranced.

“You want to taste some more?” I ask softly.

He nods.

I lift the spatula — but instead of offering it to him, I tap a tiny bit of frosting onto his jawline, just below the first spot.

His breath stutters.

“Sloane…”

I smile. “You missed a spot.”

He doesn’t move or breathe. He just stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.

Ava stands frozen in the doorway, her face pale with fury, her hands clenched around the ruined magazine.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel powerful.