The quiet clink of dishes echoed in the kitchen after the last spoonful was gone. Angel leaned back in her chair, a content sigh escaping her lips. For the first time in weeks, her body felt nourished, her heart a little less heavy.
“I’ll clean up,” she offered suddenly, rising from her seat.
Hunter raised a brow, already reaching for the plates. “You don’t have to. I cooked, I’ll clean.”
But Angel stepped beside him, nudging his hand away gently. “You cooked. Let me do something too.”
He opened his mouth to object again, but she fixed him with a soft, stubborn look. One he remembered all too well. That quiet fire that made her irresistible.
In the end, he smiled and surrendered, stepping aside. “Fine. But I’m staying right here in case you get tired.”
Angel rolled her eyes with a smirk and began rinsing the dishes. The warm water ran over her hands as she worked in quiet focus, sleeves rolled up and hair tucked behind her ear. Hunter leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, just... watching her.
There was something about her moving around his space, even doing something as mundane as washing dishes, that tugged at him. It was like watching a familiar dream unfold. And in that moment, a vivid memory resurfaced.
His mind drifted to that night—months ago—after the grand opening of the Hotel in Southbay. The applause, the flashing cameras, the champagne toasts. And then, the silence that followed when it was just the two of them in his suite. Angel in his arms, her laughter still ringing in his ears, her skin warm beneath his touch. It was the first time he had truly made love to her. Not just physically, but with his soul.
It was all there again. The way she moved. The way her shoulders tensed and relaxed. The comfort of her being in his home.
Like déjà vu.
Before he could stop himself, he crossed the kitchen. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her close.
Angel gasped softly but didn’t stop washing. She leaned into him slightly, smiling.
“You’re not gonna stop me from taking you home, right?” he whispered into her ear, his voice low, tinged with longing.
His lips brushed her neck, kissing lightly, slowly—causing shivers to rise down her spine.
“H-Hunter…” she breathed, trying to focus on the plate in her hands. But her fingers faltered.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, and her body responded instinctively. She placed the dish down, hands trembling—not from fear, but from the overwhelming familiarity of his touch.
With one smooth motion, Hunter turned her around. She met his eyes just as he leaned in and kissed her lips, gently but passionately. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. Her body remembered everything—every taste, every breath.
He lifted her up onto the sink counter effortlessly, their faces now level. The kiss deepened, tender yet desperate. Like two people who had been starving for too long and finally tasted something real.
Angel’s fingers threaded through his hair as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her arms circled his neck, holding him closer as if she could pour all the words she couldn’t say into that kiss.
Without breaking it, Hunter carried her, step by step, toward his room. Every touch, every heartbeat echoed their shared longing. They both missed this—each other—more than they could admit aloud.
He laid her down gently on the bed. For a moment, they stared at each other, hearts pounding, breath shallow. Slowly, clothes were removed—each piece tossed aside with careful hands and burning glances.
When they were both bare, Hunter’s eyes roamed over her like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. She was beautiful—every inch of her.
Angel pulled him closer, their lips meeting again in a deeper kiss, one that left no room for doubt. Their bodies moved together like a melody remembered, a rhythm they’d never forgotten.
Hunter’s lips trailed down her neck, to her collarbone, then lower still. Angel’s soft moans filled the room, her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on. Every touch was deliberate, every kiss a promise.
When he finally entered her, it was slow, reverent.
Their breaths caught, blending into soft gasps and whispered names. The pace was gentle at first—savoring the closeness, the connection—but the need built quickly, until they were moving faster, deeper.
All that could be heard in the room was their mingled breathing, the creaking of the bed, and the symphony of moans echoing between them.
And then, together, they reached the edge—and fell.
Afterward, the silence was warm, their bodies tangled beneath the sheets. Angel rested her head against Hunter’s chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. His fingers ran through her hair, the way he always did when words felt too small.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn’t need to.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the hospital. Not the past. Not even the uncertain future.
Only them.