When Passion Flares (The Dark Horse Trilogy Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

situation. No, what a lovely one.
    Kerri reveled in the sounds Hunter made when he climaxed. Out there in the open, he sounded like a fierce animal, the alpha male claiming what was his for that brief period of time. I can get used to that. To all of this. The warmth Kerri felt didn’t just come from the sunlight now.
    For another blessed hour they pretended that they had no other commitments and could spend the rest of eternity together. They cuddled, they spoke of everything they wanted in life, and they promised not to make decisions too rashly. But by the time they piled back into Hunter’s car and drove away, silence overcame them. We’re not going home together. There would be no movie night or dinner on the porch. Kerri looked out the window and watched the countryside slowly turn into residential dwellings.
    Hunter let her out at the end of her road and did not dawdle, lest he be seen. As he drove away down the road, Kerri clasped her hand over her chest and pretended that her heart was not being ripped from it like a piece of rancid meat.
    I don’t want to feel this way. She meandered up the road. I want to be happy. Kerri stopped and watched the sun disappear behind a forest of trees. Hunter should have been there with her, holding her hand as they strolled home to a manor made for them.
    The more Kerri fantasized about her future, the more she realized Hunter was a part of every vision. No man made her feel like that before. They were so compatible that… it didn’t seem so strange that they may one day build such a home together. Kerri smiled at the possibility before she remembered her parents. She may not need their permission to do what she wanted with her life, but she did want their blessing.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
     
    The more the summer wore on, the more Hunter was recruited to help his father’s campaign.
    This always happened, and Hunter always found himself sitting at the phone calling voters to make sure they knew who to vote for that November. It’s not me. But he was expected to cold call people and ask “Hello, this is Hunter Hall, son of candidate Terrence Hall. Do you know about…?” Worst of all, he was supposed to sound like he actually cared that his father won. Things were only made worse when confused elderly people asked him multiple times if he was really who he said he was. The younger people simply hung up on him.
    “You’re doing great,” Paul said for the umpteenth time that day. He was wandering around the dining room in the Hall manor, asking this volunteer and that intern if they had made their limit for calls that day. Only four-hundred more to go. Or so it felt. Sometimes, Hunter worried that he would no longer know how to call his girlfriend. “Hello, this is Hunter Hall, son of candidate Terrence Hall. Have you decided who you’re going to sleep with today?”
    Hunter decided to call it quits well before he was supposed to. He told Paul that there were more pressing things to attend to, such as rehearsing his speech he was to give at some stately dinner in a few nights. All of those speeches ran together like those phone calls did. Hunter couldn’t wait for this election to be over. He wanted his free time back, and he wanted to be with Kerri without the weight of this nonsense on their shoulders.
    Of course, he assumed that anything would change. I’m not that naïve.
    Hunter did not go to work on his speech. Instead he went into the living room, where the usual campaigners watched the local news and debated among themselves about if there was any hope for the future. The rabble was so loud that nobody but Hunter heard the front doorbell ring.
    He didn’t think much of it. After all, people came and went so quickly in that house that it could be anyone.
    But that day it was a young girl, perhaps twelve, standing in front of the big manor door with the most frightened look on her face. This doesn’t look like a Girl Scout. For one, she had no wagon