Hunter (Broken Bad Boys 1): A New Adult Bad Boy Romance by Skylar Heart Page B

his body. And not the type of muscles that you get from going to the gym—the type of muscles that you get from working hard in construction or something like that. He, in a way, looks more like a model than an artist.
    “You sound surprised.” I cock an eyebrow at him and Hunter grins as he looks at me.
    “Not really. Surprised by your style though.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt and takes it off. He drops it on the floor and slides down next to it. There are more bruises on his back and sides, dark bruises, scary bruises. They look like they really hurt. But also… there are tattoos spiraling over his chest and around to his arm. I never expected that. Sure, with his look and attitude, I should have known. I just never really expected it.
    “Like what you see?” Hunter has a satisfied grin as he looks at me through nearly closed eyes, a smile that makes my stomach do weird things.
    “You look like hell.” Oh, damn. What a silly thing to say.
    Hunter shrugs. “I feel like hell warmed over. But it’s my own fault anyway.” He lies back on the grass and closes his eyes. The sun shines off his amazing abs and I’m trying my hardest not to stare at him.
    I return to the page in front of me, drawing, doodling, but even as I busy my hands, I can already see what is forming on the page. It’s not Hunter as he is now, instead it’s him with fists coming at him fast. I keep going, adding details, making the image clearer. The image of why I can’t be with him, why Hunter is bad for me.
    Aggression, fights, getting in trouble… I don’t want a guy like that, I don’t need a guy like that. So why do I keep looking at him? Why can’t I keep my eyes off him? Why do all my drawings from the last weeks have something to do with him?

    * * *
    “ A re you sure you’re fine?” Hunter walks next to me as we step out of the clearing, into the forest.
    “Yeah, yeah. Just a little sunburn.” Sitting in the clearing, surrounded by the silence and totally focused on the image I was creating. I kind of lost track of time, and now I’m redder than a lobster.
    “A little?” He shakes his head.
    “It’s not like you’re much better.” I poke at his side and Hunter winces. “Oh, sorry, so sorry.” I’ve forgotten the bruises all over his chest and sides. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
    “It’s okay. You didn’t break me.” And there is that smile again, the one that is so hard to resist, and still, I have to.
    I roll my eyes at him. “You don’t have to walk me home, you know.”
    He shrugs. “It’s not like I’ve got better things to do anyway. It’s nice to be out here.” He keeps his strides equal with mine, keeping the same pace.
    “You’re a special kind of twisted, you know that?” I can’t help but sigh. He’s walking me home, even though he probably has better places to be. I’m on one side and the horse is walking on his other side.
    “Yeah, I know. I’m fully aware.” The smile disappears, his eyes focusing on something far away.
    And I’m totally crap at holding conversations… “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
    “You’re right though. I’m twisted. In bad ways.” There is something in his voice—a sadness, a determination—that stops me from asking any more questions. It’s that darkness again, that darkness I saw the first time I laid my eyes on him. That darkness that both attracts and repels me.
    We walk side by side, first through the forest and then through the neighborhood where I live. The trees and fields give way to boring houses, row after row after row.
    I stop when I’m in front of my door. The door to my own little place, that is, which was originally the door to the garage. “This is me.”
    Hunter blinks as he looks around, then he smiles and nods. “For someone as creative as you, you live in a boring place.”
    “I live in the garage. We converted it into a studio.” I do have some pride in where I live, especially since I’ve