by Snow, Nicole
“Well, yeah. I mean, could you –”
“Ben, I can't. This has to be you.”
“Please, Wendy. He’s...he's different since he met you. I’ve barely been allowed to go anywhere on my own, but he’ll listen to you. You can make him understand. He won't have to worry I'm growing up too fast if it's coming from you.”
I feel bad for him, but I shake my head. “No, Ben, I won’t talk to him for you. I wish I could, honey. You have to do it, and if he says it’s okay, then here's what I'll do: I’ll talk to my dad about your hours. I bet we can figure something out. And my mom, who's the toughest one of the two.”
That makes him grin because he knows it's true.
“Fair?”
“Yeah, fair.” He sighs real heavy and stands up. “Thanks, Wendy. I’ll talk to Dad tomorrow. Can't be worse than the game, right?”
“No.” Smiling, I shake my head, and then reach out and ruffle his hair. “You'll do fine.”
I put my hand on the dresser to push away from it and leave, but I rattle something off the top that hits the ground with a thud. Real smooth.
“Oops, sorry!” Pivoting, I pause when I realize what I'm holding.
It's pictures in heavy metal frames. Wedding pictures.
“I’ll get those,” Ben says. “They’re of my mom and dad.”
Mom. That one word just confirms it.
I’d already picked up two. In one, there's a woman, a very pretty woman, that I can tell is Ben’s mother.
He has her not-quite-Hunter-blue eyes.
The other picture is a far-off wedding day shot of her and a man, dressed in fine attire and standing under a tree. Hunter, at least fifteen years younger.
I look closer. A shiver tickles my spine.
Wait. That’s not Hunter. The man looks like him. A lot. So much they're almost identical twins.
But those aren’t his eyes. They aren’t blue enough. Bold enough. They're the wrong freaking shade, even if it's off by a shade only a woman who's seen how those eyes flash when he comes could know.
I'm trembling. What the hell is going on here?
Ben looks at me in awkward silence, holding his hand out. I hand him the pictures. “She’s very pretty. You have her eyes.”
He nods. “She died in a fire when I was two, so I don’t remember her. It's too bad. It’s just been me and Dad since then.”
My desire to escape is greater now than before.
Dad? I wonder...
“Well, I have to go. Gotta get up early. Have a good night!” It's a miracle my voice doesn't crack from what I've just seen.
“Thanks, Wendy. Thanks for a great day, and I’ll text you, tell you what Dad says tomorrow.”
I force myself not to race for the door. “Sounds good. It was a great day. 'Night, Ben.”
Once I’m in the hall, I do bolt. Not a full-fledged run, but my fastest speed walk.
As I scurry down the hall, and then down flights of steps, my mind twists, turns, and jumbles. So do my insides.
What's Hunter Forsythe playing at? By the time I hit the front foyer, I’m pissed because the possibilities are endless. And the answers, nowhere to be found.
Hearing Hunter in the kitchen, I move and don’t even wait for him to turn around before I ask sharply, “What the hell are you doing?”
He holds up a cup, a stunned look in his eye. “Loading the dishwasher.” A frown fills his face. “What happened? What did Ben say?”
“It’s not what Ben said, Hunter. More like what I saw.”
He sets the cup down and stands up straight. His eyes demand answers.
“What'd you see?”
“A wedding picture.” I march toward the laundry room to get my coat.
He steps in front of me, nodding. “Me and Juno, Ben’s mother. That's it, isn't it? She died when he was only two.”
No. Hell no, I'm not having it, whatever weird lies he's about to drop. I shake my head and dodge around him, so disappointed it hurts. Why won't he tell me? Do I even want to know?
He grabs my arm. “Wendy, what's –”
“That’s not you,” I hiss. “In that wedding picture. That’s not you.”
His face falls and he lets go of my arm, staring very seriously. “It's me. I don't know what you're –”
“Don’t lie to me, Hunter! God.” I shake my head. “What are you doing? I know your eyes, and the ones in that picture aren't yours.”
He shakes his head.
I don’t know what to say besides, “You’re lying. I can tell.”
I’m not sure where the thought comes from, but it hits like a lightning bolt. “Holy crap. You have a twin brother, don't you? He’s the man in the picture.”
Hunter makes his move like a panther. Grabbing my arm, he drags me through the kitchen and into the hall, before I even realize what's happening.
I try to dig my heels in, which doesn’t help much, besides making a few loud squeals on the floor.
Sure he’s going to get the picture, I hiss, “Leave Ben out of this!”
Whatever this is.
“Damn right, we’ll leave Ben out of this.” He marches me into his office and shuts the door. Then when we're face to face, those eyes are all fire. “Tell me one thing: how the hell do you know about Cory?”
Cory. A name I've heard him say once before, before he caught himself.
“Who's –” I wrench my arm from his hold. I’d seen the tattoo, too.
The name Cory, on his chest, over his heart, last night, a date in the early 2000s stamped into it. For some weird reason, I assumed it must have been his wife with a weird spelling.
“You do have a brother. A twin brother. Is he Ben’s real father, or...or...” My anger hits a new level. I can't even speak. I'm confused, shocked, and thoroughly disgusted. “Or did you have an affair with Ben’s mother? Is that what you're keeping from him? Is that why you keep him on such a short leash?”
“Short leash? I don’t keep Ben on any kind of leash at all, woman.”
“Yes, you do.” Flustered, because this is crazy. Flipping crazy. “You can’t buy what Ben needs, but that’s not the issue right now.”
Done. So done. I level a glare on him. “Just answer my question. Are you Ben’s real father or not?”
He runs both hands through his hair and then heaves out a slow, painful sigh. “Yes. And no.”
I do a double take, my mouth open but silent. “What...what the hell kind of answer is that?”
“I’m not Ben’s biological father, Wendy. I adopted him. It's official, legal, papers from the state, everything. After his real parents died, I took him in. There was nobody better.”
The pain on his face is real. Very real.
But I still need more before I let him off the hook. “Who are his real parents then?”
“My brother, Cory, and his wife...Juno.”
My temple won't stop throbbing. I grab both sides of my head for a second, and then drop my arms, smacking both hips. This doesn't make sense.
“Why? Why the secrecy? Why are you pretending – what? – to be your own brother?” My mind is twisted in knots. “Who are you? Or are you actually Cory and Hunter’s dead...and he was Ben’s real father?”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t know how many times I’ve wished that. Cory's dead. So is Juno. They're Ben’s parents. And I killed them.”
I freeze. “You what?!”
He walks over and stares out the window, into the wintry darkness. The cheerful Christmas lights strung along all the big houses nearby suddenly make everything look haunted, rather than festive.
“Cory and I started Landmark together. He got our first big contract. A few years later, we were doing well. Very well. He met Juno. They got married fast. Life couldn’t have been better.” He turns around and shakes his head. “Then there was that fucking fire at their house. A gas leak, supposedly. The basement blew up. Everything burned.”
There's this hard, painful softness in his voice, matching
his icy blue eyes. I step closer. “Jesus. I'm sorry. How did Ben survive?”
He swallows. “Sloan. He arrived just after the fire started. Said he'd come by to drop off a letter, to fix shit with Cory. They'd been at each other's throats ever since I brought him into the company. Different visions. Different teams. Different attitudes. Ben was upstairs in his playpen. He grabbed him, carried him outside right in the nick of time, but Cory and Juno were trapped. There was nothing he could do.”
My heart is breaking for him. The pain on his face is so real. I take his hand, pull him to the sofa, and make him sit.
There's also something I can't stop thinking about. “You mentioned your friend? Sloan?”
He looks up, a darkness in his eyes. “I know what you're thinking. Don't, Wendy. The police did a full investigation, and so did I. Besides...he'd never do something so horrible. He saved my life, and Ben's.”
“Your life?” I stiffen. “I'm not sure I –”
“We were in the Marines together. Afghanistan. I was a Corporal, and he was the last man who didn't get blown to pieces when our unit hit an improvised bomb and ran smack into an ambush. Shrapnel hit my knee. I was bleeding out bad, couldn't think, could barely see the bastards closing in. Taliban. Sloan, he...”
Hunter pauses, gathering his thoughts. I run my fingers up his arms, wishing I hadn't dredged all this up. But I couldn't just forget what I saw in Ben's room.
“Sloan saved me. He got us evacuated in one piece, and several other good men, too. That's why I brought him into Landmark. That's why I cut him so much slack. Cory didn't like it, insisted he was fucking off as our security chief, giving some foreign agents a backdoor to snoop through our files.” He shakes his head. “I never found any proof. And it didn't seem likely, not with a company as new as ours was at the time. Still, I got those two together. Made them talk it out. Sloan was on his way to bury the hatchet when the universe kicked us square in the balls.”
“I'm sorry.”
So, so sorry. I didn't think it was possible for his wounded beast schtick to break my heart even more, but it happens.
“I never planned on not telling Ben.” He’s staring into the room, not really looking at anything. “I kept thinking I’d tell him when he was old enough to understand. Thing is, he never seems old enough, and now...now he’ll hate my guts if he finds out.”
I hate to add to his burdens, but I have to. “I'm sure you'll find a way. Sooner or later. He deserves the truth. You're a good dad, Hunter. And a good man.”
His eyes snap open and narrow. “You think I don’t know that?”
I’m glad to see he’s no longer in a stupor, but have to wonder why I’m still here.
Digging myself in deeper and deeper, apparently.
“I know you know it, and now I know why things are like this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sit down next to him. “The reason you’ve kept Ben so close, I mean. So well protected. There are people who might know the truth, and you don’t dare let him out of your sight in case they tell him.”
12
Phantom Pain (Hunter)
I should be furious.
Should just tell her to leave, and mind her own fucking business, but I can’t.
I don’t want Sugar to go. And even though I hate to admit it, she’s right.
She's thrown the truth in my face, and it scares the shit out of me. “It was really the eyes that gave it away?” I let Ben keep them, but I shouldn’t have. I knew it.
“Yeah,” she tells me, smiling softly.
Shit. That’s how Aunt Margo always said she could tell us apart years ago. Juno, too.
Cory used to boast about how it was all in the eyes. He’d laugh then, and usually add, and in the pants.
“You can’t see the eyes in those pictures. They’re too far away.” That’s what I'd thought, and why I let Ben keep them.
A gentle smile curves up the sides of her lips. “I can. Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you, Hunter. They're the first thing I see every time I look at you now. They’re truly unforgettable.”
The authenticity in her voice hits me deeply, pulls me down into the dark undertow.
I don't deserve this woman. She’s affected me too deeply since the moment I met her.
Truth is, I’d know in an instant if she was in a picture or not. I lean back into the couch and take ahold of her hand. “Bullshit, Wendy. It's you who's the unforgettable one.”
It’s odd, this sensation I’m feeling. Like a weight just fell off my shoulders. Like there’s a strange, dangerous comfort in someone else knowing besides Sloan.
No, not someone else. Her. My Sugar and Spice.
“You have to tell him,” she says quietly, leaning over and resting her head on my shoulder.
“Yeah. I will.” I should have long ago.
I'd planned on it more than once, but something would happen, and I’d put it off. Or else I'd hear about all the bad things that might happen, whenever Sloan gave his two cents.
I know he wasn't trying to screw me over. He's worried about Ben, the same as me. He really is his nephew, the only other family me and Ben have.
Wendy snuggles closer. “Just be patient with Ben. It’s going to take him some time to understand, but he will. Eventually.”
Eventually? It’s been twelve years and I still don’t understand. I don't know anything.
A gas leak. That’s what the investigations concluded. They’d lived in that house two years, had it built right before Ben was born. No one had worked on anything since they'd had it installed.
It made no sense that a fitting could just start leaking. Everything else checked out too, but I still can’t believe it.
She grasps my chin, pulls my face toward hers, and kisses me so softly, I wonder if her lips are touching mine. Needing them to, I kiss her back.
Then I’m instantly consumed.
The secretive glances we've shared all evening were fun, enticing, and recalling them pushes everything else aside. I need her right the fuck now.
Our mouths gather heat, kissing so fast and hard we might just start a fire. Seething blood runs straight to my dick. I pull off her t-shirt and get rid of her bra so I can take one of those amazing tits into my mouth. I love teasing her nipples like nothing else.
An odd sensation fills my chest with warmth. I don't dare say what it is.
Or think it. Because if I'm falling like a fool for Sugar and Spice, if she's really got her hooks in that deep...I'm beyond fucked.
Right now, though, I'm ready to do the fucking.
Because she's all Spice, undoing my jeans with quick, eager work from her fingers, then pumping my cock as hard as I’m sucking her tits. The Sugar's there, though, because she's that addicting.
The next few minutes are a flurry of clothes being thrown off. I end up lying on the couch, with her straddling me, her sweet body perched on mine.
Her cunt is the world's worst tease. Wet, hot, and something I can’t wait to sink deep inside.
“There’s a condom in my pants pocket,” I growl.
She grins. “Do you always carry one around?”
I reach up, rolling a nipple between my thumb and finger, loving how her eyes go shut and she moans.
“One fell out of the box when I was putting them away a few days ago. Took it as a sign to keep an emergency backup around.” I lift my hips so my cock rubs against her pussy, the head of my dick touching her clit. “Get it. Wendy, fuck, now.”
Her grin turns almost wicked. “Only...only if I can put it on you.”
I almost shoot off right there. “Whatever,” I snap, too horny to say more.
She rubs her little ass against my hand, pushing her slick pussy against my dick. “Whatever, I can put it on you?”
“Yeah!” I snort.
With a giggle, she reaches down and grabs my pants. Then she rises up and scoots backward.
The tip of my cock slides along her pussy a
gain and I hold my breath in order to keep control.
She sits on my thighs, opening the package. It’s all I can do to not grab it and shove it on. Ever so slowly, she places it over the head of my hard-on, and then rolls it down, grinning and glancing between me and the condom.
She knows she’s killing me. She knows she needs it as bad as I do. And I fucking love it.
When it’s finally on to her satisfaction, she once again rises up on her knees and scoots forward. “Right here?” she asks, her pussy positioned perfectly above my length.
“Yeah, baby girl. There.”
She lowers herself a fraction of an inch. “You’re sure. Right here?”
My eyes are hot death on her smiling, teasing face.
I can see how much she loves what she’s doing. So, I arch up, just enough to part her folds and smile at how her eye lids flutter. “Sure. Right the hell there.”
She humps against me. “Okay. Right –”
“Here,” I growl, thrusting upward, sinking into her heat.
We both groan as she surrenders, sinking onto me.
She’s so tight around me, so perfect, I could bury myself in her and come right now, but that'd be a shameful waste of all her playfulness.
Instead, I grab her hips, forcing both of us to take it slow and easy. The slow burn that ignites with every unhurried stroke is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Her head tossed back, her eyes closed, me thrilled at her pleasure, the noises she makes in every stroke as overwhelming as mine.
Her pussy clenches my dick, and knowing she’s about to come, I whisper, “Not yet, babe. Wait for me.”
She clenches around me again, biting her lip, nipples swollen like marbles. “Hunter...”
“It’s not time.” I glide out of her and then back in, keeping the pace deliberately slow.
I’ve never been this focused on building a woman's O, just slowly pulling it out of her stroke by vicious stroke. I don’t want this to end. Not ever.
“Keep going,” I tell her, my voice a raw snarl of desperation.
She gasps, nods, and shudders at the power, the sheer will, it takes to hold back while we're fucking away.