Did it not occur to Hunter how much damage he could do? Doesn’t he have a conscience? I know he’s desperate, driven by a need to keep his mum’s house but still you don’t lie to the person you love and you don’t use them for financial gain. I just don’t know what’s true and what’s not anymore.
Careful not to make a sound, I open the door and peer out. His bedroom door is open and his bed is made. I glance at the bathroom and listen for a moment. He must be downstairs. Good. I need to delay seeing him again until I can get my thoughts straight.
As I shower, I run my hands over my body and recall Hunter’s touches and kisses. They weren’t fake were they?
God, I need them so badly—need him. He’s stolen any semblance of independence I had. I’ve been so scared of opening up to anyone and now I finally have, I chose the wrong person. It doesn’t matter that he accepts my past because what if that was all lies too? I laugh at myself as I towel off and change into my suit. To think I worshipped him for being so honest. I must have looked an idiot.
I sneak downstairs. I’m not sure why. It’s not like I can avoid him. He’s in the kitchen in only loose flannel pyjama bottoms, and he looks like sin and everything I’ve ever wanted. The muscles in his arms flex and the ink on his skin dances with his movements as he swipes crumbs off the side. His hair is tousled and the scruff on his jaw seems to have grown even more overnight. I itch to scrape my fingernails through it.
He glances my way and stills. Pain and regret flashes in his gaze as he straightens. He looks… uncertain. When have I ever seen Hunter look unsure of himself? The lines around his eyes are deeper and shadows linger around them. Is he suffering just as much?
“Morning.” His Irish lilt makes my body tighten.
“Morning.”
“You’re going to work.”
“Yes.”
I stride past him and help myself to coffee. I notice he’s put out some toast but I can’t bring myself to touch it. All my hunger vanished the moment my uncle turned up on Hunter’s doorstep and blew everything apart. I shake my head to myself. To think I’d been picturing some kind of future for us.
“I’ll take you.”
“You really don’t have to.”
“You’re still in danger. Regardless of what’s happened between us, you can’t deny that.”
I sip the coffee and nod. “You’re right.”
“You’ll let me continue to protect you?”
A wry smile forces its way onto my lips. “What other choice do I have?”
His expression darkens. “I’d rather you be with me because you want to be, not because you have to.”
“Yes, that’s what I wanted too,” I shoot back.
“Touché.” He snatches up a slice of toast and takes a bite, speaking between mouthfuls. “I meant everything I said yesterday. I love you. You were always more than a job.”
The coffee burns in my stomach and I place it on the side. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore, Hunter. Let’s just find this guy and get this over and done with.”
“Then you’ll give us a chance?”
“I don’t know.”
He smirks. “That’s not a no.”
Damn his arrogance. He must know what he does to me. In my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined someone like Hunter loving me. But what if it’s just come from being forced together? Maybe it’s just some weird obsession. Clearly I’m good at picking up psychos in my life. What if I’ve unhinged Hunter?
I give myself a mental shake. No, Hunter’s never been unhinged. Methodical, careful, determined. That’s Hunter. If only I could add honest back to that list again.
“I’ll just get dressed and take you to work.” He doesn’t give me the chance to say anything, just strides off leaving me watching the pull of his muscles in his back and wishing I’d had the strength of will to wrap my hands around him and forgive him.
But I can’t. Not until I know what’s going on. What’s real and what’s not. I’ve got to wait for this all to be over. Then I’ll know for sure if Hunter O’Reilly really loves me.
Chapter Eighteen
Jess
My work day passes in a blur of paperwork and customers. There’s still the issue of Hunter’s house hanging over my head. I need to come up with a solution for him but I have my doubts he’ll accept my help. I guess I was the job he was talking about and now he doesn’t have that money coming in. I can only put things off for so long before the bank will force the issue. But, still, I’m glad for the distraction. Numbers, I like. Logical, straightforward. There’s only ever one outcome.
And a far cry from my mess of a life. Who knows how it will turn out?
Mitch picks me up to take me to Hunter’s house before my evening shift at Murphy’s. I offer him a surprised look. “How come you’re here?”
He shrugs as I climb in his Jeep. “Hunter thought you might need some time and he’s following a lead.”
I can’t decide whether to be glad or disappointed. “The production company?”
“Yeah.”
“I hope he’s not doing anything stupid.”
“Hunter rarely does anything stupid.”
I lift a brow. How much does Mitch know?
“Apart from when he messed up with you.” He chuckles
“Yeah, well…” I laugh too, even though I don’t feel amused.
“You get why he did it, right?”
“I don’t know, Mitch.”
“Well, it’s not my place to say anything…”
“Then don’t. Please?” I offer him a smile to soften my words. Mitch has only ever been guilty of being a good friend and probably even has the potential to be a friend to me if Hunter and I ever end up together. If. Big if. “Thanks for giving me a lift.”
“Hey, it’s what I do.”
“It can’t be much fun babysitting me, especially when you’re used to glamorous celebrities.”
Mitch pulls us into Hunter’s road and I tense. “Whatever you believe, Jess, Hunter’s a good guy. I’d do anything for him and he’d do the same for me. He took on a lot when his mother was sick and her death hit him hard. He’d always hoped to take care of her properly one day. Nice retirement home and everything.” He pulls the Jeep up outside of the house and sighs. “But you know all this, right?”
“Some of it,” I mumble.
I’m still not sure I’m ready to admit he’s a good guy. Good guys don’t try to get someone to fall for them to get information. They don’t lie and then tell them they love you when things aren’t going right. It smacks of emotional blackmail. Do I know Hunter? I mean, really know him?
“Wait in the car,” Mitch orders before climbing out.
I watch him scanning the area. I’d be amused at being treated like a VIP except apprehension thrums though me. Lucas was pushy, demanding with a penchant for the younger ones, including me. Many of the girls slept with him to save their jobs. He sickened me but not just that, his reaction to my refusal was with such a quiet calm that it freaked me out. He quietly threatened my job. Then I saw the other side of him when he tried to force himself on me. It was too close to what my uncle had done to me. I freaked. His last words before I left were to tell me I’d regret not giving into him.
Is this what he meant?
Mitch opens the door and ushers me quickly into the house. I suck in a breath as I realize Hunter is in the kitchen.
“Thanks, Mitch. I didn’t know if I’d be back in time,” Hunter says.
“No worries. Just let me know if you need anything. I’m still in between jobs at the moment so I’m at a loose end.”
“Thanks, Mitch,” I mumble as he leaves.
He offers me a grin. “Anytime. Be nice to our boy,” he says in a low voice before shutting the door.
I turn back to Hunter and he stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets. “Good day?” he asks.
“Fine.” I sweep past him and dump my handbag on the kitchen side. This cold politeness makes my stomac
h churn. I almost wish he was back to brashly declaring his love for me and telling me he won’t let me go. “So… Mitch said you were following up on the production company. Any luck?”
He studies me for a moment, his jaw ticking. Tension riddles his body, I can see it in the stark sinew of his body. “No, not yet.”
“That’s it?”
“I went to an address that his business is registered to. It’s unoccupied. No sign of it being used. Either he’s not set up yet or it’s a false address.”
“You went there? It could have been dangerous.”
“I’m a big boy, Jess.”
“Why a false address?”
“Not sure. It doesn’t make much sense if he’s genuinely trying to set up a new company. Perhaps he’s expecting his stalking activities to catch up with him and doesn’t want to be easily tracked down.”
I sigh and rub my forehead.
“Headache?”
He comes up behind me, a hand curling around the back of my neck. I stiffen even as the heat of his palm seeps into my skin and soothes the tension bubbling inside me. He sweeps aside some of the loose strands from my updo and uses his thumb to rub the back of my neck. Need and despair mingle in my belly. I’m so weak when it comes to him, it’s ridiculous. I still haven’t forgiven him or decided how to move forward, yet when he touches me I just want to fling myself into his arms and lose myself to him.
“I’ve got to get changed for work,” I mutter.
“You’ve got two hours.”
The hand on my neck wraps further around and Hunter eases himself against me. I become aware of strong thighs, a wide chest, and powerful hips pressing into me. I become aware of his arousal.
His scent surrounds me—cologne and a little sweat. I can’t help but draw it in. My body softens of its own accord.
“Two hours is plenty,” he murmurs in my ear.
Blood races through my veins, pumps hard and begs me to give into him. That hand sweeps my neck and jawline and lips follow it. They’re firm and demanding, barely hinting at the love behind the kiss, but I feel that in the way he holds my waist with the other hand. That touch is tender. I feel fragile and precious in that embrace.
Bolts of sensation arrow down between my legs. A sound too close to a whimper for my liking escapes. My resolve has melted into a puddle which is what I’ll be doing if I’m not careful.
“I’ve thought of nothing but you all day.” Hunter skims his teeth across my neck. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how much I love you.”
Something incoherent slips from my lips. A word of protest or acquiescence? Who knows? Sparks ignite in my brain, fire flows through me. It can only be quenched by Hunter. And he damn well knows it.
The hand on my waist comes up to the buttons on my shirt. The pop of one button sounds loud even though it took a mere flick to open it. Then coarse fingers skim the tops of my breasts and I sigh. We’ve been apart all of one night and I didn’t realize how much I missed his touch already. The rough texture of the hair on his chin rubs my neck and sensitizes it. I feel as though I might crackle with static.
I’d been so preoccupied with the hurt he’d inflicted, I forgot about this. Forgot how weak he makes me. A shiver makes itself known, wracking my body.
“I need you, princess.”
I stiffen. That word. The endearment I used to love has taken on a new meaning. For a while it was painful to hear, then he made me believe it. But I recall what he must have thought of me. Now the word sounds bitter to my ears.
“Why do you call me that?”
“What?” His hand leaves me breast and a chill sweeps over me.
“Princess? Why do you call me that?”
He chuckles. “Because you’re my princess. Because I want to treat you like one.”
I try to wriggle out of his hold but he keeps me held to him. His muscles tense against me. Sweat tingles on the back of my neck, in part created by the heat between us, but my belly swoops and dives as I fidget again. I’m not scared of Hunter but I’m scared of the effect he has on me. He doesn’t want to let me go, physically or emotionally by the looks of it and I don’t know if I can fight him either way.
“I don’t believe you. You began calling me that way before we grew close.”
“That’s true. But it’s in the past. Nothing changes the fact that you’re my princess, Jessie. Mine. Understand?”
I shake my head. “You can’t possess me. I’ve had men own my body. I won’t let that happen again.”
He drops his arms as if stung by my words. I don’t turn to face him but I imagine him scraping a hand through his hair.
“I’m nothing like them,” he says tersely.
I turn then, arms wrapped around myself. His brow is creased, eyes dark. Tense lines crease around his lips, barely disguised by the dark hair on his jaw.
“I know—”
His head snaps up. “Do you?” He steps close again and looms over me. I’m bent against the kitchen counter. His chest comes flush against mine and my traitorous body responds again. “When I say you’re mine, I don’t mean your body, Jess. I mean your heart.” Hunter steps back and smacks a hand against his chest. “You own me and if you let yourself I know you’d figure out that I’m in your heart too. And there’s no changing that. Your past, my past, none of it will change that. You can fight this as much as you want but I’ll still be there, just as you’ll always be in mine.”
I pin my shaky hands under my armpits, mind reeling from his words. The heart in question throbs against my ribs as if reaching out for him. “I—” I’m too weak, I want to say. Too scared. Too distrustful. None of it comes. I’ve been played with too many times now. Betrayed once too often. If I accept all this, there will be no going back.
“I was an asshole. I wanted money. Nothing was worth hurting you for, but believe me, I will make up for it. You just have to let me in.” He says the last part through his teeth. It verges on a growl of frustration. “You have to let me in,” he repeats.
The ache in my throat threatens to strangle me. My vision blurs and I spin away before I can weaken. It’s all too much for me to take in—that kind of love. Can I even live up to it? I storm upstairs and hide myself in the spare bedroom. When no footsteps follow, I cry. I cry because of the hurt in my chest and the tainted memories, and I cry because, in spite of myself, I wanted him to follow.
When the sun has dropped and the street lights are on, I finally emerge from the bedroom. I have my full make-up on, something I’d been cutting down on since the truth came out. I still need some kind of disguise, particularly for being at the bank, but the terror I’d lived with had eased in Hunter’s presence. But not today. I need protection. Dressed in leather trousers and a Murphy’s tee, I draw up my shoulders and try to reform the plates of my armour. It seems Hunter has put too many dents in it because as soon as I see him, all in leather too, I want to fling myself against him.
“You ready?”
I nod. “Are we taking the bike?”
“Yeah.” His gaze skims me. “You’re dressed for it.”
I go to snatch the jacket I normally wear from the hook in the hallway and pause. I’ve fallen in love with the jacket. The subtle smell of Hunter in the leather always comforts me but I’m not sure it will do that now. Sucking in a short breath, I fight to remain emotionless and slip it on. The warmth and scent surrounds me like a shroud and when I look at Hunter, I find him watching me in that way that makes my toes curl. I remember the first time I wore this jacket. Is he remembering the same?
It’s weird because we really barely knew each other then and he thought I was a criminal but he still looked at me like I was his world at that moment.
I shrug off the thought and stalk past him to the back door.
He wheels the bike out, hands me a helmet and gestures with his head. “You getting on then?”
I shake my head to myself. I know why he’s chosen the Harley today. I’ll end up pressed against him and h
e’ll be hoping it weakens me. I snort. Too late. I’m already pathetic around him. It doesn’t stop the painful hurt from swirling through me though. He worked for my abuser. The man who effectively ruined my life. How am I meant to get past that? Even if I… feel for Hunter, won’t it always be tainted?
I climb on, try to keep a gap between us and force my thoughts to drift when we set off. Being on the bike works through my muscles and the powerful engine between my legs eases my tension. Before long, I’m flush against Hunter and enjoying the moment. Guess I’m hopeless when it comes to Hunter on a motorbike.
We pick up speed and round a corner, barely slowing down. I’m used to Hunter driving fast but this isn’t like him. I grip him tight as we head for the next street corner and he still doesn’t slow down. Have I angered him with my distant attitude? I never thought him the type to let his driving be affected by his mood. People, cars and traffic lights seem blurry when we turn too hard and the world tilts. It happens quickly. I can barely comprehend what’s happening.
The ground rushes up to meet me. Searing pain burns through my arm as it hits. My head rattles and I see gravel and red buses. When I stop rolling, I can’t move. Every part of me aches and I struggle to draw in breath and figure out what just happened. I roll my head to one side and through the cracked visor, I can just make out Hunter sprawled across the pavement. Lifeless.
Chapter Nineteen
Jess
Bleeping. The smell of chemicals. An ache in my head. Panic welling in my chest. I try to force open my eyes but someone seems to have glued them shut. Crisp cotton encases me, holds me down. It rustles and I hear voices—muffled, concerned voices.
Light invades my eyes as I finally drag them open and it hurts. I close my eyes and try again. A face comes into view, her features distorted.
“Who…?” My voice is gravelly.
Gravel. It stings. I remember it now. The bike skidding on a corner. The road coming up to meet me.
Too Much to Lose Page 18