Exposing the Heiress

by Jennifer Apodaca

  His muscles tensed at the mention of her belonging to another man. It had been him she’d run to, his arms that held her last night… Stop it. In a day’s time his old feelings for Alyssa, that big-brother protectiveness, had morphed into something more. Deeper, and much more possessive. Drawn to her in a way that screamed danger, he got up and settled next to her. “You really didn’t love Nate.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I wanted a baby and a family. I wanted to be safe and stable in a relationship. I thought about this a lot when I went for a run this morning.”

  “The one you didn’t want me to go on with you?” He’d been making coffee when she came out in a pair of shorts, T-shirt and running shoes.

  Shrugging, she answered, “I like to think when I run. I put on my music and go.”

  Yep, he got that. She was safe on vineyard property as long as she had her cell phone with her. “You ran for over an hour. What did you come up with?”

  “Men suck.”

  Hunt laughed. “Guess you can’t get all life’s answers in one run. But—”

  Lyssie’s phone dinged and vibrated by her thigh.

  She scooped it up and looked at the screen. “Text from Nate.”

  “Read it.”

  Her sun-warmed skin paled. “You’re not in your house, but your car is in the garage. Are we going to have a problem I need to eliminate?” Lifting her eyes, worry filled her eyes. “He’s threatening me. This is crazy, Nate’s in Europe. How does he even know I’m gone but my car is in the garage?”

  The back of Hunt’s neck prickled with danger. “You’re sure he went?”

  “Yes. Dragon Wing’s limo took him to the airport. I checked with the driver.” Alyssa shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “Someone had to get in my house and garage to realize I’m gone but my car is there.”

  “Who has a key?”

  “Nate, Jessie my housekeeper, and my friend Maxine.”

  Hunt considered it. He’d seen her gated community in Malibu. “Call the guard shack and see if they have a record of any of them going through the gates.”

  She picked up her phone, went through her contacts and made the call. Finished, she hung up. “Not Maxine or Jessie, only a dress delivery sent from an up-and-coming designer.” She rubbed her forehead. “Those always go to Dragon Wing, never my house. Even if the office sent them there since I quit, they don’t have a key and Jessie’s not there today.” A shudder ran through her. “Someone was in my house. Nate’s having me watched.”

  Lyssie’s growing anxiety yanked out his need to protect and soothe her. Care for her. No way in hell would he let her get hurt. He cupped her chin, forcing her to focus on him. “I’ll have an operative, Cooper Sims, go to your house in the next few days and sweep it for bugs and cameras. He’ll change your locks, and evaluate your security system. By the time he’s done, no one will get into your house because it will be a fortress. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Thank you, but I need to pay you too, not just—”

  Releasing her chin, he spread his hand over her shoulder, cutting her off. “Don’t.” He wasn’t taking her money. “That bastard scared you. He threatened you and your son. Until I know you’re safe, until I’m one thousand percent sure he won’t dare touch you or hurt you in any way, I’m your bodyguard. And you don’t pay me for that.” The feel of her soft, sun-warmed skin nearly singed his hand, but he stayed on point. “And no one gets through me, Lyssie. No one.”

  …

  Alyssa stared into his eyes, soaking up the feel of his hand covering her shoulder. For the first time in years, she felt safe…and more. He sat so close that his scent of soap and male, mixed with clay that always clung to him, teased her. She caught herself inhaling, trying to memorize it. But all it did was fuel her simmering desire. The want she hadn’t experienced in years. Answer him!

  “Okay.”

  “Good.”

  He didn’t move. He hadn’t shaved this morning and the shadow on his jaw added to the edge in him. This wasn’t like last night when he’d pulled her into his lap. Oh, there’d been a thrum of sexuality, but mostly it’d been trust and comfort, familiarity. A bond of old friendship.

  This? Her pulse jumped, and her nipples tightened from just the touch of his hand. She’d experienced sexual attraction before, but this was insane. It was a raw, penetrating need. She licked her lips, trying to think of something clever to say, some way to lighten the moment.

  “Don’t do that.”

  His husky growl shivered into her. “What?”

  “Lick your lips.” He leaned closer, dark intensity throbbing in his voice. “I’m barely holding back.”

  “From?”

  “Kissing you.”

  Oh God. Alyssa had dreamed of kissing him for years, craved the feel of his arms around her, his mouth exploring hers. Heat curled in her belly and her skin ached for his touch. She couldn’t resist, didn’t want to, and so leaned closer, desperate to know what Hunt’s kiss would be like.

  Hunt yanked his hand back, rubbing his palm over his face. “This is not happening.”

  Everything was changing too fast for her to keep up with. The sudden desire flaring hot and wild between them as if it’d been there for years, but was suddenly released. “I… Wow. I’ve never felt that before…”

  He turned, amusement easing the harsh need that had been stamped on his face. “No?”

  “Not that intense.” Yeah, she should probably shut up now. Or disappear. Her face heated. “Don’t you dare make fun of me. I just haven’t had sex in a while, and you’re all—” She waved her hand at him in his shorts and T-shirt. “Former Marine, dark and sexy. It happens.” Shut. Up. Please, just stop talking. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Any chance you could go away and let me drown myself in the pool?”

  “Nope.” He took her hand. “Eyes on me, cover girl.”

  Not like she had a choice. He’d sit there all day. She forced her eyes open. “Go ahead, make fun of me.”

  “I’ll make fun of you for a lot of things, but not for telling me the truth about how you feel. Ever. Got it?”

  Her humiliation eased. This was the Hunt she’d always known. He’d known she had a crush on him when she’d been a teenager, but he’d been gentle with her feelings then, too. “Maybe I won’t drown myself.”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “I was the one that damn near kissed you. I’d say we’re even.”

  “You really wanted to?”

  “Too much. There’s something about you that shreds my control and believe me, that’s not easy to do. I was wrong to even think about it. You came to me for help, you need space and a friend. Not a man who will use you and walk away.”

  Alyssa forgot her embarrassment at the hardness settling over him. Her heart twisted. What had happened to him? Was it the friends he’d lost? “Why, Hunt? You said you only have sex, not relationships. Why?”

  His mouth tightened and he turned his gaze left.

  Alyssa followed, taking in the studio. Once it had been open, full of light and laughter, music playing, with the smell of paint, turpentine and clay. Seeing it closed up tight and locked screamed wrong to her. “What do you sculpt that you need to keep locked up?”

  He turned back. “What do you take pictures of?”

  Did it matter if she told him? The sudden jack in her heart rate and her slick palms said it did—because his opinion mattered. Maybe he’d trust her if she told him. “Real people who overcome and survive. Not carefully crafted Hollywood stories, but real valor that is inspiring. At least to me.”

  Interest flared in his eyes, shoving back those awful shadows. “More.”

  Part of her wanted to tell him, but this was her love, her passion, the one thing that was truly hers. Nate and her stepfather had no interest. They were annoyed that she wasted her valuable time on a silly hobby. She had responsibilities, an obligation; after all, her mom had died and left Alyssa wealthy. Wasn’t she grateful?

  Shutting off
the voice in her head, she answered, “No, it’s your turn. What do you sculpt?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Her heart forgot to beat. Alyssa hated the isolation walling him off. He went into his studio at night and what? Last night, when she’d sat on the terrace, cold and alone, he’d pulled her into his arms. Right now she wanted to comfort him. She picked up his hand, cradling it to hers. Alyssa could feel the strength in his fingers, the power in his hand. “Once you sculpted slices of life.” Whatever caught his eye, but she’d bet her favorite camera that wasn’t what he was sculpting now. “What changed?”

  “I was a sniper.”

  Stunned, she sucked in a breath. “In the Marines?”

  He nodded once. “I left when killing became too easy. When the line that separates the good guys from the bad started to blur.” Facing her he said, “That wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore.”

  Her chest clenched. What would it take out of a man to do that kind of job? She gripped his hand when he tried to pull away. “Do you regret it?” His dream had been to be a Marine. Had it all turned to a nightmare?

  “No. What I did saved countless lives. I’d make the same choice again.”

  She tried to understand. He’d left because he didn’t want to be a sniper anymore. “But you wanted to come home, go back to being who you were… An artist?”

  His mouth thinned. “There’s no going back. I did the job and live with the consequences. I don’t sculpt slices of life anymore.” He tugged his hand from hers and stood. “Death. I sculpt death. And I don’t want that to touch you ever.”

  Oh God. Her heart ached for him as she watched him stride toward the studio, hurting and alone. Unable to bear it, Alyssa jumped up and ran after him. “Hunt, wait!”

  He swung around, the sun catching the turmoil riding his eyes and straining the harsh lines of his face. His shoulders jacked beneath his T-shirt. “Stop. Don’t touch me.”

  Freezing one foot away, she tilted her face up. “Why?”

  His stare pierced through her, yet he stayed rigidly motionless. “One touch and I’m going to kiss you. Hard. Not like whatever the fuck you were doing with your ex. If I kiss you, you’re going to feel my hunger to have you naked, wet, and wild beneath me.” He sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth. “I don’t want some prissy-ass cover girl, Lyssie, I want you.”

  This was Hunt uncensored. Not the young adult she remembered, but the damaged, lethal man. She could almost smell his lust, feel his need burning in the spotlight of his eyes. Hot shivers danced in her belly as gooseflesh erupted on her arms. The way he looked at her, seeing her exactly as she was, rolled over her common sense and shattered her reserve. She’d never had this—primitive untamed desire. Desperate to feel more of it, she laid her hand on the warm granite of his arm. “Kiss me. Don’t hold back.”

  Her words hung there for two beats, then Hunt latched his arm around her waist, easily swept her up and spun, pressing her against the side of the art studio. His hard chest pinned hers, his rugged thigh slid between hers, while his gaze raked from her eyes and down to her mouth.

  Her lips tingled in response. From just his look. She touched her mouth with her fingertips.

  Hunt growled, his eyes heating. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged, then, with his stare locked on her, he brushed his lips over her fingers and sucked them in.

  She couldn’t look away. Warm, wet lashes of his tongue bathed each digit. Every stroke arced straight to her nipples and core. She squeezed her thighs around his thick muscular leg. Her breasts swelled and ached, craving the same treatment from his tongue and lips. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and she was already on fire. “Hunt.”

  Easing her fingers out, he laced their hands together and pressed her arm over her head. With his hand on her hip, he dragged her up his thigh.

  Dear God. The friction on her clit made her gasp. Hot pleasure swirled in her belly.

  Hunt leaned in. “Make that noise again, and I’m going to do more than kiss you.”

  Nothing had ever been like this. Her entire world narrowed to the two of them. Flames licked at her spine and made her tremble. He hadn’t even kissed her, and she nearly wept with need. Shook with it. It took all she had not to rock her hips on this thigh. Somewhere deep in her mind she had an awareness that he was purposely showing her this side of himself, but if he meant to scare her, he’d miscalculated. Because for all the demanding intensity rolling off him, and the sexual heat burning between them, he’d linked his fingers with hers and softly stroked her wrist. She had no fear, just hunger and the need to meet his intensity with her own. “I want to taste you.” With her fingers in his hair, she tugged.

  …

  Hunt was screwed. No power on earth could make him deny her. With their hands joined over her head and his other holding her anchored to his thigh, Hunt took her mouth. Lyssie’s soft lips parted and he dove in. Her flavor flooded him; he tasted iced tea and lemon, along with that richer flavor that was all Lyssie.

  Time ceased to mean anything as he explored her. He slowed his assault, wanting to savor her, to absorb the feel of Lyssie. She tightened her fingers in his hair and stroked her tongue against his. Every soft moan arrowed straight to his cock. It took all his self-control not to lift her higher, spread her legs and rock against her heat. But damn, the taste of this woman drove him to the edge of reason, and the feel of her nipples stiff against his chest, the way her thighs gripped his leg, told him she wanted more.

  Oh he’d give her more…

  Fuck. What was he doing? She came to you for help and you’re all over her like a rash. Regret and self-disgust slammed into him. Jerking his mouth back, he eased her to her feet.

  Lyssie stared up at him with unfocused and confused eyes, her lips wet and swollen. Her skin was flushed all the way down her slender throat to her white stretch top that outlined her stiff nipples. His hands spasmed at his side. His muscles twitched. Hunt clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut. Get control, asshole. Less than a half hour ago, she’d been scared and upset by her ex’s text. Hunt brought her home to protect her and give her a place to feel safe. Not seduce her.

  His guts churned. He shouldn’t have touched Lyssie. She’d told him clearly what she wanted—a family. Not a damaged man like him. She was scared and lost, and had known him since she was a kid. Trusted him.

  “I… What happened?”

  Snapping his eyes open, he took in her arms crossed in front of her breasts, the warm color draining from her face. Self-consciousness had her pulling in on herself. Furious that he’d done that to her, Hunt said, “I’m the jerk, Lyssie, not you. Get that look off your face.” He couldn’t stand her doubting herself.

  Shame dimmed the fire in her. “I broke up with my fiancé two days ago, and then begged you to kiss me.”

  Every protective instinct he had went hot. Forgetting his resolve not to touch her, Hunt opened his arms and softened his voice. “Come here.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him.

  That trust nearly undid him and he buried his face in her hair. “I didn’t stop because of that asshole. You owe him nothing, not your loyalty or your body, hear me?”

  “Damn right.”

  He smiled at her muffled determination muttered against his chest. That was his girl. “I’m not going to use you for sex. You’ll get hurt.”

  She tilted her head back. “I wanted to kiss you, I just didn’t know it’d burn like that.”

  God, her honesty, he loved that, but he had to end this now or he’d make her burn until she came and then do it again—and again. Then he’d leave her, hurting her and she’d never again trust him enough to walk right into his arms. Hunt needed to be the man she trusted, even for this short time.

  “That’s why we’re not doing it again. That kind of lust gets out of control and you’ll end up scorched.” Lying to yourself now? It wasn’t just Lyssie that would get singed. There was somethin
g about this woman that was slipping beneath his skin and stirring the embers of a part of him he’d thought long dead. He shoved that away and firmed his voice. “I’m going to be your friend and protector.” He carefully set her aside, punched in the code on his art studio, and went inside. Shutting the door, he locked himself in the gloomy darkness and Lyssie out in the bright sunshine.

  Where she belonged.

  Chapter Six

  Around four a.m. Hunt dragged himself into the house. The nightmare had been rough, but trying to expel it into clay and feeling it all had left him empty and tight. His head and muscles ached, and he dropped down on the couch, picking up the remote. Finding a movie, he turned it on low, then settled back. He kicked his bare feet up and willed his body to relax.

  He heard her door open. The colorful light from the TV revealed Lyssie shuffling out, wearing a tank and PJ pants, her eyes sleepy, a line creasing her cheek from her pillow. She navigated between the corner sofa and coffee table to stare down at him.

  Oh hell no. He couldn’t do this now. For three excruciating days and nights, he’d kept his hands off her. “Go back to bed. You don’t want to be out here right now.”

  She tilted her head. “That’s not the deal. Only the studio is off-limits.” She settled on the couch next to him.

  Her warmth flowed over his skin, her scent climbing down his throat. Then she reached out, taking his hand and threading their fingers. Helplessly, he looked down at the smaller hand twined with his. Something in this throat, the tight loneliness that dogged him after sculpting out his nightmares, unlocked. “What are you doing?”

  Her brown eyes filled with softness. “Being your friend. Most nights, you go back into your room. Probably watch Netflix on your iPad or read, I don’t know, except I know you don’t sleep for a while. But tonight, you’re out here so I’ll keep you company.”

  The feel of her hand in his warmed his veins, made him want too many things he couldn’t have. “You need to sleep.” Lyssie had been busy in Skype meetings with her accountants and lawyers. Controlling her wealth was complex, plus she still owned half of Dragon Wing, and then she ran several charities with her assistant Maxine. On top of that she had her secret project…something to do with her pictures. All this and the stress that asshole Madden’s threats put on her were exhausting. He was tempted to pick her up and dump her in her bed—but he’d never walk out.