Gia

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Gia Page 8

by Lexi Buchanan


  “Shit, Gia.” He pulls me into his arms and holds me while I sob against him. “Baby, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. Is it your arm?”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” I whisper.

  Hunter freezes.

  “What? I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’ll have to go into the office, but I’ve no intention of leaving you.”

  I pull out of his arms and walk a few steps away. “You’re not leaving me?”

  “Hell no! That’s what you thought?” he asks, looking pissed.

  But then he walks over to me and cups my face in his hands. “I’ve fallen for you. You’re under my skin. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go. Do you understand me, Gia? You’re mine. I don’t share.”

  Nodding my head, I go back into his arms and hold on tight. “I love you, Hunter. It was breaking my heart thinking that you didn’t want me.”

  He laughs. “Haven’t I just shown you how much I want you. God, Babe, I don’t have the strength to walk away from you. I’m going to have to go into the office to sort paperwork out, but you’re coming with me. Unless it’s an assignment, you come with me everywhere.” He kisses me on my forehead. “This is what I meant when I said we need to talk. I want you with me Gia, and I’m too damn old to live with your father so we need to find somewhere else, and fast. Somewhere that has security.”

  I start laughing. “You really are serious? You want me.”

  “Woman, you are seriously going to piss me off if you don’t start believing I’m fuckin’ in love with you.”

  Hunter slams his lips down onto mine, and when I open my lips, he slips his tongue between and savors my taste.

  “I’m going to be sharing your bed until we find somewhere, and this time there will be nothing innocent about it,” he says.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  THE END

  Hunter and Gia’s story continues in Hunter, releasing in 2015.

  Chapter One

  Seduce

  McKenzie Brothers, Book 1

  I was lying on the bed naked; ignoring the twinge of disappointment as I listend to David shuffling around the bathroom. No doubt he was in there getting cleaned up after our session of sex – at least, that’s what I’d call it. Sex with David over the past five months had involved a couple of open mouth kisses, a few licks and nibbles to my breasts, a finger inside me for a brief moment before he would push home – sweat and groans covering my neck. Within seconds of entering me, he would shudder and release into the condom. I would lie there, panting fake sighs into his ear as I ached to feel something, anything, besides dissatisfaction. Every time, I would feel that way and all I really wanted to do was curl up on my side and cry.

  David and I had been together since high school; some seven years. We were both seventeen when he moved to my town and within a week of him starting school, we were inseparable.

  He was my first kiss, my first date, my first lover. Sighing, I turned over and stared at the photos of our life together on the nightstand. We lived together while we attended the same college and then moved to the same city after graduation. We even worked for the same company, up until two weeks ago, when I lost my job, along with two hundred other employees. David still worked there and for the past week, he’d been making comments about my unemployed status as though it was my fault I no longer had a job.

  Secretly, I’d been looking for another job because I’d started to want something else. I’d actually felt relief when the company let me go. For the first time in a long time I was free, and there was nothing David could say about it. Or at least that’s what I thought.

  David on the other hand, thought differently. My life had a constant soundtrack playing of how it was my fault. David told me on nearly a daily basis that if I hadn’t been ‘gathering wool’ during the department meetings, the boss wouldn’t have noticed and I wouldn’t have made the ‘let go’ list.

  Ugh. I glared at the photograph of us at the company retreat five months ago. That was when I’d noticed a change in him. When our sex life had turned into a one-man-sprint. Up until then, we had what I’d call a ‘normal’ sex life. Not always full of passion, but there was always mutual enjoyment.

  Well, I could honestly say I hadn’t had an orgasm since then, and I really didn’t think David gave a damn. Not only had that started to piss me off – I also found it upsetting. We were still together years after all our friends told us we wouldn’t last, but I was beginning to think that perhaps they were right.

  David was my lifeline, the only family I had since my parents died in the car crash five years ago. I had no siblings to see me through it and I’d clung to David even more than I had before. He was my security blanket. I came to this conclusion after I’d talked with a shrink for three years after their death – without David’s knowledge.

  The tap in the bathroom turned off, which warned me David would be out soon. I glanced at the clock, and knew now would be the best time to tell him I was due to start a new job in the offices of McKenzie Holdings. I hadn’t told anyone about this job, simply because I wanted something that was mine and mine alone, at least for a while. With how David had been lately, he would probably have had a great deal to say about it, not to mention the fact that the company belonged to Michael, Sebastian, Ruben, Lucien and Ramon McKenzie. Sebastian McKenzie was always in the paper with one starlet or another. Michael, the second oldest, was only ever in the paper when the company was mentioned and there was never a photograph. Ruben and Lucien made the paper, but not as often as their brother Sebastian.

  I’d never met the brothers, a Mr. Roberts had interviewed me for the position and I’d liked him instantly. I smiled as I thought about him; his grey hair, slight paunch and smiling eyes had reminded me of my grandfather who past away when I was about eleven years old. I’d signed the contract then and there and I was to be Mr. Robert’s assistant, which, I had to say, I really looked forward to.

  I quickly glanced towards the clock and groaned. I really needed to get out of bed, shower and dress, but David was hogging the bathroom. I would just have to rush after he’d left for work. I certainly didn’t want to share.

  The bathroom door started to open, so I quickly covered myself with the quilt and pretended to still be asleep. Having a conversation with him was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Peeping through my eyelashes, I watched David fasten his watch onto his wrist, and put his wallet into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He then collected his keys from the nightstand without even glancing my way before he walked out of the bedroom. I held my breath and watched the bedroom door as I listened to him shuffle down the hallway, detesting every noise that he made. A few minutes later, I heard the front door to the apartment open then close and the lock slip into place. No goodbye from the door, no quick kiss to the forehead. It was as though I’d stopped existing the moment he’d slid his body from mine.

  I was slowly coming to the conclusion that our relationship was over. Tears stung my eyes at the thought. Part of me just wanted to lie in bed all day and cry, another part of me felt relief that I was ready to take the steps to end it. The only problem I had was, if – or should I say when – I left, I didn’t have anywhere to go or enough money to pay a deposit on another apartment. I was going to have to save every dollar I could from now on and bide my time.

  With a sigh, I flung the quilt from me and climbed out of bed. Stretching out my sore muscles, I walked into the bathroom, grimacing at the mess he’d made in the sink. I rinsed the sink out while staring at my pale complection through the mirror above. Usually my skin tone was more olive because of my dark hair, but not today. I brushed my teeth before I slipped into the scorching shower and scrubbed David from my skin.

  With a towel wrapped around me and my hair still wet, dripping down my back, I stood and looked into my closet, not sure what I should wear. Did I go for the professional look? Or the professional hot chick look? I decided to go for in betwe
en. The professional girl who could become a sultry vixen at night. I smiled to myself as I took my navy blue suit from the hanger, then placed it on the bed while I hunted around for the white blouse I liked to wear with it. Spotting it hiding in the back of the closet, I pulled it out and placed it on the bed with my other clothes. I quickly dressed in my white lace underwear – wearing sexy underwear under my suits always made me feel more confident.

  I fastened the blouse and pulled up the skirt, which was fitted to my curvy shape and came to rest a couple of inches above my knees. Not too short to be indecent for the office and not too long to make me look older than my twenty-four years.

  Another root around in my closet and I found the blue matching heels, which made my legs look longer than they were. I stood back appraising myself in the mirror – I looked hot, especially with my hair pinned up in disarray on my head. David used to think it made me look sexy. Not these days.

  Taking a deep breath, I shook my head of unpleasant thoughts and walked out of the apartment and to my new job.

  Chapter One

  Sizzle

  Bad Boy Rockers, #1

  The lumps of the new sofa dug painfully into my back as I wriggled to a new position; equally as uncomfortable as the first. I would never understand how Callie had convinced me to purchase it. I hated it – from the color, a sickly brown; sienna according to the designer, to the numerous lumps and bumps that you couldn’t escape, regardless of how you were sitting on it. It reminded me of the old, beat up sofa in my mom’s sunroom. The very one my uncle had hauled out and deposited in the tree house we’d built behind the tall cottonwoods.

  I smiled at the memory. My first make out session had happened in that tree house, on that sofa. Ethan. Ethan Rock; the school jock and biggest asshole. He’d sweet talked his way into the tree house with every intention of getting to third base. I’d ended up kneeing him in his junk when my father shouted at me from the base of the tree; he’d frightened the shit out of us. Ethan, of course hadn’t spoken to me again, but what a memory.

  “Thalia, what the hell are you grinning at?”

  “Ethan Rock,” I replied to my roommate Callie, her voice shaking me from the memory.

  “Huh, I don’t think I know him. You going to eat this Spaghetti Bolognese?”

  I turned my head to look at her and burst out laughing. “Is there any left in the pan?” Her apron seemed to have a hell of a lot of red sauce all over it.

  Callie was the world’s worst chef, and always insisted the next meal she cooked would be better than the previous one. That was so not going to happen.

  “Ha, funny.”

  “When’s it ready?”

  “Ten minutes,” she said, before turning back into the small, cramped kitchen.

  “Okay.” I hoped I wouldn’t regret eating what she’d made.

  I’d met Callie within a couple of weeks of starting our freshman year at college, both of us studying English Literature – close to three years ago. After the summer break we’d be back as seniors. We couldn’t wait to strut our stuff around campus. Shit, who was I kidding? We had it all planned, or at least Callie did. I had no clue as to where I wanted to go, or what I wanted to do, but I figured if I had an English degree, it would open more doors for me, once I’d fully made my mind up.

  All I did know was that I wasn’t going home when I graduated next year. I shuddered at the thought.

  Both of my parents treated me like a child when I was home, right down to the nine pm curfew. I sighed thinking of them. I was twenty-one and, wanted to be like most twenty-one year old girls; allowed to enjoy myself before I got completely snowed down with a job and other responsibilities.

  Wherever I ended up, I knew that it would be with Callie, although at that thought I realized I’d have to learn to cook if we didn’t want to survive on take-out or die from food poisoning.

  Dragging my carcass from the sofa, I walked the short distance to the bathroom, which was as small as the kitchen. In the tight space, I could touch the toilet, washbasin and shower and feel cramped in doing so. There was barely enough room at the sink to wash up for dinner.

  Rent was cheap so I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. My parents gave me a monthly allowance that covered the rent, bills and food. I even had some left over, which I put away for rainy days or when I’d finished college, along with the money from my part-time job.

  I sighed, turning the faucet on, I splashed cold water onto my face. Green eyes returned my gaze in the mirror. Groaning, I realized my dark curly hair, which had been secured in a band at the back of my head, had come loose. Stray hairs were sticking up all over my head in disarray. I pulled the towel from the rail and dried my face, with an extra swipe over my freckled nose, in hope that one or two freckles would get stuck on the towel. I hated freckles! My red hairbrush was in the container to the side of the tub, so I quickly grabbed it, removed the band from my hair, and ran the brush through it, deciding to leave it hanging around my shoulders.

  Refreshed, I walked into the kitchen, and took a seat at our two-person table while Callie spooned sauce on to the pasta.

  She placed the plate in front of me and I couldn’t hold the grimace in as the sharp odor of unknown spices drifted from the plate. Oh boy.

  “Thalia, I promise it’s...tasty,” she reassured me between bites. “Are you for real?”

  “Okay, I’m hungry so here goes.” I picked up my fork, rolled up the long noodles dripping with sauce and placed it hesitantly into my mouth. Flavor burst on my tongue and to my surprise it was…edible! I glanced at Callie in surprise.

  “Told you so.” She smirked.

  “What happened? Why does it taste good?” That’s the thing about best friends – you could insult them without it going to heart. Callie was also honest with herself and knew she couldn’t cook.

  “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I kept telling you I’d get it right one of these days,” Callie replied, waving her fork around in the air.

  “Yeah, you did and watch what you’re doing with that fork.”

  We ate the rest of the meal in silence then I poured us both a glass of wine, which we carried through to the living room along with the rest of the bottle. We got comfortable on the sofa with our feet resting up on the coffee table, the conversation and wine flowing easily between us. Before we knew it we were on our second bottle of wine.

  “So who’s Ethan Rock?”

  I frowned at her. “It took you long enough to ask.”

  “You still haven’t answered.”

  “Ethan Rock was the school jock, aka school asshole, who tried to get to third base in my tree house. It was cut short by my dad calling me,” I giggled. “I kneed him in the junk. He ended up rolling all over the floor in his shorts while I tried to hold a conversation with my dad without laughing. Ethan never spoke to me again.”

  “Oh my God. How old were you?”

  “Sweet sixteen,” I replied, starting to feel the effects of drinking nearly two bottles of wine with Callie.

  “Nothing sweet about what you nearly did.” We fell into each other laughing.

  After picking ourselves up from the floor, I walked into the kitchen for more wine and the cake I’d brought home with me from work.

  “Here, share this with me.” I passed Callie a slice before sitting back down beside her.

  “Why didn’t I get the job in the cake shop instead of the dry cleaners?”

  “Because you have a sweet tooth. You’re skinny now; if you’d taken the job with the cakes you wouldn’t be able to walk through the door,” I teased my sulking friend.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am. That’s why I work in the cake shop and you don’t,” I laughed.

  We both hated our jobs, which we considered slave labor, although I did have the slightly better one in the cake shop. Unfortunately today had been my last day. The cake shop was on campus, and only opened during the college semesters, whereas the dry clean
ers where Callie worked was open twenty-four-seven, much to Callie’s constant dismay.

  “Before you get too drunk to think, I want to know what’s going on between you and Liam… and don’t tell me nothing.”

  I digested Callie’s question. How could I answer when, in actual fact, I had no idea? Over the past six months we’d been on a few dates and to the movies once or twice, but there was something missing. In honesty, I think if I hadn’t been so busy with my studies I would have said something to him, about the lack of closeness between us. He hadn’t even kissed me, other than a peck on the cheek. Liam was good company and rather entertaining so I’d just gone along with him as his ‘girlfriend’.

  Callie was staring at me with the patience of a saint. Her long legs rested beside mine on the coffee table and she was slouched on the couch. Her eyes half closed in a lazy manner; blonde hair falling in disarray from the ‘up do’ she had going on from the morning.

  “Liam is good looking, but he hasn’t tried to get into my pants; not even once. He’s kissed me, kind of, but no other touching...” I hesitated before blurting out, “I’m going home with him this summer.”

  Callie choked on the swallow of wine she’d just taken, the red liquid staining her white top as her eyes widened in shock. “Are you crazy?”

  “Probably,” I groaned.

  Callie dabbed at her shirt as she stared at me looking flabbergasted.

  “Look, you know I don’t want to go home.” I numbered out the reasons on my fingers. “All the summer jobs around here have already been taken. You’re going away with your family, and I don’t want to touch my savings. I can use some, but the majority I want to save; you know that.”

  I avoided her gaze as I reaffirmed all my reasons for going. “Liam said his parents want him to bring me home. He also said, I’ll have my own room, and I do like him, but as a friend. To be honest I think that’s what he wants, although he keeps referring to me as his girlfriend.” I frowned.

 

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