Another scraping sound of her platform boots on the concrete. “Haven’t we had the conversation about me not being a kid, Hunter?”
“You’re a guest in my home, Ellie. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Fine. Whatever. I was with Kara, and then I went to a movie and I forgot to check my phone. No big deal.”
Not to her. But to him it had been. He’d always been helpless against the instinctive worry for her, the need to know where she was. Partly because of the trust Vin had placed in him and partly because she was precious. Vulnerable and unprotected. And those who were vulnerable needed protection.
“Flick me a text next time, okay?”
“Sure. And I’ll be sure to do that when I’m in Tokyo too.”
Her sarcasm cut like a knife, but he ignored it. Clearly she was in a confrontational mood again. Jesus, he wished she’d get over whatever it was that was bothering her so much.
The sound of her footsteps came from behind him, the scent of her soft and close, and all his good intentions, the ones where he kept thinking of her in terms of the child she’d once been, went straight out the window.
She felt hot. Wet. And she was trembling. All over. Her pulse racing against the press of his thumb…
No. This shouldn’t be happening. He’d spent all day killing himself on site. Exhausting himself. Working out this need, the thoughts in his head. And he thought he was good. He thought he was fine. Until she came near him and then it all came crashing down. Christ, why couldn’t she stay in the box he’d put her in? Why did she insist on turning herself into someone else?
Her footsteps came around the other side of the bike. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” He made some more adjustments to the seat, concentrating on that small task and not on her.
She stayed quiet a moment, and he could feel her watching him. “You’re always making stuff. Building things. Why do you like it so much?”
So he didn’t have to think about anything else. So he had something to concentrate on. Because it put more distance between him and his family. Because it helped him feel like he was moving forward, never back.
“Because I like creating things.” A rote response.
Ellie didn’t seem to pick up on it. She came a little closer, ran a tentative finger over the metal of the handlebars. “I create things too. I create worlds.” A small sigh. “But I suppose they’re more of an escape than anything else. Escapist fantasies.”
Hunter still didn’t look at her, but he was conscious of her all the same. Extremely conscious. He wanted to tell her go away because her presence was distracting. The whole fucking conversation was distracting. Yet he didn’t.
“I mean, take the Dark Shadow game for example,” she went on when he didn’t say anything. “That’s one huge ass-kicking fantasy of mine.” Another pause. “Did you know Dark Shadow was inspired by you?”
A small bolt of surprise went through him. He’d never played it since gaming wasn’t his thing, but he’d watched Vin play it. Had felt proud of Ellie that she’d created something so successful. But he’d never really paid much attention to the game. His pride in her had been an abstract thing, not in any way personal.
Slowly, he looked at her. “Me?”
Her attention had moved to the gas tank, her finger tracing the golden Norton lettering along the side of it. The long fall of her copper-red hair hung over one shoulder in a loose ponytail. She had on her black stove-pipe jeans, a ripped black tank top with another one, a blue one, underneath it. A heavy black leather belt hung around her narrow hips. There were chains on it.
“Yeah, you.” Her lashes flickered, red at the roots where the mascara didn’t reach. “I know Dark Shadow is a chick, but she’s kind of who I imagined myself being if I had your strength. If I was you. A female you, if that makes any sense.”
A strange feeling twisted in his chest. A feeling he couldn’t identify and one that made him intensely uncomfortable. Like the whole of this damn conversation. “I didn’t know that,” he said, not sure what else to say.
“I know you didn’t. That’s why I told you.” Her eyes met his. “In fact, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.” She offered the words like a challenge. A dare.
Did he know her? He thought he did. An odd sense of dislocation slipped through him, as if the room had subtly changed around him and he wasn’t where he thought he was. It was unsettling. “Where are you going with this, Ellie?” he asked, not bothering to keep the impatience out of his tone.
“Nowhere.” She hooked her thumbs into her belt, the chains jangling. “Just saying there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
You didn’t know she’d beg. You didn’t know she’d tremble. You didn’t know how hot she’d feel. How wet. How hard you’d be for her.
Almost unconsciously he slid one hand into the pocket of his jeans, reaching for the drawing pin. Jabbing the end of it into his finger. He didn’t flinch. Perhaps it wasn’t a drawing pin he needed. Perhaps he needed more ink. To add more feathers to the wings on his back.
“Of course,” he said flatly. “We’re different people.”
She stared at him, unblinking. “Don’t you want to know more? About me, I mean?”
No, he kind of didn’t want to know more. She was Vin’s kid sister and that’s what he wanted her to remain. Knowing more would change things. Make him see her differently.
Hasn’t that already happened?
Hunter looked away from her, back down to the bike standing between them. “I don’t need to, Ellie. I know pretty much everything about you already.”
“Bullshit you do. Did you know I used to nick your cigarettes back when you smoked? That I once won an online gaming tournament at Kara’s café? That I learned karate so I knew the moves for my games? That I went to get my lip pierced when I was seventeen then chickened out?”
No, he didn’t know any of those things. And he didn’t want to either. “We all have stuff that other people don’t know. But that doesn’t mean we have to tell all and sundry about it.”
He’d known that would hurt her. And it did, he could sense it. But fuck, how else could he end this stupid conversation?
She remained silent for a long moment. Then she said softly, “Did you know that I used to wait up whenever you and Vin went out? And then sneak out of my room to watch you when you came back, eavesdrop on your conversations? It was one of those nights I first saw your tattoo. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.”
Where the hell was she going with this? Beautiful. Christ. That’s what people, mainly women, always told him about the wings he’d had inked on his back. But he hadn’t gotten them because he’d wanted beauty. He’d got them so he could be clean. Pure. So the pain would wash away the dirtiness—
Ah, but all that shit was over, wasn’t it? Over years ago.
Yeah, so over you’re using a drawing pin in your hand instead. Fuckwit.
Hunter turned abruptly and went over to his workbench. There were bike parts scattered all over it. Hell, he really needed to clean this place up.
“And did you know,” Ellie went on in the same tone, “that I spent years thinking about what it would feel like to have you touch me? God, I constructed so many fantasies about what would happen. How it would happen. When it would happen. And what you would do and say afterwards.” A brief pause. “The one thing I didn’t imagine was that you’d leave me in pieces and walk away.”
The silence in the workshop was absolute. Because he could think of nothing—nothing whatsoever—to say.
Eventually, he turned round. She was standing with her thumbs still hooked in her belt, her chin slightly tilted, eyes meeting his, such determined honesty in them he couldn’t look away.
In pieces, she’d said. He’d left her in pieces.
“What else did you want from me?” he asked, rougher than he should have.
Her posture stiffened, her jaw tightening. And in her eyes, a f
lash of pain and anger. “Respect, Hunter. I could have done with a little more respect.”
It felt like she’d slid something sharp beneath his skin. A barb that stuck there, digging in.
This wasn’t a child kicking him in the shins or throwing a tantrum. Not this time. This was a woman. Whom he’d hurt.
Something shifted inside his chest, disorienting him. A feeling that the ground beneath his feet had moved, a crack running through the earth, and he had no idea where to stand.
“Ellie,” he began, not knowing what he wanted to say, only that he had to say something.
But she was already turning away, walking toward the door. “Spare me, Chase.”
“Ellie,” he repeated, yet she didn’t stop, she only walked out of the workshop.
And he knew that somehow, whether he wanted it or not, during the course of the conversation Ellie Fox had taken herself out of the box he’d been keeping her in.
And that this time he didn’t think he could put her back into it.
Ellie went up the stairs, across the veranda and into the house, swearing under her breath. Well, so much for that conversation. Once again she’d been the one to turn herself inside out in an effort to get something from him. And once again, like a mirror, he’d just reflected it back.
What else did you want from me?
Jesus Christ but she hated the way he made it seem like it was her fault. That he’d done nothing but give her what she wanted and that the problem had been with her expectations. It didn’t help either that deep down she knew he was right. She did expect more because of who they were to each other.
And what’s that?
Ellie stormed down the wide, white hallway and went into the study Hunter kept scrupulously neat. Then she threw herself down onto the chrome office chair in front of his very minimalist style desk and stared at the computer screen.
Bugger it. He was the fantasy man she’d constructed and she was still the child he’d looked after. That’s what they were to each other. And she’d reached for the fantasy and got…someone else. Now she was trying to find out who that person was and what had he done? Dismissed her yet again. So what was the freaking point? She didn’t know. She didn’t even know why she was still here.
Her throat went tight as she looked blankly at the screen and the email to her new boss that she’d been working on before she’d left to see Kara that morning.
Perhaps she was crazy to keep thinking she could get what she wanted from him. Perhaps she should pack up her stuff and leave. Not that there was anywhere else for her to go, of course.
She shifted in the chair and tried to get back to her email, desperate for any kind of distraction. But ten minutes later, she still hadn’t typed another word.
Then a movement at the door made her look up. Hunter stood there, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of the faded black jeans he wore.
“What?” she demanded. “Thought of something else patronising to say?”
He didn’t respond to that, merely looked at her, his gaze unreadable. “What do you want, Ellie?”
“I told you what I wanted and you told me no. So actually, I should be the one asking you what you want considering what happened yesterday. Oh and by the way, if you say ‘nothing happened’, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Again he gave her silence. Waiting motionless, watching her. And it struck her then that she’d never really noticed how quiet and still he so often was. As if observing everything, measuring everything. He seemed so calm on the surface, like a pool of black water. Yet underneath there were currents. Powerful currents.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said at last. “I shouldn’t have touched you.”
That did not make her feel any better. “Are you? That’s a shame. Because I’m not.” She swallowed, looked away. “So why did you then? Did you feel sorry for me or something? Because yeah, desperation is so attractive.”
He didn’t answer her directly. “Do you want me to touch you again? Is that what you want?”
Her throat tightened. “You know what I want, Hunter. I told you. Jesus Christ, I begged for it, didn’t I? But what’s the point? When you don’t want me.”
He shifted against the doorframe. “I didn’t say that.”
It took Ellie a second to understand what he’d said. “What do you mean?”
Slowly, he pushed himself away from the doorframe and came into the room. Something had changed in his face, his expression becoming intent, and Ellie’s heart suddenly climbed into her throat.
Because he came straight over to her, prowling like a lion, stopping right in front of her. And then he bent, putting one hand on each arm of the chair she sat in, caging her into it.
His eyes were so dark, fathomless. “What do you think I mean?” he said softly.
Chapter Six
He should not be doing this, leaning over her like a predator. Should not be anywhere near her. And yet here he was, his hands on the arms of his office chair, looking down into her eyes, watching them widen, her pupils dilating. Hearing her breath catch.
He’d tried to get back to work on the Norton, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate. First time ever that hadn’t worked. And when he’d taken his hand out of his pocket, seen the blood all over his fingers, he’d known pain wasn’t going to work either. Nor was continuing to deny what his body insistently told him it wanted.
Ellie Fox had got under his skin. Had changed things between them. And by touching her, he’d been complicit in that change. He’d crossed the line and no matter how much he wished he hadn’t, he couldn’t cross back again. The only direction to go was forward.
Which meant admitting the one thing he was afraid of—that she wasn’t the child he’d once escaped to and hadn’t been for years.
It wasn’t what he wanted. But that choice had been taken from him the moment she’d undone her jumpsuit in his truck. And when your choice had been taken from you, there was nothing to do but embrace what fate had given you in its place. Make it your own.
The sound of his pulse beat loud in his head. Insistent. He felt breathless, aching. Adrenaline moved like lightning in his blood.
Desire. Yes. This was what he felt. For her. For Ellie. He wouldn’t fight it, wouldn’t deny it. He would accept it, embrace it.
Make it his.
He could hear Ellie’s breath catch, a flush creeping up her pale neck, over smooth white cheekbones. Could see the pulse beating at the base of her throat and he had the most bizarre urge to put his mouth over it. Taste her. Bizarre because the throat wasn’t a place on a woman he’d ever wanted to taste. There were other places he sometimes indulged himself with. When he wanted them to be helpless, mindless with pleasure. Oh yes, he’d become very good at rendering a woman blind with pleasure. So she didn’t see what he didn’t want to give.
Ellie would be no different. He couldn’t afford for her to be different.
“Hunter—”
“Close your eyes.”
“But—”
“If you want this, close your eyes.”
She blinked. Then obeyed, black-painted lashes lying still on her cheeks. Her breathing had become fast, shallow and through the tightly fitting cotton of her tank tops, he could see the hard points of her nipples.
“You know the rules?”
Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I…what you said yesterday?”
“Yes. What are they?”
“I can’t move. I…can’t speak. I can’t t-touch you.”
“And you can’t open your eyes.”
“But why? I don’t—”
“No questions.”
Frustration crossed her face. “I don’t want it to end like yesterday. I don’t want you walking out on me. I want to know what’s going to happen after this.”
He found he was gripping the arms of the chair tightly. The warmth of her, the musky scent of her arousal had wrapped around him, ensnaring him. He was hard already and he hadn’
t even touched her.
“I won’t walk out on you. But what I told you yesterday still holds true. This is all I have to give you.”
“But, Hunter—”
“Take it or leave it, sweetness.”
Her teeth sunk into the lush fullness of her bottom lip, sending a pulse of desire through him. He gripped the chair harder.
“Okay,” she said at last. “But I don’t want you to go back to treating me like a kid again. I want to be able to talk to you. I want—”
Hunter leaned forward and gently bit her lip, cutting off the flow of words before she could demand anything more from him. He hadn’t even realised he’d wanted to do it until now, until the softness of it was between his teeth, the taste of her in his mouth.
She gasped in shock then gave a helpless little whimper. Her head fell back, her mouth opening, clearly expecting a kiss. Except he didn’t kiss people. At least not on the lips.
He licked her lip instead, soothing the sting of his bite. Then he lifted his head.
Her eyelashes quivered.
“Don’t,” he warned softly.
A shaken breath escaped her but her eyes stayed shut.
Hunter pushed himself up, allowing himself to look at her. See her for who she was. Jesus, she wasn’t the skinny little redheaded girl he remembered. Oh she was skinny still, narrow hipped and small-breasted but that in no way detracted from her allure. Her neck was long and her skin like alabaster. And her legs… Holy Christ. He remembered them from yesterday, smooth and white, slender and so, so long.
“Put your hands on the arms of the chair,” he instructed, his voice becoming rougher, hoarser.
Ellie did so and he could see them tremble. His chest tightened, a familiar sick feeling gathering in his gut. This was wrong, of course, what he was doing to her, what he was going to do to her. He’d embraced his own fucked-up kink, had chosen it, but that didn’t mean he had to expose her to it.
Ah, Christ, there was a reason he only did this with strangers.
He bent over her again, pressed his thumb to the pulse at the base of her throat. It was wild, out of control. “You’re not afraid?” This was important to him. Fear had never been a part of the equation. Yeah, he was twisted but not to that extent. “You can speak now.”
Taking Him (Lies We Tell) Page 7