Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1)

by Michelle Watson

  Victor whimpers and tries to shift away, but Falcon violently holds him in place, covering almost every inch of Vic’s shivering body with immense strength of his own. There is nothing gentle or tender about this. It’s pure masculine domination. Falcon never manhandled me like that. I never witnessed male on male action before and, oddly, this is extremely hot. I’m turned-on; the wetness seeping from my panties is evidence.

  Falcon whispers something into Vic’s ear and his free hand reaches down, gripping and fondling Vic between his legs and making Vic’s eyes roll to the back of his head and his knees buckle.

  My heart beats erratically as my hands lift the lace-trimmed hem of my gown up. The cool silk glides up my heated thighs. My fingers fumble upwards until I touch the damp, achy spot inside my panties.

  Victor grunts lowly, thrusting his ass in the air. “Honey, please.”

  “You want it, then you’re going to have to work for it. Beg me.” Falcon is still caressing him.

  Somewhere between touching myself and watching Falcon touch Vic, my conscience kicks in, and I feel like an awful person for spying on them. I’d be fine if I wasn’t such a pervert.

  Removing my hand, I slowly back away from the door with shaky legs and dash back inside Falcon’s bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind me, my chest rising and falling fast.

  On the black nightstand, I notice my cell. Picking it up, I send Hunter a text:

  Me: I need you. NOW!

  Hunter: Be over in ten.

  Chapter thirteen

  Make Up to Break Up

  I texted Hunter and told him to come in through Falcon’s bedroom window. He tapped on the glass six minutes later. I pushed the curtains wide open and unlock the latches on the window, quietly lifting it up. From what I remember, I know Falcon is seriously pissed. He doesn’t need to find me and Hunter in his bedroom on top of that. The frosty night air blows in as Hunter throws a leg over the ledge and climbs in. The windows to Falcon’s house are low to the ground and as accessible as a door.

  Once he’s fully inside, I shut the window and draw the curtains. When I whirl around, Hunter is an inch away from my face. He wears his usual attire: a black hoodie, dark denim jeans, and navy blue Van sneakers. He raises his arms, placing his hands on either side of my face, looking intently into my eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “No.” I peer into his sapphire eyes and lose my breath.

  His brows frown as his forehead creases in confusion. “What’s the matter then?”

  “I remember everything. I didn’t sleep with Max. He just took me to his place because I didn’t want to go home. The asshole who gave me the pills bit me, not Max. Max didn’t even touch me.”

  His head jerks back and his eyes narrow, a perplexed expression contorting his features. His hands drop to his sides and he takes a step back. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this after what I did to you?”

  I immediately correct the distance between us. “You were angry. It’s understandable. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  He takes another step backwards, raking a hand through disheveled golden locks. “No, it’s not okay. God, Isabel, I’m positive I gave you a concussion. I’m fucked in the head. Can’t you see me for who I am?”

  I step closer until our chests touch. Tentatively reaching up, my fingers smooth the wrinkles between his brows. A face like his shouldn’t be twisted with pain and worry. “I do see you for who you are. You’re a hero. You saved my life. Thank you.”

  His long fingers fully circle my wrist, bringing my hand down from his face. “Just to put it back in jeopardy. We can’t do this. It’s wron—”

  Standing my tiptoes, I crush my mouth on his, causing our teeth to clash. We’re both stunned for a moment. Our lips rest against one another, our breathing heavy and rapid as we inhale each other’s air. He’s still holding my wrist in his hand. I motion for him to let it go. He does and my hand slips into his. I interlock our fingers, kissing corner of his mouth and then the other. He shuts his eyes and groans, trying to step back, but I simply move forward, squeezing his hand tighter.

  “I forgive you, Hunter. What we’re doing isn’t wrong at all. It isn’t wrong because I say it isn’t and that’s the only thing that should matter, right?”

  He just continues to stare all wide-eyed and bewildered, as still as a stone. His hand loosens around mine. Untangling my fingers from his, I drag his sweatshirt and his white T-shirt over his head, yanking it off his limp arms.

  The sharp intake of breath is unretractable with good reason as I gawk at his bare, sculpted, sun-kissed chest. Every muscle in his core is beyond cut and also defined. My mouth goes dry. I don’t think I ever saw him this close without a shirt, at least not as an adult. Apprehensively, my palms explore the front wall of his exposed beauty. His skin is taut and baby-smooth. The scent of outdoorsy rain, spicy cinnamon mint, Hunter’s own masculine fragrance penetrates my nostrils, making my head heady.

  Hunter inhales a shallow breath, pupils dilating.

  My heart rate soars as I stare into darkening cerulean blue eyes. Pausing, I nervously, run my tongue across my chapped bottom lip, biting on the side of it.

  His eyes follow the route of my tongue, and he licks his own, as if the anticipation and hunger is barely contained. He dips his head towards me. Hunter attentively presses wet kisses on my right shoulder and along the side of my neck, tracing the length of my jaw with his delicious tongue.

  A mixture between a grunt and moan slides out my throat, surprising my own ears. I don’t sound like myself, I sound so whiny and desperately in need of something. His hands cradle my face and he gives me the sweetest kiss on the lips. It’s full of warmth and passion that my legs give way from under me, and I collapse into him.

  My lungs burn for more oxygen, I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my lungs begin to ache for fresh air. It’s like my world is spinning.

  Hunter’s arms curl around my waist and he holds me firmly against him. He tucks my head under his chin. His enormous erection prods my stomach through the fabric of his jeans.

  I suck down as much air my lungs can hold. Our irregular heartbeats pound fiercely against one another as our breaths even.

  He gives me a tight squeeze, pressing me into his hard-on. “I shouldn’t be here.” Hunter’s hoarse voice is controlled and restrained.

  My fingers draw invisible patterns on his sides; he shudders and squeezes me tighter. “Stay,” I whisper.

  “I don’t think I should, Isabel.”

  “Please? I promise to behave. I just need you to stay for a little while. Please?” I’ve been reduced to begging, but I don’t care. When it comes to Hunter, I’ll beg and plead until I couldn’t rasp another word.

  “Isabel—”

  “Please, Hunter?” My fingers dig into his flesh. “Pretty please?”

  His mouth quirks up on the sides, just a tiny smile that sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Okay, but only until you fall back off to sleep.” He releases me and takes a step back. He stares at me for a long moment, eyes running down the length of my body and back again. I sway on the balls of my feet from his intense once-over. My face heats, cheeks flood with blush.

  He takes my hand and we move to the bed. “Nice nightie. It’s kinda old school, but I like it.”

  “Ha ha,” I say sarcastically. “I probably look like Mrs. Franklin. All I need is the pink sponge hair rollers, the hot pink robe decorated with white kittens, and bright fuzzy slippers that don’t match at all.”

  His body shakes with silent laughter as he pulls the covers back and we climb in. “You’re wrong,” he replies as he lies next to me.

  I snuggle closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. “About?”

  “About looking like Mrs. Franklin.”

  Tipping my head back, I glance at him, confused.

  “You see, Mrs. Franklin is hawt. She’s the shit, and she’s at least three hundred percent better lookin’ than yo
u.”

  My brows draw together and I pout, pretending to be wounded by his hilarious comment. “Ouch. I didn’t know you’re such a cub?”

  “Cub?”

  “Yeah, a cub. You’re into the cougars, but in Mrs. Franklin’s case, she’s an ancient dinosaur.”

  I’m graced with a cheery smile with many glossy white teeth. “Hater much?”

  “Pee-yew.” I dramatically close my eyes and scrunch up my nose as if I’m smell something offensive. “Do I smell Similac on your breath?”

  He tosses his head back and release a deep throaty laugh.

  My hand quickly flies to his mouth to cover it. “Shut that beautiful mouth of yours before you get me in trouble.”

  He playfully wiggles his brows, nipping at my palm.

  I gasp, pulling my hand away. “You’re going to stop biting me one day.”

  “Today is not that day, my sweet.”

  I poke my tongue out and roll my eyes like petulant four-year-old child.

  It feels good to joke with Hunter this way. When we were younger we used to tease each other all the time. And Hunter was the best to be carefree and goofy with. He had the best comebacks. We haven’t been together like this in so long.

  His smile broadens and chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re still a hater, though. Mrs. Franklin is the shit, and I bet her pussy is way sweeter than yours.”

  Reaching up, I squeeze his right nipple with all the strength I can muster. “Mrs. Franklin smells like shit. I’m sure her bowels are shot to shit, pun intended.”

  His body starts to shake with uncontrollable laughter.

  “Shut up before I gag you with something.” But I’m laughing, too. My fingers still latch on to his nipple without mercy.

  Something dark and sinister lurks behind those gorgeous eyes that stare back at me. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, maybe my hand again.”

  “Oh, I’m thinking your panties will work much better.”

  The air leaves my lungs in a shaky whimper that I release across his face.

  He narrows his eyes, sinking his teeth into his supple bottom lip.

  “I-I think,” I stutter and swallow hard, “I think I love you, Hunter Knight.”

  His eyes widen and his browns lift in shock. An intense emotion contorts his face. He looks upset about what I just said. It’s uncanny how ill I physically feel now. I feel like I’ve been hit by a semi-truck, sat on fire, and stomped on by million people all at once.

  Feeling like a wounded animal, I scoot away, over to my side of the bed. I need some kind of distance. His scent alone is suffocating me.

  Hunter sighs, reaches out and wraps a big, demanding hand around my arm, pulling back into his embrace, tucking my head under his chin.

  I throw my arms around his sides, pressing my cheek flat against his left pec and breathing in his unique masculine scent. His strong heart thuds audibly against my heated cheek. And for a moment, we just hold each other in comfortable silence.

  Hunter buries his nose and mouth in my hair, inhaling deeply. “Maybe in some other universe, some other time, some other world, you could be mine and I could be yours. We’d become best friends again. Then we’d date; I’d learn how to love you in all the right ways you deserve. We’d travel the world. I’d ask you to marry me in some ridiculously romantic way and we’d have babies, as many as you want. They’d look like you, of course. We’d raise them to be good and wholesome people. We’d watch them grow up and get married and have babies of their own and spoil our grandkids to the limit as they got older. Then, and only then, when you’re old and gray by my side, I could die a fulfilled and sated man. That would be the story of our life, but it’ll never happen. It’ll never happen because we can never happen.”

  Chapter thirteen

  My Name, Your Scar

  I didn’t know I was quietly sobbing into Hunter’s armpit until I feel the rush of tears roll down my face and wet his skin.

  He kisses my hair, holding me tighter.

  “It’s kind of cruel of you to dangle a life I longed to have in front of my face and snatch it ruthlessly away.”

  “I’m just trying to make you understand that we can’t happen. Ever. When you get that through that pretty head of yours and see me for who I truly am, we can be age-old friends. But look at the silver lining in this thick storm cloud. When you meet a very special guy, you get to have that life with him. He’d be your world and you’d be his, and the absolute best part would be that you’d forget about me, forget about the pain I caused when you look into his eyes every day. He’d be your Hero Husband.”

  “But I don’t want a Hero Husband,” I sniff, wiping my runny nose with the back of my hand.

  “You don’t know what you want,” he scoffs.

  “And you do?”

  “I think I do.” He tone is matter-of-fact and it’s pissing me off.

  I lift my head up and tilt it to the side, looking into turbulent eyes that seem to want to eat me alive. “Says who?”

  He smiles. “Says me.”

  Rolling my eyes, I lean back into his warmth. My stomach growls loudly, startling me.

  “Hungry?”

  “Thanks to you I haven’t eaten all day.”

  He cringes as if I threw scolding water on him. “I am sorry, Isabel. When you said you didn’t know how you got that bite mark that translated into you had no clue who touched you, or where they touched you, and what happened. I saw red and lost control. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. It happens often. It’s a piss-poor excuse, but that’s the truth. I wish I could just stop and be normal, but life isn’t normal. The shit I’ve been through…The shit I put you through…” He trails off, squeezing me tight against his bare chest. Every wisp of air is smacked out of my lungs from the impact. His lips repeatedly skim my forehead in a gentle assault.

  My fingers dig into his flesh as my heart pounds against my ribs. “I hate you so much,” I whisper, meaning the exact opposite and he knows it.

  He gives me a squeeze, crushing me with his heavy arms. “I hate you, too, baby.”

  My pulse quickens.

  I love you, too, baby.

  That thought alone makes my stomach flutter…and growl, too.

  “You need food,” Hunter murmurs, his sweet breath fans across my face. “I can pick you up something.”

  My arms spasms around his middle. “No.” My voice is frantic and needy. “I mean, I don’t want you to leave.”

  “You need to eat,” he says firmly.

  “You said you would stay until I fell back off to sleep. You also said you wouldn’t let Falcon take me. You already broke one promise so far, are you going to break this one, as well?”

  “You’re not gonna let me win this, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  I feel his smile in my hair. “Well, luckily I have peanut butter crackers in my sweatshirt pocket.” I release him and he throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, stretching both arms up above his head. The muscles in his in his core expand upward too. My eyes absently travel across his body until I come into a faint scar. The scar is long and huge and it’s across his left ribcage. I narrow to see it clearly as he moves and bends, scooping up the hoodie from the floor. The scar isn’t just a singular scar; the elegant, fine lines are just one big collective word. It’s my name. My name is written across his ribs.

  My eyes widen in pure shock.

  Did he do that to himself?

  Is that self-inflicted, like my scars?

  He digs the crackers out, tossing his sweatshirt on the chair, on top of my duffle bag. Hunter’s head jerks backward and his brows furrow as his wary eyes meet mine. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He hops back into bed, handing me the orange plastic packet of crackers.

  My hands tremble as I receive them.

  “Isabel,” he cautions lowly, “what’s wrong?”

  I shut my eyes for a brief moment, trying to regulate my rapid breathing and hamme
ring heart. “My name…it’s on your ribs.”

  His spine immediately stiffens, eyes growing wide in awareness.

  “Did you…do that?”

  He says nothing.

  My fingers tighten around the crackers, I feel them snapping and crushing into crumbs under the pressure of my hands. “Did you hurt yourself because of me?”

  His jaw clenches. “Eat, Isabel.”

  “Hunter—”

  “Eat. Your. Crackers.”

  “But—”

  “Isabel,” he warns in a deathly quiet tone, eyes darkening into murky blue. “Please eat the damn crackers.”

  I glance down at the smashed cracker in my hands. They’re broken into many pieces like me and they don’t look as appetizing as they did before, but I lift them up to my mouth and peel a corner of the plastic off with my teeth, ripping the packet wide open.

  Hunter appears pleased as I nibble on larger fragments of crackers. “Let this go for now. I’ll tell you why when it’s right to do so, just drop it. Okay?”

  I nod, staring at the plasma TV straight ahead, avoiding his eyes. “We should watch a movie or something.”

  He follows my gaze the massive flat screen. “Yeah, that sounds good. But I need to ask you something first.”

  “Ask away,” I reply, still avoiding his eyes.

  “Why’d you call me over here?”

  “I was…” I trail off and swallow hard. I turn my face towards the wall, feeling dread infuses with my blood. “I was horny.”

  “And you called me for a one night stand…a booty call?”

  “No!” I squeak, turning to face him.

  Hunter’s cheek lift and he laughs, clasping his hand over my mouth. “Shh. I’m just fucking with you. I’m amazing in bed; I’m talking ’bout howling-to-the-moon-toes-curling-body-convulsing good. Or so I’m told.” He winks at me, a sexy self-assured wink. “You’d want more than one night, little liar.”

  My brows rise as I shove salty peanut butter crumbs into my mouth. “That good, huh?”