Claiming The One (Meadowview Heat 3; The Meadowview Series 3)

by Rochelle French

  Warmth that spread like glowing embers through her limbs, melting her frozen core. Giving her back a little strength.

  She pushed herself away from the door, turned, and then padded barefoot down the hall, allowing herself to breathe only when she came to the stairwell. She grabbed the handrail and galloped up the stairwell, confident the 1970s green shag carpet linking the stairs would cover the sound of her clambering footsteps. She didn’t want Hunter thinking she was running away from him. With shaking hands, she opened the door to what had once been her room, glad to be away from Hunter.

  She swung her gaze around, blowing out a sigh at the familiarity. Everything looked exactly as it had when she’d lived here as a teen—her jewelry box at a precise right angle on her dresser, her bed neatly made with the pink and white quilt, her collection of classics ordered first by genre and then by author, on the press-board bookshelf.

  Even though she’d come to visit her mother off and on over the years, and had even stayed in this very room, she’d never changed a thing.

  The heavy beating of her heartbeat sounded loudly in her ears. It was amazing how much adrenaline could pour into her system at Hunter Thorne’s mere presence.

  It took a good ninety seconds of lying curled in a fetal position on the queen-sized bed for the beat thrumming through her veins to slow until she no longer heard the roar and rush of her long-ago broken heart pounding in her head.

  Hunter was back. And with him, all the memories she’d worked so hard to shut out for so many years. Hell. She buried her head in the pillow, denying the tears that wanted to burst out like water from a broken dam.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairwell.

  She sat up, clutching her pillow to her chest. She’d locked the damned door, of that she was certain. But someone—and she’d give her last dollar that someone was Hunter—had snuck into the house.

  “God, can’t a girl have a little peace around here?” she muttered. She flung herself back down on the bed and waited for the inevitable: for Hunter to find her. It wouldn’t take long. After all the nights he’d spent sneaking into her room when they were young, he’d know exactly where she was.

  A shadow cast over her and she glanced over to see Hunter’s frame fill the doorway.

  “I don’t get it,” she said, her voice tight in the back of her throat, not bothering to look him in the eyes. “You have no desire to talk for me for thirteen years and now here you are, breaking into my house and stalking me.”

  He stepped into her room, but stayed near the doorway. “I didn’t break in. Your back door was wide open. And I don’t like having doors slammed in my face.”

  She cast her gaze over him. He’d grown into quite the man, she realized. Wide shoulders, light brown hair still a little long and messy. Narrow hips. She looked up, and his eyes, green like hers, glittered they were embedded with ice crystals. He gave her a forced smile, his teeth strong and white against the red backdrop of his full lips, and she slammed her eyes shut at the sight.

  Why couldn’t he have grown up all fat and ugly?

  He came over to the bed and sat next to her, so close…so very close. Oh, God. Obviously the man wasn’t planning on leaving, but she wasn’t about to hear him out. She tossed the pillow to the side and lurched off the bed to come to standing. She stared down at him, giving him her best glare. “I didn’t slam the door.”

  He reached up and grabbed her arm. “You know what I meant.” His voice sounded strong and his eyes radiated determination.

  Her nostrils flared. The sensation of his wide hand covering her thin forearm stirred long dormant memories—unwanted reminders of a lifetime ago. “Let go of me,” she said in a tight voice. She tugged at her arm, but Hunter refused to release his grip.

  “Or what?”

  She leaned forward and nudged her knee between his legs. “Or you may regret it.”

  He caught her other arm in his hand. “What, planning on kneeing me in the balls?”

  “If that’s what it takes to get your hands off me, then yes,” she snapped, bringing her knee closer to his crotch. And her body closer to his. Too close, she realized as his scent permeated her nostrils.

  Jittery sensations shot through her—anger mixed with arousal. The anger didn’t surprise her, but the arousal did. Remnants of puppy love, that’s all, her mind whispered.

  With a sudden movement, Hunter leaned back, tugging her down on top of him. He wrapped a muscled leg around the back of her thighs, pinning her to him. The maneuver took her by surprise.

  And sent the jittery sensations on an all-time high.

  Blood rushed through her veins, fueled by a rage and lust. “What the hell are you doing?” she breathed, struggling against him.

  “Don’t ever threaten my family jewels.”

  “I just want you gone.”

  Hunter ran his gaze over her face. “You know, Liz, you’re still amazingly beautiful.”

  His incongruent words came as a shock. She shook her head, feeling a furrow form on her brow. “You drive over here, break into my house, and then jump me in order to tell me I’m still beautiful?”

  He pulled her hands above her head until her body lay fully atop his, and then gripped both wrists tight in one hand. He snaked his other hand up behind her neck and held the back of her head. “No, I came here to talk. To tell you something important. But I can’t seem to get you to listen.”

  She struggled against him. Good God, he smelled delicious. “You’re right, I won’t listen. Now let go of me and get the hell out of my house.”

  With a movement as quick and smooth as flowing water, Hunter raised his head and captured her lips in a warm and firm kiss. She struggled, but his tight grip on her wrists held her hands above her head. He pressed down hard on the back of her head, trapping her lips against his.

  Sensation flooded her. She should fight, should push him off, but her limbs had gone to jelly, all quivery and without strength. And her mind…she struggled to maintain conscious thought, battling the heady flash of memory pulled out of her subconscious by Hunter’s scent, his taste, his lips on hers. Her body fought her mind, submitting to the kiss. Betraying her.

  He released her head and dragged his mouth from hers. “Looks like I’ve got your attention. Maybe now you’ll listen,” he said.

  “Fuck you,” she spat out, her voice shaking, her mind desperately clinging to the role of bitch.

  “I’d rather not.” He released her wrists and crossed his arms under his head, not bothering to kick her body off his. He stared at her with a deadpan expression.

  Fury rose within her. With the memory of Hunter’s touch had also come the memory of Hunter’s betrayal, of what he’d said. Of the person his careless words had made her into. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. You won’t touch a slut, right?”

  He didn’t respond, but as she shifted to crawl off him, she recognized the thick and hard length of an erection against her belly. So he’d been turned on. Her eyes narrowed. She could use his arousal to her advantage.

  Once a slut, always a slut. That’s what Meadowview thought, anyway.

  She’d used her reputation before, so why not now?

  Bracing her hands on either side of Hunter’s shoulders, she ground her pelvic bone to his, hitching her hips upward until his thick length lay cradled between her thighs. A smile flicked across her lips when she saw his chest rise. A pulse beat fast along the length of his neck. So he wasn’t as inured to her as he’d like her to think.

  “You won’t ever sleep with me again, remember? I’m used goods.” She rocked back and forth, her gaze trained on Hunter, tracking his sexual arousal.

  A muscle in Hunter’s jaw jumped and power surged through her, like the pounding waters of a flash flood. Whether he wanted her or not, she was turning him on.

  Years ago, she’d believed his whispered words of love. She couldn’t get enough of him that year. She’d immersed herself in his scent, his taste. She’d been so completely, so profoundly in love
that when she so much as thought of him her heart felt like it would burst into a million iridescent pieces of beauty.

  But then he’d dumped her, and hadn’t even bothered to tell her to her face, instead letting her mother carry the news to her. And then he’d said those words of hate that had shut off her heart forever. He’d held all the power back then. But now—

  She was in control now.

  An exultant sensation swept over her: power. Finally, she had power over Hunter. She’d taunt him, tease him, and then leave him starving for more, the same way he’d left her starving for his love all those years before.

  * * *

  Hunter held still, an undulating Liz on top of him, and wondered what the hell she was up to. And wondered what the hell he was going to do about the fact that he wanted her, and bad.

  He couldn’t figure out why the hell he’d kissed her to begin with. She’d pissed him off by not being willing to listen and threatening to knee him in the nuts. But then she’d moved close and he could smell her, could feel her long hair drift against his cheek. She’d dyed her hair and tamed it—the deep auburn a muted contrast to the wild red it once had been.

  Surrounded by all the memories—her former bedroom where they once had spent hours in each other’s arms, the same freesia and lily scent she’d worn all those years ago filling his senses, everything livened by her bright eyes and her passionate reactions—in a split second he’d forgotten his anger and his shame.

  Suddenly he’d been back in time, in the same room and on the same bed, staring at the girl he loved.

  Loved—as in past tense, he reminded himself.

  She sent him a slow and seductive smile. His pulse skittered and his gaze focused in on her face. She’d created some plan, knowing her. And he did know her—at least, he’d known her as well as anyone could after sharing the first fifteen years of their lives together.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, pacing the words out slowly.

  Instead of answering, she licked her lips. Still holding his gaze with hers, she lowered her gaze and looked him straight on. “Don’t you want me?” she breathed.

  His blood thrummed, pounded, expanded, as if his veins were suddenly too small. He sucked in a breath, attentive to the increased beat of his pulse. But he hadn’t come here to get laid.

  “We need to talk, not have sex,” he said. He sat up, pushing her off him and up to standing, but instead of backing up as he’d expected she would, she came closer. And closer. Until her body caressed his.

  Damn. Her scent invaded him, her heat surrounded him. Liz was all woman now. Jealousy twisted in his chest when he realized that although he’d been her first, by no means had he been her last.

  “Kiss me, Hunter,” she said.

  And he did. Because he couldn’t help himself. Because he was a man and she was a woman. Because she held his past in her heart. Because he’d loved her once and wanted her…always.

  Her lips were soft, her breath sweet, and mindlessness took over as she slid her tongue into his mouth, tangling it up with his, letting him taste her, lick her. Her arms wrapped around him and he slid one arm over her shoulders to hold her tight and the other around her back, his hand on her rear, pressing her pelvis to his. He grew hard as he imbued himself in her taste, her scent, her—

  Then she stopped the kiss. Backed up. Pulled her body away from his. His eyes flew open as surprise settled in. Why had she stopped the kiss? Why was she walking away?

  A glare, full of derision, marred her perfect features.

  “So tell me, Hunter,” she drawled, “how does it feel to have someone walk out on you right when you need them? Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” He swiped a hand over his face.

  “You had all the power years ago. You swept me off my feet, knocked me up, then dumped me. This moment here”—she waved a hand—“may be minor compared to what you did to me, but as far as payback goes, at least I’m getting a little satisfaction.”

  Realization slapped him upside the head. Liz’s seduction had nothing to do with forgiveness. Or even a friendly bang for old times’ sake. No, this had been about Liz asserting control over him.

  Christ Almighty. She’d had come on to him to prove she had power. The power he’d stolen from her years ago with his one callous remark.

  In an odd way, he couldn’t help but to admire what she’d just done.

  Even if his balls were aching.

  * * *

  Liz fought the tears that threatened as she looked down at Hunter’s inscrutable expression. She had to get the hell out of her old bedroom. Get the hell away from Hunter. Her goal had been to leave Hunter wanting as he’d left her wanting all those years before. But the tears welling heavily in her eyes told her that her encounter with Hunter threatened to break down the many layers of defenses she’d built to protect her heart.

  She tipped her chin upward, turned, and strode toward the closed door. “I’m off to run a few errands. Be a good boy and let yourself out. And don’t bother coming back. Ever.”

  Less than a second later, she found herself slammed against the door, Hunter’s body covering hers. His scent filled her nostrils and her heart surged with longing, the hot tears in her eyes threatening to spill.

  “Let me go.” Her voice rose. This had been a mistake—everything had been a mistake. She placed her hands on his chest, intending to shove him back, faintly aware of how the heat from his body radiated through her palms, sending unwanted sensations up into her arms and deep into her core.

  Hunter didn’t reply. Instead, he gently gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him, but kept her trapped between him and the door.

  Arousal fought with anger, sending her pulse racing and making her pant. She raised her gaze to find Hunter staring directly at her. His eyes flashed dark green, and two vertical lines formed between his brow. He opened his mouth as if to speak but she shoved against him, unwilling to hear whatever nasty comment he’d surely toss out.

  But he didn’t speak.

  Instead, he kissed her.

  Like how she’d kissed him. Hot, hard, and open-mouthed.

  She resisted the heat of the kiss, tried pulling her wrists out of his clenched hands, twisted her torso to escape the pressure of his hips. Despite her writhing, Hunter held his mouth to hers, his tongue flicking in and out from between her lips, caressing her as if hungering for a response. She groaned, her body and her mind ripping each other apart.

  Then his lips released for a fraction of a second, and he whispered one word, his lips still touching hers, in a voice barely audible. “Lizzie…”

  With that one word, the pent-up anger and rage that had lived within her shattered into a million particles, no longer taking shape or form. Her torso shook and her heart seemed to grow bigger than her ribcage. With a shuddering cry, she opened her mouth.

  Her tongue sought his. She dredged herself in the heady and familiar taste that was Hunter. Liquid fire poured through her, melting her limbs, making her shake as she struggled to remain standing. As she struggled for breath.

  “God, Lizzie—”

  She cut off Hunter’s words with her mouth, flicking her tongue between his lips. He let go of her wrists and ran his hands down the undersides of her arms, her sides. When she moaned, he cupped her buttocks in his palms and lifted her upward, pressing her back to the door.

  Gasping for breath, she let Hunter raise her and wrapped her legs around his waist. He nudged his erection against her hipbones. She let out a strangled groan at the sensation.

  So close. They were so close to making love. Having sex. Screwing. All that stood in their way was a thin layer of French silk lace that were her panties. But that strip of pink lace stood in the way of more than just sex. A road had been laid before her and she wasn’t strong enough to walk down that path again.

  “I can’t. I…I need to stop. It’s not right. I’m—”

  “Engaged. I heard.” Hunter grazed
his mouth down her neck. “But being engaged is a hell of a lot different than being married. If you were married, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I’d still be here, but not like this. So you’d better come up with a different reason if you really want us to get off this train.”

  She struggled to respond. Hunter had misunderstood the reason for her hesitation. Her engagement wasn’t what had stopped her.

  Gerald had insisted on an open relationship. Well, really, he’d insisted they never have sex. So long as she was discreet, she could take on any lover they chose. With the additional caveat that emotions were to stay out of any extramarital encounter, he’d added. Emotional connections made affairs messy…complicated, he’d said. Liz hadn’t had the heart to point out to Gerald that he was deeply in love with his secret male lover, and had instead readily agreed to the stipulation. The thought of being emotionally connected to anyone made her skin crawl.

  Been there, done that.

  She could sleep with Hunter with impunity—worry about fidelity hadn’t been the source of her hesitation.

  “Tell me you don’t want this,” Hunter said. “Tell me you don’t want me.” When she didn’t respond, he groaned and slipped his hand away. She mewled, but he pulled them away from the door. A few steps brought them to her bed where they tumbled together, a mass of writhing limbs and open mouths.

  “Tell me, Lizzie.” Hunter’s voice sounded harsh and guttural, thick with emotion and lust. “Tell me you don’t want me before it’s too late.”

  A sob caught in her throat. She should say something, should tell Hunter to stop, should beg him to leave her alone, but no words formed.

  How could she tell him she didn’t want him…when she’d spent the last thirteen years fighting that very desire?

  * * *

  Hunter’s heart pounded, blood flowing hard and hot through his veins. How he’d gone from trying to tell Lizzie about their daughter to being driven beyond reason with lust remained a mystery.

  All he knew was that from the moment he’d kissed her and she’d opened her mouth to him, he’d entered a different dimension. A dimension where he’d once existed as a teenager, passionately and desperately in love. A dimension so full and rich he wasn’t willing to leave. Not yet.