He raised his head to look at her. “None?” he teased. “Not one?”
Liz looked off into the distance. “I kept track. Not one of my wishes came true. Well,” she added, “sometimes they would, but they wouldn’t last. Like I’d wish my mom would stop drinking. She would, for while at least, then the binges would start again.”
He let his hands fall to his lap. “And me. You’d wished for me to fall in love with you and I did, but then…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. Anger shot through him, anger triggered by the memory of Tina, drunk and smoking a cigarette, lying her face off, telling him Liz didn’t want him anymore. Anger at his own actions: the coward he’d been after he thought Liz didn’t want him anymore. What’d he’d done to her.
How he’d fucking destroyed her.
“Hell, Liz,” he said, his voice harsh, “you didn’t deserve what happened. You didn’t deserve Tina lying to you, or me not fighting for you. Or what I said in class on the first day of school, after you’d had the baby. What I called you. What I did to you.”
Her eyes went dark. “Don’t—don’t say it. Don’t remind me of what you said. Of what happened after. I don’t want to remember. Oh, God, I don’t want to remember. I just want to forget.” Liz grasped his wrists and pressed his palms to her breasts. She kissed him, hard, desperate. Desperate to forget.
Reality faded, headed toward nothingness as the taste, scent, and feel of Liz overwhelmed his consciousness. He could take her, now. Wanted to take her. To fit their bodies together. Mate.
But the memory of his actions all those years ago flashed back in his mind.
“Liz,” he ground out, pulling back. “I was young and so very stupid, and I hurt like hell. It was as if I’d been hit with shrapnel when I saw you there in class, having given birth to our daughter not even a week before. You were laughing and having fun, like you didn’t even care, so I lashed out, and in the worst way possible. You have to know how deeply—”
“Hunter, stop.” Liz seemed to choke on the words. Her eyes squeezed shut. He watched as she struggled to regain composure. Her eyes popped open and she flashed him a bright but trembling grin. “Just…just don’t say the words. Forget what happened. It’s all in the past, anyway.”
Her light tone didn’t fool him, however. He knew what pain he’d caused her, knew how his one callous statement made in anger had significantly altered her life in Meadowview. After that summer Liz went to live in Sacramento, she’d returned to Meadowview without the baby. No one besides him, his parents, and Tina had ever known she was pregnant. But on the first day of school, he’d walked into his Advanced Algebra class to see Liz sitting at her desk, surrounded by friends, chatting and giggling.
As if she hadn’t a care in the world.
As if she hadn’t broken his heart and given away his baby.
And he’d snapped.
In front of the entire class, bragging, he announced Liz had been pregnant and he’d been the one who knocked her up. When she looked at him with that horrible, horrified expression on her face, he made things even worse.
He’d sneered and said loudly, intending for all to hear his proclamation, “Liz Pritchard’s the town slut.”
Dry leaves rustled overhead, the sound pulling Liz’s mind back from the edge of a dark abyss. She couldn’t go there—to that day when her life ended. The day when Hunter had broken her heart again by rejecting her with such finality. He’d created a reputation for her she hadn’t deserved.
She’d died a little that moment, and had been reborn in the image Hunter created for her: town slut. At Hunter’s words, all thirty kids in her algebra class had turned to stare at her, judging her. Rejecting her. Her friends eased themselves off her desk and found their own seats, turning their backs on her after class. When the school bell rang at the end of the day, she’d found the word “Whore” written in Magic Marker across her locker.
Everything changed after that day. She’d been shunned from her popular social clique, ignored by her tennis and swim teammates. She’d dropped out of all extracurricular activities and had taken to ditching school. Her friends became the other students who inevitably ended up with her in detention—an eclectic mix of rebel Goths, stoners, and juvenile delinquents, joined together by the common denominator of having been rejected by their peers.
“Liz—”
She covered Hunter’s mouth with her own, kissing away the words he’d been about to utter. She didn’t want to hear an apology she couldn’t accept. He’d loved her once, and that was all that mattered.
She broke the kiss, brushing his unbuttoned shirt open with her hands, exposing his muscled chest. His body had changed significantly since she’d last touched him. Expanded. Matured. A smile wove its way across her face. Her youthful Hunter had grown into quite the man. And she craved him.
She traced the lines of his pectorals, then his abs and obliques. Forget about a six-pack: this man was more than ripped. She let her fingers trail lower to cover his fly. When he sucked in a breath, her smile grew wider.
“We passed first base a long time ago,” she said, reaching a hand up to stroke his chest again, this time with the flat of her fingers trailing down the length of his chest, his belly, his…
Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. It had been a long time since she’d made out with a man. Or even had foreplay. Contrary to what most of Meadowview thought of her, she didn’t sleep around.
“And rounded second base when I touched your boobs.” Hunter chuckled. He brushed her blouse and bra straps off her shoulders, down her arms, until her breasts were bared to the morning sun. He leaned forward and licked a nipple.
“I think we’re officially at third base now,” she said, moaning softly when he flattened his tongue over the light brown bud.
He raised his head up and caught her eye. “But we’re not naked yet.”
Her body wouldn’t hold her up any longer. She drooped, limp like a wilted tulip, in his arms. “I…” Thinking was becoming more difficult the longer Hunter licked her breasts. “I thought being naked was fourth base.”
Hunter laid her down on the grass, following her body with his. The sensation of his skin on hers flooded her body with sharp tingles. His warm chuckle spread through her like honey.
“Technically,” he said, working his hands between their bodies to unzip her pants, “getting a girl naked is third base. Being naked is—”
“Oh, God, stop talking baseball and undress me.”
Hunter obliged.
She hiked up her hips, allowing him to strip her of her jeans and pink lace panties, and then watched in wonder as he kicked off his shoes and shucked his own jeans. Tension tightened in her. Anticipation and need built. Naked, he hovered over her until she wound an arm around his neck and pulled his body to hers.
His touch, when it came, wasn’t the same frenzied, lust-filled scramble of a few days ago. Instead, Hunter explored her body with gentle fingers and a sense of reverence. As if he were honoring her, basking in her presence.
The soft, sweeping brush of his hair on her belly when he lowered his head made her shudder. The press of his palms against her inner thighs, encouraging her to spread herself wide for him, made her quake. And when he slid a finger deep inside her most primal place, she nearly came undone.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply. “All of your body is beautiful. I love looking at you. Always have.”
Every nerve ending in her body fired in rapid release. Her hips rocked upward, seeking more. Her hands, trembling, sought out Hunter on their own accord. A rustling in the underbrush told her they were not alone. But the forest animals wouldn’t be bothered by two humans mating in their meadow.
“You feel beautiful, too. Soft and silky, like running my fingers across butter.” He pressed two fingers inside, then pulled them out, repeating the process with a slow, undulating rhythm.
She closed her eyes and tossed her head from side to side. The ache building inside had reached its zen
ith. Warmth surged through her veins. Arousal, combined with a sense of power. Not power over Hunter, like the kind she’d sought a few days ago, but the simple power of being a woman. The power of being able to elicit such a primal response from a man.
The other day had been frenetic and only about control. She hadn’t taken the time or allowed herself the emotional vulnerability to…to what?
When he nudged her knees wide and poised himself over her, she moaned, forgetting to think—fully engrossed in the erotic sensations flooding her, crashing over her like relentless waves.
She cried out and grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh, attempting to pull him into her. “Please, Hunter,” she managed to say, “please make love to me.”
“I didn’t bring a condom,” he rasped.
“It’s okay,” she managed to choke out. “I’m on the Pill. Can’t get pregnant. And I’m clean. If you are, too, we’re good.”
“I want to come in you,” he said, puffs of air from his breath blowing across her face. “I want us to come together.”
A rush of need overwhelmed her. She could wait no more—they could wait no more. She grabbed his hips and brought his body down on hers. He nudged her at the apex of her thighs and then slid in, a fraction of an inch. She cried out and grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh, attempting to pull him into her. Deep.
Hunter made a dark, husky sound low in his throat, then adjusted his weight and moved over her, propped up by his forearms on either side of her shoulders. “Look at me,” he said. “Look me in the eyes.”
Her eyelids were heavy, laden with intense arousal, but she forced them open, concentrated on bringing Hunter’s face into focus. His lips were tight against his teeth, his eyes dark and stormy. A frisson of fear ran through her—not fear of Hunter, but of the intensity of his gaze. Something smoldered there—something too powerful for her to explore.
He braced his upper body with a forearm on the grass and slid a hand under her rear, digging his fingers into her butt cheek. As he pushed inside, he raised her off the ground and hunched his back, rooting deep. She cried out but didn’t falter from holding his gaze.
He was still for a moment, then powered into her, each stroke more forceful that the one before. He kept his gaze glued to hers, even as his muscles bunched under her hands, even as she knew his power was threatening to release. He was waiting for her.
His face before her became a blur of tan and brown against a backdrop of green, but she kept her eyes open, vaguely aware of Hunter’s expression.
An expression that had gone quickly from heated arousal and shadowed depths to a warm…glow.
Her own desire climbed higher with each heady thrust, every penetrating stroke. Her mind swirled, going wonderfully blank of everything except Hunter. And then she was shuddering around him and he was slamming into her with a guttural cry.
And they were floating. In the sky. On the clouds. In the ether.
He collapsed on top of her then, gathering her in his arms, stroking her back with feathery touches. She rocked against him and burrowed her way deeper into his grasp. Aftershocks rocked her.
Above them a bird sang, a throaty warble, and her heart warmed. She switched her gaze to the white puffy clouds in the distance.
Thunderheads.
Beautiful in their voluptuous swell and seemingly serene, the clouds carried a turmoil of energy inside them—ready to send lightning bolts crackling to the ground and thunder shattering the tranquil calm of a summer’s day.
Nervous tension sneaked its way into her chest, like a cat stalking its prey. Making love to Hunter had been the culmination of years of waiting and wanting, hoping and wishing. The tender and erotic act had satisfied every waking dream, even surpassing what she’d thought possible if she and Hunter were ever to come together again.
“Lizzie.”
She quivered. Somehow, Hunter’s quiet voicing of her name did her in each time. He stroked the side of her face and she turned to the touch, laying her cheek in the palm of his hand, pressing a kiss on his thumb pad as he brushed her lips.
“Look at me,” he said.
She couldn’t. What they’d shared had been too beautiful. She couldn’t look into his eyes and see the shadows there. The wall between them.
“Do it.” His request had become a demand.
She didn’t do well with demands. Didn’t do well with being ordered around. But this wasn’t an order…not really. This was Hunter, needing something from her.
“Please.” This time he’d spoken quietly, and his voice had trembled. Had caught in his throat. As if he’d risked everything in asking this of her.
Turning her head, she caught his gaze with hers. And gasped at the raw emotion she saw in his eyes.
“You are my Lizzie,” he said simply.
And her heart twisted. Because her life as Elizabeth Picard lay ahead. Liz Pritchard no longer existed. There was no Lizzie.
Hunter Thorne had made love to a ghost.
* * *
Hunter entwined his hand in Liz’s, lifting their hands skyward to point out a billowy cloud above. She’d closed down again, but at least she hadn’t taken off. Had instead turned and curled up against him. Contented warmth stole over him and he found himself relaxing into the cool earth beneath his back.
With Liz at his side, counting thunderheads, all seemed well. He could almost forget about what had brought the two of them together: their daughter, Abbie. Who would be arriving in a few hours to meet the parents who’d long ago walked away from her.
“Look,” Liz said, pointing to a cloud on the periphery of the horizon, “that one looks like a double-scoop vanilla cone.” She snuggled closer to him.
His heart flip-flopped. Liz had loved him. For years he’d believed Tina, thinking that Liz had wanted to break up with him but had been too afraid to face the conflict. He’d hated her for breaking his heart in such a chicken-shit fashion.
But Tina had lied, and Liz had loved him. Really loved him. She hadn’t let him go—hadn’t dumped him out of her life like the dregs in a coffee cup. She’d missed him that summer as much as he’d missed her. But unlike the way he’d turned his pain into hate, Liz never had.
She’d turned her pain to emptiness.
He’d come to Meadowview with anger still in his heart. But his anger had only masked the long-existing hurt. Seeing Liz’s vulnerability when she’d tried to seduce him had placated his former hate and derision for the woman. He’d seen a spark of that old Liz, the exposed and innocent Liz of their childhood. The Liz he’d known before he’d knocked her up and then ruined her reputation.
“That one looks like Einstein’s hair,” he said, moving their joined hands to point to another puffy white and grey cloud edging its way into the skyline. Liz giggled and he melted again. He hadn’t heard her laugh since…he tried to recall the last time he’d heard Liz laugh.
He winced. After he’d fucked up her reputation at school, Liz had never laughed. Never smiled.
Had played the part of the bitch, and had played it well.
“At least the wind’s blowing northeast, otherwise the smoke from that fire in the mountains would have made grimy clouds and a grey sky instead of this gorgeous scene,” Liz said.
He kissed her again. Liz was the gorgeous one. He couldn’t care less about clouds in the sky with her in his arms.
He caught sight of the time on his watch. With a nine-hour drive from Salt Lake City, Abbie would most likely arrive around mid-afternoon. They still had several hours. “We’d better get dressed and head back to the house. I have a few errands to run before Abbie’s due to arrive.” He pressed a kiss to Liz’s temple.
She tipped her head upward and held his gaze with glittering eyes, the deep emerald refracting light from tears that had built up. “Will she hate us?” she asked.
He flinched. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “Her emails all indicate she’s excited to see us. I don’t think she’d drive
halfway across the country to chew us out.”
“But we let her go. I let her go.” Liz sat up and reached for her clothes. “She has to hate me. You hated me.”
He watched as she began dressing, disappointed when she slid her jeans over her hips. “I did,” he admitted. “But I was hurt, you know? Hurt that you’d dumped me, and really hurt that you wanted to give the baby up for adoption.”
Liz’s hands stilled over her buttons. He placed a hand on her arm and she flinched.
“I held out hope, though,” he added, “that maybe when you had the baby you’d change your mind about the adoption, at least. But Tina said you wanted the baby to have a better life than it would have with the two of us as parents, and that you needed all the money you’d get from the parents—”
Liz pulled back, her arm sliding out from under his hand. “Wait a minute. What are you talking about? What money?”
Hunter felt like he’d been sucker-punched in the gut. Anger flared over him. How could Liz have forgotten the money? He looked down on her, surprised to see her eyes wide, their pupils dilated.
What the hell?
Could the money have been something else Tina had lied about? Had Liz never known her daughter had been traded for a chunk of cash?
“What money, Hunter?” Liz’s voice sounded and dark and hollow, like it was coming from a cavern deep underground. “Tell me about the money.”
His heart beat hard in his chest. He sucked in a breath, suddenly depleted of oxygen. Liz’s grim expression spoke louder than words: she hadn’t known.
Lizzie had never known.
All these years he’d hated her for fucking selling their baby, but she’d never known.
He cleared his throat before speaking. “The thirty thousand dollars Tina said the adoptive couple gave you in exchange for our daughter. That money.”
Liz felt on the verge of either throwing up or passing out. All these years, Hunter had thought she’d sold their daughter. For thirty thousand dollars. Had her mother taken money for the adoption without her even knowing? Tina had done some rotten things as a mother, but what Hunter implied was too much for Liz to swallow.
Claiming The One (Meadowview Heat 3; The Meadowview Series 3) Page 11