Taking Him (Lies We Tell) (13 page)

He didn’t say anything to this but she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out. “Vin mentioned you were pissy with him today,” he said in a conversational tone. “He wanted me to find out why.”

Ellie turned, mentally bracing herself for the impact his physical presence had on her.

But naturally enough that didn’t help. It never bloody did.

Hunter sat casually on one of the kitchen chairs, knees spread in that lazy, dominant posture that always made her catch her breath. He had one elbow resting on the table, his other hand on one powerful thigh. Judging by the fact he was in clean denim and a white T-shirt, he’d obviously gone upstairs to shower and change after arriving home. And she hadn’t heard him come in, too busy brooding over her pasta sauce.

She folded her arms over her breasts to hide her body’s instinctive reaction to him. And then his dark eyes met hers and her heartbeat rocketed. Crap. When would this
ever
end? Would she feel like this every single time she looked at him? Twenty years from now? Thirty?

If so, she wasn’t going to be able to bear it.

“He can’t ask me himself?” She tried to sound cool and uncaring, but it came out sounding petulant.

“Apparently you told him to piss off.”

“That would be right. I don’t particularly want to talk to him.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

Bugger it. He was doing the laidback, friend thing he always did when Vin’s directness got her back up. Usually it meant Vin was worried about her and hadn’t been able to get any answers out of her. Back when she’d been a teenager, she’d preferred talking to Hunter. His soft approach had always worked with her.

But not today. Today she hated it.

“Don’t do that,” she said. “This is the last time I’m going to say this: I will not go back to being Vin’s little sister with you, Hunter. Not anymore.”

He didn’t reply for a long moment, watching her. Christ, if he told her she’d
always
be Vin’s little sister with him so help her, she was going to hit him.

But he didn’t. “It’s me you’re pissed with, I know. But don’t take it out on Vin. What’s happening with us has got nothing to do with him.”

Ellie widened her eyes in exaggerated shock. “Oh my God. ‘Us’? There’s an ‘us’ now? You’re not going into your usual denial thing?”

Something dark gleamed in his eyes. “No.”

The simple word seemed to sink down into the space between them like a stone into still water, casting out ripples. And she became aware of the distance he was from her. Of the pressure of his gaze. Of his stillness. And it wasn’t the stillness of a man waiting for something to happen. It was the stillness of a predator before it pounced.

Hunter couldn’t say what had crystallised inside him. Only the moment Ellie had told him she wasn’t going back to being Vin’s sister anymore had made him aware that not only would she never be that to him again, he didn’t want her to be either.

Standing against the stove, her arms crossed over her breasts, red hair loose over her shoulders, she looked strong and sexy and very self-possessed. Her chin lifted a little in challenge. She had black jeans on today and a very loose black T-shirt, the strap of a bright purple tank top peeking out from underneath the T-shirt. And all the confusion in his head became very clear.

He wanted to touch her. Wanted her to touch him. What Vin didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And Ellie would be gone in around two and a half weeks anyway. So why not indulge himself? She wanted him. He wanted her. There was no drama, right?

What would it be like to be inside her?

It was the one thing he’d never done. The one thing Liz had never manipulated out of him. Oh, he’d begged her for it—he’d been seventeen, after all. But she’d always refused. In her twisted mind, the fact that she’d never screwed him had meant she’d never cheated on her husband. And afterwards his virginity had remained the one thing he’d kept for himself. The one thing no one could take from him.

He’d never felt the urge to give that to anyone before. Not even a glimmer. The power inherent in keeping it was too precious to give up. But that was before Ellie. Before he’d touched her. Before he’d felt her around his fingers. Hot, tight, wet.

His body hardened. Became restless and aching. Suddenly he couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

Jesus, was he insane? This morning at the site with Vin all he’d been able to think about was the trust Vin had given him. And how he’d broken that trust. Now all he could think about was touching Ellie. Screwing Ellie. Two days ago the thought of a woman touching him was enough to make his skin crawl with distaste, and yet now the only thing he could think about was Ellie’s hands on him.

Yeah, he was insane all right. This situation wasn’t only messed up. It was fucked up beyond all recognition. Spinning wildly out of control.

Really, he should walk out of here. Keep the distance between him and Ellie. Do the denial thing she’d accused him of doing. But he couldn’t. He was pinned beneath the weight of all the years he’d spent without touch. And right in front of him was the one woman who’d broken through that barrier. Who could ease the hunger that gripped him by the throat and refused to let go.

Hunter forgot about the wedding. Forgot about Vin. He forgot about everything except his need for Ellie.

“Come here,” he said softly, and he didn’t make it a request. A demand was the only thing he had room for.

She blinked at him. “What?”

“You heard. Come here, sweetness. Now.”

Her intake of breath was audible in the quiet of the kitchen. The look in her eyes changed, the silver spark of anger lurking in the gray depths becoming something else. She dropped her arms, pushed away from the stove and walked toward him.

He couldn’t breathe as she came closer. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t take his eyes off hers. She stopped right in front of him, a flush creeping over her cheeks, making her eyes gleam bright. “What do you want?”

Hunter didn’t reply. Instead he sat up, put his hands on her narrow hips and pulled her forward so she stood between his thighs. She made a soft sound, one that sounded like surprise, her hands curling into little fists at her sides.

He looked up at her, into her eyes. Saw the glitter of desire.

I used to imagine you in my head…. I wanted you so badly…

“Hunter,” she said thickly. “What are you doing?”

“What you want me to do.” With slow, leisurely movements he began to undo the buttons on her jeans.

She took a ragged sounding breath. “But you don’t want…want this.”

He opened the denim and pushed her jeans down, revealing the soft paleness of her stomach. Today her underwear was cotton. Bright green with little blue stars. “Whatever gave you that idea?” He leaned forward, pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin above the waistband of her knickers, the scent of her filling his head, heady and sweet as incense. He closed his eyes, inhaling her, feeling the shiver that went through her.

“We need to talk about this,” she whispered.

“You really want to talk?” He let the backs of his fingers stroke gently over her bare skin, prompting another shiver. “I think we can do better than talking.”

“What, and have you distance me again? I don’t think so.” She tensed, preparing to move away, but Hunter tightened his hold, keeping her right where she was. Guilt threaded through the desire because she was right, they did need to talk. It would be the right thing to do. But shit, he’d always been fucking useless at doing the right thing. And besides, why bother when guilt only added spice to the mix? It always had done.

He slid an arm around her waist, keeping her close, then he let his hand drift over the material of her knickers, pressing lightly right where her clit was, circling.

Ellie gave a soft little gasp, a tremble shaking her body. “Hunter…”

He looked up at her, continuing to stroke her through the cotton with his thumb, watching her flush deepen, her white teeth sinking into her bottom lip as he pressed harder.

He had so many boundaries and yet she made him want to test them. Made him want to push through them. She’d touched him and the distaste, the crawling, tainted feeling he’d always experienced, had disappeared. Got buried under all that heat. And now he wanted… Jesus, he fucking
wanted…

“Touch me, sweetness,” he murmured. “Put your hands on me. Hold onto me while I make you come.”

She shivered again, her whole body trembling. Then her fingers dug into his shoulder while the palm of her other hand brushed over his head. He couldn’t stop the automatic tightening of his muscles, a whisper of discomfort brushing over him. But then it was gone and all he could feel was the burn of her touch. His arm tightened around her, holding her close, and then he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her green, star-scattered underwear, pushing down through the tangle of silky, copper curls to the wet heat he’d felt beneath the material.

Ellie gave a small cry, her fingers digging harder into his shoulder. Her other hand slid down over his head to grip the back of his neck. Christ…the touch of her hand on his bare skin felt like…like…being brushed with fire.

And he ignited.

He jerked her toward him and pulled down her underwear roughly, baring as much of her as he could. Then he bent farther and covered that delicious tangle of copper curls with his mouth.

Ellie gasped. “Oh God…”

Her weight shifted as she swayed, her body curving over his, her hands slipping down his back, her slender frame shivering.

He held her tight, tasting her, circling her hard little clit with his tongue, while he pulled her jeans and knickers down farther to give him better access. Then he slid his hand between her thighs and eased two fingers into the tight, wet heart of her.

“Harder, Hunter. Up a little bit. Yes…that’s it. Good boy. Oh, very good boy…”

The flashback hit him hard because the moment Ellie had touched him he’d forgotten. Forgotten everything. But now memory flooded him. Of the afternoon Liz gave him his first lesson in how to pleasure a woman. An unwelcome, unwanted memory.

He shut his eyes, fighting the voice in his head. Fighting the past that threatened to pull him under, the feeling of dirtiness that began its slow, inexorable creep over his skin.

Then Ellie gave a soft moan and her nails scraped his back through the cotton of his T-shirt. The pain was negligible but it was enough.

The past receded and Hunter poured every ounce of concentration he had into the woman in his arms. Into the blinding heat and desire and musky sweetness of what was happening right now.

Ellie. And oh Christ, she was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Spicy and sweet and salty all at once. The feeling of her curled over him, the heat of her around him was so intense and he was so fucking hard. She felt so fucking good. Tasted so fucking good.

Ellie cried out, the sound of a sob catching in her throat, inner muscles clenched around his fingers. Hunter held her tightly as the shudders racked her, the memories, the flashbacks, all wiped away by the heat of the woman in his arms. By her taste. By her scent.

Wiped clean.

He closed his eyes, holding her for a little while because he was so hard it hurt.

Then, as her body grew lax, he moved, adjusting her so her weight was on his knee, her head on his shoulder. Taking her hand, he put it on the fly of his jeans, pressed down.

“I want your hand on my cock,” he ordered softly, pulling open his jeans. “Do it now, Ellie.”

She didn’t say anything, only did what he wanted, the cool touch of her fingers sliding into his boxers nearly making him come on the spot. Then she held him, squeezing, and he groaned.

He could feel her breath against the side of his neck and then the brush of her mouth on the bare skin above the neckline of his T-shirt. The softness of it seared him and he put his hand over hers, urging her faster, harder.

Ellie made a soft noise, turned her head, and he felt her teeth on his skin, closing down on the sensitive place where neck meets shoulder. The bite sent an arc of searing hot pleasure right down his spine so that he gasped her name. And came.

Chapter Eight

Ellie’s heartbeat thundered in her head. She could feel the aftershocks shaking him, his breathing uneven and hoarse. The salty, musky taste of his skin filled her mouth, the scent of him everywhere, and she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to even breathe in case the moment shattered.

She should have pulled away from him before, she knew she should. But she couldn’t resist him, hungry for anything he’d give her. And she was glad she hadn’t now.

God, she’d done that to him. Made him sound like that. Made him demand like that. It gave her the most intense satisfaction she’d ever had. Not even hearing she’d got the job in Tokyo had made her feel quite the same.

She turned her head into his neck and shut her eyes, breathing him in, wanting to hold on to the closeness with him for as long as she could. Because sooner or later, there would be distance. There always was with Hunter.

He shifted and she thought that perhaps this was the moment when he’d push her away, but he didn’t. Instead she felt his body move and then the rasp of a paper towel he must have got from the roll on the table as he cleaned both of them up. She kept her eyes closed, pressed her cheek against the warmth of his skin.