Taking Him (Lies We Tell) (17 page)

The ache got even worse as he turned around, the angel wings on his back making her mouth go dry like they always did. She had so many fantasies about touching those wings. Tracing the feathers with her fingers. Brushing them with her mouth. They had come to mean so much in her mind, stand for so many feelings she couldn’t have named half of them. Desire. Longing. Familiarity. Comfort. Protection.

The tattoo artist said nothing as Hunter lay down on the table, pillowing his head on his folded arms. Lying there in his dress pants, his bare, brown back covered in black feathers, he was like some dark, sensual angel fallen to earth. Ellie went over to him, standing beside his shoulder as the tattoo artist finished preparing his gun. Hunter didn’t turn his head but she remembered how he’d held her hand. How he hadn’t let go until he’d had to.

So she put her fingers on his shoulder, let them rest there, the warmth of his skin seeping into her hand and up her arm, filling her.

And she kept them there as the tattoo artist put his gun to Hunter’s back and began to work.

Pain had always been the best way to keep things at a distance. To mask all the feelings until he couldn’t feel them anymore. And getting new ink was the best kind of pain. Adding feathers to the wings on his back, adding and adding in the hope that one day, if he got enough of them, he’d finally feel clean. Less dirty. Less guilty.

But as Tony went to work on his back, for the first time in his life he couldn’t concentrate on the pain of the tattoo gun. Because Ellie had her hand on his shoulder, and the warmth of her touch seemed to cancel out everything else. Her fingers resting on his skin felt like a ray of sunlight, spreading out through him, and he found himself zeroing in on that instead. On her, instead of the shame. Instead of the guilt and the film of dirt that sometimes seemed to coat his skin. Ellie was a far better focus than all the feelings associated with Liz.

He turned his head, looking up at her. Her attention was on Tony and the tattooing process, fine red brows drawn together slightly as she watched.

He shouldn’t have left without her. Should at least have told her where he was going. But after his run-in with Liz he’d had to go, get out of there. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought her here—God knew he’d rather she caught a taxi home than watch him get a few more feathers, because despite what she’d told him before, he knew there would be questions afterwards. Questions he didn’t want to answer. But now he was glad she’d stayed. Glad to have her beside him with her hand on his shoulder. Glad in a way he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to examine yet.

On one of the other tattoo chairs next to where he lay, a guy getting a sleeve done had put down the magazine he’d been looking at and was now looking toward Hunter. And not at the work he was having done. The guy was quite clearly checking Ellie out.

Hunter frowned as a peculiar feeling rose inside him, a feeling that was partly the familiar protectiveness he always felt toward her and partly something new. Possessiveness. As if Ellie were his and no one else’s. Which was weird because he’d never been possessive over anyone in his entire life.

I can give you what you need. Not that little girl you’ve been grooming…

Pain flashed along his nerve endings as Tony moved the gun, a cleansing fire. Burning away the memory of Liz’s snide comment. No, he wouldn’t think of that. Because he wasn’t some sex pervert grooming a kid. He wasn’t. Shit, he’d never thought of Ellie like that until that night she’d unzipped her bloody jumpsuit.

Unlike someone else maybe?

Hunter shut that thought down. Instead he responded to the urge that had him wanting to show the other guy Ellie was out of bounds. Moving his arm, he reached down, curling his fingers around the back of her knee then sliding it upwards, his palm on her thigh.

She gave a little start as he touched her, eyes going wide as she looked down at him. He didn’t say anything, holding her gaze, as conscious of her hand on him as he was of his hand on her. And something passed between them, something that perhaps was understanding or recognition. A shift in the balance.

“Why are you still here?” He hadn’t even realised he’d meant to speak.

“Because you need someone to be.” She leaned against the table, thumb moving gently on his shoulder in an idle caress.

He should deny it. Should say he didn’t need anyone, anyone at all. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. So instead he closed his eyes and gripped her thigh a little harder as the needles dug in.

Her warmth stayed with him, tattooed into his skin as surely as the ink from Tony’s gun, so that an hour later, when it was over, he could still feel her touch even when she took her hand away to let him put his shirt back on. Like a burn or a brand, it stayed there. And as they walked out of the tattoo parlor, he knew he wanted that touch everywhere. All over his body. Because if anyone could sear out the feelings that Liz put inside him, it was her.

“Me holding you is probably going to hurt,” she said as they approached the bike.

“Don’t worry, sweetness. I can handle it.”

She fiddled with her helmet, nibbling on her lip, the streetlights making the silver of her under-dress glitter through the black lace that covered it. Yeah, she had questions, all right, and was probably working her way up to asking them. But not here. This crappy street in this crappy part of town wasn’t where he wanted to have her Q and A.

“Get on the bike, Ellie,” he said, picking up his own helmet. “I want to get home.”

“Hunter—”

“Hey, hot stuff!”

Both of them looked round as one of the working girls who’d been hanging around the street corner wandered over to them. Hunter recognised her. Over the years, he’d bought himself time with a hooker, mainly because they never asked questions and there was no risk of any kind of intimacy. His kink was nothing compared to the requests they got and as long as they were paid, they were happy. It was easier, sometimes.

“You need anything tonight?” The hooker grinned at him. “Discount for a special customer.”

They liked him because he didn’t fuck them. Easy money.

Ellie had gone very still, looking the hooker up and down, obviously noting her familiarity with him. Shit. As if the evening could get any worse.

“Not tonight,” he said curtly.

The woman glanced at Ellie and laughed. “Not even a three-way? Aww, well, no harm in asking.” She turned on her stiletto heel and walked off again.

“You know her?” Ellie held her helmet between her hands, watching him.

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t deny it. No point really, not now. “Are you going to get on?”

“I didn’t think you’d need to—”

“Pay for sex?” Fuck, he didn’t want to talk about this with her. “You don’t know what I need, sweetness. So get on the bike and save the discussion for later.”

For a long moment she stared at him and he thought she was going to argue. But then she stuck the helmet abruptly on her head and got on the bike without a word.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to her when they got home. First Liz, then the tattoo, then the hooker. But perhaps he didn’t need to say anything. Perhaps when they got home, he’d find something to distract her. Because after all, he’d given her a choice back at the wedding. Answers or sex, and she’d chosen sex. And as her thighs closed around his hips and her arms came around his waist, he was glad of her choice. Because he was starting to think that despite the complications that came with sex, it was the simpler option of the two.

Chapter Ten

When they got back to Hunter’s place, Ellie strode into the kitchen then stopped, realising she didn’t know why she was in there. Turning, she went down the hallway toward the lounge and then stopped again. Because she didn’t really know what she was doing there either.

In fact she didn’t know what she was doing, period.

She could still feel the pressure of Hunter’s hand on her leg as he’d touched her in the tattoo parlor. Still see his dark eyes looking into hers, making her think the connection between them wasn’t just in her head after all. Still see the look on his face as the prostitute had approached them afterwards.

You don’t know what I need, sweetness…

Once she’d thought she’d known. But she didn’t anymore. Not after Elizabeth Chase. Not after the tattoo or the hooker. Or his rules or his silence.

Her chest started to get tight. Jesus, she was in over her head here and perhaps it was too late to get out.

Behind her she heard Hunter dump his keys on the console table beside the front door. Then nothing.

Ellie turned sharply to find him standing with his hands in his pockets, watching her with that intensity she was coming to recognise.

“Hunter,” she began, but the words died in her throat as he came toward her. Purposeful and intent, graceful as a lion running down prey. And when he reached her, he took her by the hips and pushed her gently up against the wall. Then he put his hands flat on the wall on either side of her head and looked down into her eyes.

The breath left her lungs, a burst of excitement flooding through her veins. Desire rising, thick and hot and unstoppable. Smashing through all her doubts and confusion like a wrecking ball through an old wooden building.

He didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. She knew exactly what he wanted.

Dropping his hands from the wall, he took hold of the hem of her black lace dress and drew it up her body. Wordlessly she lifted her arms so he could pull it off her. She shivered as it came off and he dropped it on the floor. Then he did the same to the silver slip she’d put on underneath the black lace, discarding that too, so all she wore was a black lace bra, bright purple lace knickers, her tights and her platform boots.

Not saying a word, Hunter began to take the pins out of her hair, letting them drop with soft, tinkling sounds as her hair came loose and fell over her shoulders.

Ellie stared at him while he took out the pins, watching the beautiful lines of his face, his expression absorbed as if this was a very important task and he didn’t want to be disturbed while doing it.

There were so many layers to him. So many secrets. So much complexity. She would never be able to work him out. Even sex, the thing that should have been the simplest of all, wasn’t.

There’s only one woman in his life and it’s not you…

The tightness in her chest intensified all of a sudden, her heart a heavy, unwieldy object, like a stone. She tried to swallow, her throat constricting.

Was that all she’d been? A convenient stand-in for someone else? Someone who knew him better. Someone who knew all his secrets.

He moved closer, warmth surrounding her, the scent of his skin like a drug to her senses. A hand settled on her hip, the other lightly moving over her collarbone, sliding under her bra strap to pull it down. She shivered as he exposed her breast, as his hand closed over it, his thumb circling one aching nipple.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered softly.

Ellie ignored him, looking straight up into his eyes. “Who do you see, Hunter? Who do you see when you look at me?”

The hand on her breast stilled but the taut, hungry expression on his face didn’t change. “I see you, Ellie.”

“No, you don’t. You see someone else.”

Black lashes came down, veiling his expression. Gently his fingers pinched her nipple sending sharp, burning pleasure through her. “Does it matter?”

Oh, shit, it was true, wasn’t it? Liz, the bitch, had been right. Tears pricked her eyes, the stone in her chest becoming unbearable. “Yeah,” she said thickly. “Yeah, it does.” She put out her hands, tried to push him away. But he didn’t move.

“Ellie, don’t.”

“I can’t—”

A finger beneath her chin, tilting her head back. Then his mouth came hard and hot down on hers.

He’d never kissed another woman before. He’d never wanted to. After Liz there had been something so disturbingly intimate about a kiss that the thought of it had always made his skin crawl. But he hadn’t been able to think of another way to stop Ellie’s questions. Distract her from the path she was heading down. The path always seemed to lead back to Liz no matter how hard he tried to direct it away.

Bracing himself, Hunter waited for the warnings to kick in. For the familiar flood of guilt and shame. For the twist of disgust in his gut. All the things he’d felt when Liz had kissed him earlier.

But they didn’t come. There was only the sting of his tattoo and the heat of Ellie’s mouth beneath his. The taste of her. Wine and strawberries, sunlight and heat. So new and so completely outside his experience it stunned him.

For a long moment all he could do was stand there in shock, waiting for a reaction that never came.

Ellie seemed to sense it and he felt her begin to pull away. But before he knew quite what he was doing, he’d put a hand behind her head, stopping her. Then a need he’d never felt before rushed through him, a powerful urge he couldn’t resist even if he’d wanted to.

He raised his other hand, cupping her face between his palms, beginning to explore the lush warm mouth under his own. Christ, she tasted like heaven. Hot and sweet and he wanted more. Deeper. Harder. He slid his fingers into her hair, curling around the soft strands to hold her in place, tipping her head back, exploring further.