Exposing the Heiress (10 page)

Hunt smiled. “He ordered you to wear it, and you figuratively flip him off.”

“Good start,” Adam said. “Then I think you two should show up in public together, maybe this weekend, and make sure a picture turns up on social media.”

“Like at an event or something? That will put Hunt in the public eye, and then this place will be swarmed with media. It’ll be ugly.”

“He means like a date,” Hunt said. “Show Madden you’ve moved on. That you are so not afraid of him, you’ll flaunt me in his face.”

Alyssa looked down into his eyes. Remote. Cold. Angry. Determined. “A fake date. I see.” It made sense. That would enrage Nate.

She nodded slowly, ignoring the distaste of using this thing between her and Hunt to bait her ex. Taking something that had been real to her—and temporary, she knew that, but still real—and make it fake. That’s how she’d started with Nate, fake dates, and look how that had ended. But now wasn’t the time to be weak.

“All right. A fake date. Not like I haven’t done that before.”

…

The rest of the night her words echoed in his head. Through their quiet dinner, and as Lyssie fiddled with her website, losing herself as she worked, occasionally biting on her thumbnail, Hunt hadn’t been able to stop watching her. A combination of fire and sweetness that twisted him up like a pretzel. So much so it drove him out to his studio just to think.

A fake date. Not like I haven’t done that before.

With Madden, that asshole who’d used her, manipulated her then threatened her. Damn it. Hunt stretched his neck and flexed his fingers. What he was doing was no better. Oh yeah, he was protecting her and refusing to take payment.

But then he seduced her.

Christ. That look in her eyes, the absolute sadness when she’d agreed that they’d do a fake date this weekend. There was nothing fake about what he and Lyssie had. What was worse, she really hadn’t dated after giving up her baby. He was pretty sure the only two men she’d been with had been Scott and Nate, neither of whom had treated her as she deserved.

This was bullshit. Oh, he understood the tactical part of pushing Nate’s buttons, and frankly it appealed to him. If Hunt got really lucky, that slick bastard would try to eliminate Hunt to get him out of the way. Both Adam and Hunt were hoping for that. The prick would find himself dead or hurt badly enough to wish he was dead. So he was onboard with that. But not Lyssie believing he couldn’t be bothered to take her out on a real date. To make a goddamned effort for her, spend real time with her and show her how she deserved to be treated.

His eyes caught on the piece he was working on. Not his nightmares. No, this one was special, more powerful in its own way. Lyssie. He ran his finger along the emerging piece, but the cool clay wasn’t what he wanted to touch. He wanted to hold the flesh and blood woman in his house. Talk to her. Be with her. Erase the sadness from her eyes.
Enough.
After covering his work and cleaning his hands, he headed across the patio and into the house. Low music and the scent of warm chocolate greeted him. His mouth watered.

Then he caught sight of Lyssie. She had her back to him by the stove in tight white shorts, scooping brownies out of a pan directly into her mouth. With the music, she hadn’t heard him come in. He forgot everything but the sexy woman in his kitchen. Seeing her like this, eating brownies and dancing, drew him to her. He moved quietly up behind her and slapped his hands down on the counter, caging her. “Whatcha doing?”

She yelped, twisting her head around. Her expression screamed
busted
. “Umm, cutting the brownies?”

“With a spoon?”

Color splashed over her cheeks. Her chin went up. “It’s a more efficient system. No plates to wash.”

“Were you going to eat the entire pan by yourself?”

“Maybe.”

Despite his guilt, he grinned. Wrapping his hand around hers, he scooped up a spoonful of warm brownie, intending to steal a bite.

Her eyes flared. She leaned in and snatched the bite off the spoon before he could.

Hot. So hot. Forgetting his concern for a second, he said, “Bad girl.” He caught her ponytail and lowered his mouth to hers. Watching her eyes widen and hearing her breath hitch did things to his chest. “That was my bite.” He licked a leisurely stroke across her lips, tasting her skin and chocolate, coaxing her to open and share with him.

Her mouth parted and she slid her tongue against his. His brain melted at the taste of Lyssie and chocolate. Blood rushed, his heart pounded, and fire licked along his nerves. But he pulled back, determined to talk to her. “Are you baking brownies because you’re worried about Eli?”

“No. Griff texted me that they are at the Knight Ranch, and everything’s good.”

Excellent. Hunt had given Griff her number and now it was time Hunt manned up. “All right, then we need to talk about the date.”

“Okay.” She put the spoon down and faced him.

“I don’t want a fake date with you.”

The heat in her eyes died. Twisting away, she grabbed a sponge and started cleaning up. “Fine. Next week I’ll go to Maxine’s party. It’s a week from Friday. I assume you and the others can provide protection? It’s at Jinx Restaurant in Malibu, and Nate knows I’m going. Maybe he’ll try something there. In fact, I’ll have Maxine mention on her social media sites that I’m hosting the party, and that will—”

“Lyssie.”

For one second, she stood with her back to him, her head angled down, that sponge in her hand. Then she squared her shoulders and pivoted. “What?”

After taking the sponge from her hand, he tossed it and laid his palms on her hips. “We’ll go to Maxine’s party.” He understood how much her friend meant to her, and they’d go.

“Thanks.”

“I’d like very much to take you on a date, a real one. I’ll have Erin get a couple pics and post them to bait Madden, then you’re all mine.”

“You want to go on a real date?”

“Very much.” He wanted to do something no one else did for her, which meant it had to be damned special. Anyone could take her to expensive dinners, but Hunt had to figure out something that would rock her world, while keeping her safe, of course. “So how about it, princess? Will you go on a date with me?”

Chapter Eleven

Alyssa stood at the side of the four-person basket as they sailed nearly two thousand feet off the ground. Above them, duel burners fired hot air into the brightly colored balloon. Aside from the sounds of the burners, it was quiet up here. So serene it felt like she could almost touch heaven. With her camera, she captured a blanket of fog nestled between the mountains.

“So tell me, princess, are you impressed with our date?” Hunt spoke into her ear.

Shivers cascaded over her skin. His voice could do that to her. He stood close behind her, one arm on the basket, the other on her hip, holding her steady so she could film. For three days he’d refused to tell her where he was taking her for their date, only that she had to be ready before daybreak early Saturday morning.

It hadn’t been until they pulled up to the launch site and she saw the balloon rising off the ground as the burners inflated it that she’d gotten her answer. “It’s perfect.” Erin had met them there and gotten a few shots of them posing in front of the balloon and in the basket before takeoff.

Now they were on their
real date
. She lowered her camera, then reached down and tucked it into her bag.

“Done filming?”

Alyssa laid her hand over his on her hip. “I want to experience this, feel it.” The beauty floated by. They were moving pretty fast, but it felt as if they were lazily drifting, just the two of them and their pilot. “How did you think of this?”

Hunt angled his face over her shoulder to look down at her. “I wanted to do something you’d remember. I booked a private ride with someone I trust. Your safety comes first and Mac is discreet.”

Her heart tripped. He’d taken a lot of safety precautions including making sure they left in the dark so Lyssie wouldn’t be spotted. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to give her special moments. “I won’t forget.” Not this balloon ride, and not him.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, he said, “Don’t look at me like that. We’re not alone.”

“And if we were?” Their pilot, Mac, was on the other side of the basket, controlling the burners and giving them space.

Hunt made a noise in his chest. Burying his mouth against her ear, he pitched his voice into a husky whisper. “We’re going to be alone in part two of our date. I’ll show you then exactly what I plan to do to you.”

Anticipation shivered through her, while warmth flooded her chest. Hunt was giving her special memories and stealing her heart.

…

The croissant melted in Alyssa’s mouth. She sat on the floor, resting her back against the couch of the secluded cabin Hunt had secured from a friend. Between them was a plate mounded with warm croissants, cheese, and fresh melons. A fire crackled in the corner fireplace, music played softly in the background.

“So this is part two, the romantic getaway.” She’d read that on Erin’s Facebook page with a picture of the two of them taking off in the hot air balloon. Then Maxine had shared it as per the plan. She reached for her phone to check—

Hunt slipped her cell from her hand and tossed it aside. “This is our weekend, Lyssie. Forget the posts. Sienna is monitoring everything, and Adam is at my house. We put up more cameras to watch who tries to get access. If Madden shows up, we’ll capture him on video. Plus Cooper is watching him. This is our time now.” He picked up a strawberry, dipped it in fresh whipped cream and fed it to her.

Damn that was good.

“Talk to me, tell me how your website is going.”

Startled, she lifted her eyes. “Really?”

A smile broke out on his face, and he poured her some more coffee. “I love listening to you talk about Streets of Valor. You glow with passion and care so much. So yeah.” Handing her the cup, he said, “Really. I want to know.”

Hot pleasure danced in her stomach and in seconds she spilled out all her dreams. How much she loved doing it, loved meeting these people who lived through harsh realities and found a way to survive and triumph. Before she knew it, they’d polished off the food, Mimosas and coffee. “Anyway, the site is essentially ready when I want to launch it. But not now, I don’t want the soap opera of my life to distract from the stories and people I want to showcase.”

“Makes sense.” Hunt played with a strand of her hair, his eyes glinting. “The videos and pictures you showed me are incredible, powerful.”

“You wormed those out of me after giving me that statue.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. Maybe I owe you for that.”

His intense stare combined with the gentle touch as he played with her hair kicked up the low-grade sizzle that always hummed between them. “You’ll show me another of your sculptures?” Hope swelled in her. Alyssa wanted to understand what tortured him, what woke him in the nights and drove him out to the studio. She’d woken in his bed alone and worried, but unable to help him.

He didn’t respond for a few seconds.

Alyssa held her breath. What was he thinking?

“Yes.” Taking his hand from her hair, he fluidly rose to his feet. “But this one is special, Lyssie. It’s not death.”

Her mouth dried. “No?”

“It’s you.”

“You sculpted me?” What did that mean? She rolled to sit on her knees. “Now? You brought it here?”

He nodded. “You can film it if you want, Lyssie. If you hate it or it embarrasses you, I’ll make sure no one else ever sees it, but it’s mine. Understood?”

That possession in his voice flooded her. “Yes.”

He turned and strode out.

She scrambled to get her camera, mostly to calm her spinning thoughts.

He came in with it wrapped in a towel. Excitement and nerves clattered in her veins. Why did this mean so much to her? To get control, she trained her camera on Hunt. He stopped at the table behind the couch. “This is how I see you. My beautiful Lyssie.” Hunt unwrapped the statue and put it on the tall table.

She forgot about videoing and set her camera aside. The statue was a woman on her knees, arching back, arms reaching out and hair sweeping down. The lines were fluid and sensual arcs. Her long neck curved into her shoulders and breasts. Her knees were slightly parted, her sex hinted at but not defined. But the most stunning part, the part that caused a rushing sensation in Alyssa’s head, was that a circular section of the woman’s belly was missing. And there, floating in that space, was a ruby dragon tear, similar to the one she had inked on her stomach.

Moving closer, she drew her finger down one smooth arm, along the ribs to the hips. She touched cool dried clay yet she saw a warm-blooded, sensual and emotional woman.

Sexual. Vulnerable. Strong. Weak. Lover. And that teardrop—a mother.

He’d captured her, yet with more beauty than she could ever have imagined.

“Say something.”

His voice was right behind her. She turned, staring up into his eyes. “That’s how you see me?”

“Yes.”

“She’s magnificent.” Hunt had always been talented, but this was extraordinary. “What’s she reaching for?”

“Her dreams.”

He’d heard her, understood that she needed to follow her passion. “I don’t see myself as that sexual.”

“I do.” Hunt tucked his hand beneath her hair, sliding his thumb along the sensitive line of her throat. “Does it embarrass you that it’s a nude?”

Her nipples pebbled at his touch, but it was his gaze that pulled out her truth. “It’s a little overwhelming, but it’s also sexy that your hands did that while thinking of me.”

Lowering his head until his eyes burned into hers, Hunt said softly, “Lyssie.”

His scent surrounded her. “What?”

“We’re in part two. This date is ours, just you and me, and I want to make love to you.” He tugged her face closer and covered her mouth with his, sliding his tongue in, taking possession.

Her skin sizzled with the simmering need that he’d ignited on the balloon ride. When Hunt’s fingers dropped to the hem of her shirt, she pulled back and raised her arms for him to tug it off.

Hunt fingered the lace edge of her sheer, low-cut pink bra. “You’ve been wearing this beneath your clothes all day?”

Emboldened, wanting to be the woman he sculpted, she undid her jeans and shimmied them down, revealing her barely-there lace panties. “I wanted to surprise you.” It occurred to her that she hadn’t really dressed up for him or made any big effort. With Hunt, she never felt like she had to. But she wanted to.

He fished a condom out of his pocket and tossed it down on the table. In seconds, he stripped off his shoes, pants, shirt, boxers, until all he wore was the ink and a straining erection.

She traced the lines of the script and tribal markings over his shoulders and biceps, mapping every bulge and dip. Rising on her toes, she buried her nose in his throat, inhaling the scent of Hunt. Finding his pulse, she lapped at it.

Hunt drew his fingers down the line of her bra, then unhooked the front clasp and parted the lacy material. Pushing it off her shoulders, he brushed his knuckles along the sensitive undersides. Her nipples tightened, the peaks going rigid. “That’s hot.” He leaned down and sucked. Hard. Just how she liked it. Needed it. She threaded her fingers in his hair as he laved attention on one then the other. Desperate to touch him, she skated her hands over his rippled muscles to grip his hard length. She loved the feel of his cock, long and thick, heated steel beneath her stroking fingers.

He lifted his head. “More, Lyssie. I need to taste you.”

Before she could answer, or think, he dropped to his knees and peeled off her panties. His large hands, both deadly and talented, spread her open.

The cool air hit her sensitized folds, followed by his warm breath. Her nerves lit up. He pressed his huge ink-covered shoulders in between her thighs and dragged his tongue along her cleft.

Her belly clamped and hot need pooled. She shot her hand out, grabbing the table. The cool wood was a stark contrast to his warm, slightly rough tongue.

“So damned good.” Hunt growled the words and buried his face in her, licking and sucking until her legs shook.

It was building too fast, the pleasure coming at her. The intensity almost frightened her. “Hunt.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders. Couldn’t control it. “I’ll fall.”

He sat back, his eyes dilated, mouth wet. “Never. With me you’ll fly, not fall.” He snapped upright, ripped open the condom, and rolled it over his length. His chest rose and fell in harsh breaths, his cock bouncing in eagerness.

Moving behind her, he tugged her back to his front, his erection branding her lower back. “I’m going to hold you, Lyssie. You won’t fall.” Pushing her hair aside, he kissed along the curve of her neck, sending streaks to her nipples. Her clit swelled and throbbed.

Safe. Sexy. Cared for. It all filled her, ramping up her need. With no fear, she just felt.

Hunt licked her ear. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. Need you. I can’t let you go.”

She turned her head. His gorgeous eyes churned with lust, and something thicker. “Don’t let go.”

“I need you like this, to possess you.” Taking her hands, he bent her over, placing her palms on the table. He dragged his knuckles down her spine, gripped her hips to press the head of his erection in, paused, and then thrust, full and deep, filling and owning her. Touching all the places no one else could.

He covered her back, one hand slapping down next to hers, the other wrapped around her waist. “Mine, Lyssie.”

Two words undid them both. He thrust, pounded, hammered into her, driving her so high she couldn’t bear it.

Hunt panted into her ear, “Look at the statue. That’s what I feel and see when I’m inside you.”

Alyssa took in the beauty Hunt created with his hands. She stared until he took her over the edge, then wild pleasure blinded her to everything but Hunt.

Alyssa flew in the arms of the man she was falling in love with.

…

Wearing just his boxers, Hunt reclined on one side of the couch with Lyssie’s feet in his lap. Every time he pressed his thumb into her arch, she moaned. He’d found another spot that made his girl hot. He loved discovering new details.

She leaned against the opposite side, filming the statue. “Hold it for me.”

Wrapping his hand around the statue, he eyed her in her bra and panties. “How about we trade? You hold the statue and I’ll video you.” Her hair was tousled, her skin still flushed and her eyes…damn.

“Nope. I don’t do underwear shots. Sorry. And believe me, I’ve had offers, including from
Playboy Magazine
.”

Hunt fumbled the statue, the image of Lyssie spread out, nude and posing…other men seeing her. “Oh hell no.” Curling his hand around her slender foot, he leaned forward. “I don’t share, cover girl.”

She lowered the camera. “How is it different? You’ve sculpted me nude. Would you show that?”

Hunt shifted his gaze to the sculpture. A part of him wanted to. Sharing the awakening beauty of Lyssie, the way she rose and stretched was more than sensual. It was a woman embracing her pain and power. Would he show it? He returned his attention to her. “I don’t feel the need to lock it up in the dark like I do my other work.”

Picking up her camera, she asked, “Why, Hunt? Why do you lock your studio, keep everyone out?”

He set the statue down and leaned back. “Interviewing me?”

“You sculpted me nude and you’re keeping it. I’m trusting you not to show that until I’m ready.”

“Point?”

“You revealed me right down to the dragon tear that is my way of carrying Eli with me. People saw the tat if I was in a swimsuit, but only you know the true significance of it and you put it in that statue. I trust you.” Moving her camera, she pinned her gaze on him. “I love that statue, love seeing me through your eyes. Let me do that for you. Talk to me. I have a lot of footage of you that I want to create into the story of you through my eyes. I want to give you that. No one else, just you.” She smiled and added, “Well, us, because like that statue of me is yours, I’m keeping a copy of this for me. A memory of us.”

He didn’t have it in him to resist her. Didn’t want to. Lyssie’s gentle fierceness melted the layers of ice in him until she made him burn and feel. Yeah, she trusted him with that statue, but it went deeper, like that moment when he’d been on his knees tasting her, savoring her, unable to get enough and she’d called to him. She’d been flying too high with nothing to hold on to, afraid she’d fall.