Exposing the Heiress (5 page)

“Not that intense.” Yeah, she should probably shut up now. Or disappear. Her face heated. “Don’t you dare make fun of me. I just haven’t had sex in a while, and you’re all—” She waved her hand at him in his shorts and T-shirt. “Former Marine, dark and sexy. It happens.”
Shut. Up. Please, just stop talking.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Any chance you could go away and let me drown myself in the pool?”

“Nope.” He took her hand. “Eyes on me, cover girl.”

Not like she had a choice. He’d sit there all day. She forced her eyes open. “Go ahead, make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for a lot of things, but not for telling me the truth about how you feel. Ever. Got it?”

Her humiliation eased. This was the Hunt she’d always known. He’d known she had a crush on him when she’d been a teenager, but he’d been gentle with her feelings then, too. “Maybe I won’t drown myself.”

One side of his mouth lifted. “I was the one that damn near kissed you. I’d say we’re even.”

“You really wanted to?”

“Too much. There’s something about you that shreds my control and believe me, that’s not easy to do. I was wrong to even think about it. You came to me for help, you need space and a friend. Not a man who will use you and walk away.”

Alyssa forgot her embarrassment at the hardness settling over him. Her heart twisted. What had happened to him? Was it the friends he’d lost? “Why, Hunt? You said you only have sex, not relationships. Why?”

His mouth tightened and he turned his gaze left.

Alyssa followed, taking in the studio. Once it had been open, full of light and laughter, music playing, with the smell of paint, turpentine and clay. Seeing it closed up tight and locked screamed
wrong
to her. “What do you sculpt that you need to keep locked up?”

He turned back. “What do you take pictures of?”

Did it matter if she told him? The sudden jack in her heart rate and her slick palms said it did—because his opinion mattered. Maybe he’d trust her if she told him. “Real people who overcome and survive. Not carefully crafted Hollywood stories, but real valor that is inspiring. At least to me.”

Interest flared in his eyes, shoving back those awful shadows. “More.”

Part of her wanted to tell him, but this was her love, her passion, the one thing that was truly hers. Nate and her stepfather had no interest. They were annoyed that she wasted her valuable time on a silly hobby. She had responsibilities, an obligation; after all, her mom had died and left Alyssa wealthy. Wasn’t she grateful?

Shutting off the voice in her head, she answered, “No, it’s your turn. What do you sculpt?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Her heart forgot to beat. Alyssa hated the isolation walling him off. He went into his studio at night and what? Last night, when she’d sat on the terrace, cold and alone, he’d pulled her into his arms. Right now she wanted to comfort him. She picked up his hand, cradling it to hers. Alyssa could feel the strength in his fingers, the power in his hand. “Once you sculpted slices of life.” Whatever caught his eye, but she’d bet her favorite camera that wasn’t what he was sculpting now. “What changed?”

“I was a sniper.”

Stunned, she sucked in a breath. “In the Marines?”

He nodded once. “I left when killing became too easy. When the line that separates the good guys from the bad started to blur.” Facing her he said, “That wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore.”

Her chest clenched. What would it take out of a man to do that kind of job? She gripped his hand when he tried to pull away. “Do you regret it?” His dream had been to be a Marine. Had it all turned to a nightmare?

“No. What I did saved countless lives. I’d make the same choice again.”

She tried to understand. He’d left because he didn’t want to be a sniper anymore. “But you wanted to come home, go back to being who you were… An artist?”

His mouth thinned. “There’s no going back. I did the job and live with the consequences. I don’t sculpt slices of life anymore.” He tugged his hand from hers and stood. “Death. I sculpt death. And I don’t want that to touch you ever.”

Oh God. Her heart ached for him as she watched him stride toward the studio, hurting and alone. Unable to bear it, Alyssa jumped up and ran after him. “Hunt, wait!”

He swung around, the sun catching the turmoil riding his eyes and straining the harsh lines of his face. His shoulders jacked beneath his T-shirt. “Stop. Don’t touch me.”

Freezing one foot away, she tilted her face up. “Why?”

His stare pierced through her, yet he stayed rigidly motionless. “One touch and I’m going to kiss you. Hard. Not like whatever the fuck you were doing with your ex. If I kiss you, you’re going to feel my hunger to have you naked, wet, and wild beneath me.” He sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth. “I don’t want some prissy-ass cover girl, Lyssie, I want you.”

This was Hunt uncensored. Not the young adult she remembered, but the damaged, lethal man. She could almost smell his lust, feel his need burning in the spotlight of his eyes. Hot shivers danced in her belly as gooseflesh erupted on her arms. The way he looked at her, seeing her exactly as she was, rolled over her common sense and shattered her reserve. She’d never had this—primitive untamed desire. Desperate to feel more of it, she laid her hand on the warm granite of his arm. “Kiss me. Don’t hold back.”

Her words hung there for two beats, then Hunt latched his arm around her waist, easily swept her up and spun, pressing her against the side of the art studio. His hard chest pinned hers, his rugged thigh slid between hers, while his gaze raked from her eyes and down to her mouth.

Her lips tingled in response.
From just his look.
She touched her mouth with her fingertips.

Hunt growled, his eyes heating. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged, then, with his stare locked on her, he brushed his lips over her fingers and sucked them in.

She couldn’t look away. Warm, wet lashes of his tongue bathed each digit. Every stroke arced straight to her nipples and core. She squeezed her thighs around his thick muscular leg. Her breasts swelled and ached, craving the same treatment from his tongue and lips. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and she was already on fire. “Hunt.”

Easing her fingers out, he laced their hands together and pressed her arm over her head. With his hand on her hip, he dragged her up his thigh.

Dear God. The friction on her clit made her gasp. Hot pleasure swirled in her belly.

Hunt leaned in. “Make that noise again, and I’m going to do more than kiss you.”

Nothing had ever been like this. Her entire world narrowed to the two of them. Flames licked at her spine and made her tremble. He hadn’t even kissed her, and she nearly wept with need. Shook with it. It took all she had not to rock her hips on this thigh. Somewhere deep in her mind she had an awareness that he was purposely showing her this side of himself, but if he meant to scare her, he’d miscalculated. Because for all the demanding intensity rolling off him, and the sexual heat burning between them, he’d linked his fingers with hers and softly stroked her wrist. She had no fear, just hunger and the need to meet his intensity with her own. “I want to taste you.” With her fingers in his hair, she tugged.

…

Hunt was screwed. No power on earth could make him deny her. With their hands joined over her head and his other holding her anchored to his thigh, Hunt took her mouth. Lyssie’s soft lips parted and he dove in. Her flavor flooded him; he tasted iced tea and lemon, along with that richer flavor that was all Lyssie.

Time ceased to mean anything as he explored her. He slowed his assault, wanting to savor her, to absorb the feel of Lyssie. She tightened her fingers in his hair and stroked her tongue against his. Every soft moan arrowed straight to his cock. It took all his self-control not to lift her higher, spread her legs and rock against her heat. But damn, the taste of this woman drove him to the edge of reason, and the feel of her nipples stiff against his chest, the way her thighs gripped his leg, told him she wanted more.

Oh he’d give her more…

Fuck. What was he doing?
She came to you for help and you’re all over her like a rash
. Regret and self-disgust slammed into him. Jerking his mouth back, he eased her to her feet.

Lyssie stared up at him with unfocused and confused eyes, her lips wet and swollen. Her skin was flushed all the way down her slender throat to her white stretch top that outlined her stiff nipples. His hands spasmed at his side. His muscles twitched. Hunt clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut.
Get control, asshole.
Less than a half hour ago, she’d been scared and upset by her ex’s text. Hunt brought her home to protect her and give her a place to feel safe. Not seduce her.

His guts churned. He shouldn’t have touched Lyssie. She’d told him clearly what she wanted—a family. Not a damaged man like him. She was scared and lost, and had known him since she was a kid. Trusted him.

“I… What happened?”

Snapping his eyes open, he took in her arms crossed in front of her breasts, the warm color draining from her face. Self-consciousness had her pulling in on herself. Furious that he’d done that to her, Hunt said, “I’m the jerk, Lyssie, not you. Get that look off your face.” He couldn’t stand her doubting herself.

Shame dimmed the fire in her. “I broke up with my fiancé two days ago, and then begged you to kiss me.”

Every protective instinct he had went hot. Forgetting his resolve not to touch her, Hunt opened his arms and softened his voice. “Come here.”

Without a second’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him.

That trust nearly undid him and he buried his face in her hair. “I didn’t stop because of that asshole. You owe him nothing, not your loyalty or your body, hear me?”

“Damn right.”

He smiled at her muffled determination muttered against his chest. That was his girl. “I’m not going to use you for sex. You’ll get hurt.”

She tilted her head back. “I wanted to kiss you, I just didn’t know it’d burn like that.”

God, her honesty, he loved that, but he had to end this now or he’d make her burn until she came and then do it again—and again. Then he’d leave her, hurting her and she’d never again trust him enough to walk right into his arms. Hunt needed to be the man she trusted, even for this short time.

“That’s why we’re not doing it again. That kind of lust gets out of control and you’ll end up scorched.”
Lying to yourself now?
It wasn’t just Lyssie that would get singed. There was something about this woman that was slipping beneath his skin and stirring the embers of a part of him he’d thought long dead. He shoved that away and firmed his voice. “I’m going to be your friend and protector.” He carefully set her aside, punched in the code on his art studio, and went inside. Shutting the door, he locked himself in the gloomy darkness and Lyssie out in the bright sunshine.

Where she belonged.

Chapter Six

Around four a.m. Hunt dragged himself into the house. The nightmare had been rough, but trying to expel it into clay and feeling it all had left him empty and tight. His head and muscles ached, and he dropped down on the couch, picking up the remote. Finding a movie, he turned it on low, then settled back. He kicked his bare feet up and willed his body to relax.

He heard her door open. The colorful light from the TV revealed Lyssie shuffling out, wearing a tank and PJ pants, her eyes sleepy, a line creasing her cheek from her pillow. She navigated between the corner sofa and coffee table to stare down at him.

Oh hell no. He couldn’t do this now. For three excruciating days and nights, he’d kept his hands off her. “Go back to bed. You don’t want to be out here right now.”

She tilted her head. “That’s not the deal. Only the studio is off-limits.” She settled on the couch next to him.

Her warmth flowed over his skin, her scent climbing down his throat. Then she reached out, taking his hand and threading their fingers. Helplessly, he looked down at the smaller hand twined with his. Something in this throat, the tight loneliness that dogged him after sculpting out his nightmares, unlocked. “What are you doing?”

Her brown eyes filled with softness. “Being your friend. Most nights, you go back into your room. Probably watch Netflix on your iPad or read, I don’t know, except I know you don’t sleep for a while. But tonight, you’re out here so I’ll keep you company.”

The feel of her hand in his warmed his veins, made him want too many things he couldn’t have. “You need to sleep.” Lyssie had been busy in Skype meetings with her accountants and lawyers. Controlling her wealth was complex, plus she still owned half of Dragon Wing, and then she ran several charities with her assistant Maxine. On top of that she had her secret project…something to do with her pictures. All this and the stress that asshole Madden’s threats put on her were exhausting. He was tempted to pick her up and dump her in her bed—but he’d never walk out.

“I can multitask.” Gripping his hand in both of hers, she curled up next to him, laying her head against his shoulder. “Unless you really want to be alone?”

He should. Jesus, he should send her back to her room. Did she know what a temptation she was to him with her full mouth, sleepy eyes and too-generous heart? How goddamned sexy she looked, or the way her hair sliding over his arm sent wake-up messages to his cock?

It’d be so much easier if their attraction was only physical. That he knew how to deal with. He’d give them both what they wanted until they were satisfied. But this? Fuck. Lyssie had come to him, turned to him when she’d been scared and desperate. That’s who he wanted to be. Sex would destroy that and them, because eventually, she’d learn who and what he really was. Then she’d look at him with horror and turn away.

“Hunt?”

Do it. Tell her to go back to bed. Or get up and walk away from her.
But he wasn’t that strong. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, settling her against his chest. He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and covered her. “Stay.”

An hour later, Hunt laid her in her bed. Lyssie was sound asleep and so damned beautiful, she took his breath away. Every cell in his body cried out to slide into that bed with her, kiss her awake. His heart pounded and stomach muscles contracted sharply. Need clawed him.

But he walked out and quietly closed her door.

…

“Hey, there you are.”

Alyssa jerked, almost falling off the barstool.

Hunt caught her arm. “Whoa, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Dang.” Slapping a hand against her chest, she sucked in air. He was fresh from his shower after his morning run and workout. They both loved running, but she kept to her isolated runs, and Hunt never pushed to join her.

This morning, she’d run twice her normal miles, trying to beat her growing desire into submission, the ache that woke her in the nights and stole her thoughts in the day. Hunt set the ground rules: friends only. She had to respect that, but then she’d come out here early this morning and found him sitting on the couch, so alone her heart cracked. She’d needed to touch him, and he’d let her by pulling her into his arms, wrapping the throw blanket around her and stroking her hair. She’d fallen asleep like that, with his heart beating against her skin.

Now she was awake. Every nerve ending lighting up, her mouth drying as Hunt’s soap and clay scent filled her lungs. The memory of his arms around her ignited her longing, her lips tingled with the echoes of that kiss four days ago. In less than a week with Hunt, she felt more alive and real than she had in the last seven years.

Say something!
She lifted her gaze to his blue eyes and her chest pinged like she was fourteen years old again. He hadn’t let go of her upper arm, just loosened his hold, and rubbed his thumb over her skin. Tingles spread from that tiny touch. “Why were you looking for me?”

He finally released her arm and leaned against the counter. “I have some updates.”

Anxiety chased out her desire. “What?”

Hunt’s eyes flattened. “Cooper Sims said your house is clean of bugs and cameras and he even had a mechanic go over your car. He’s changed all the locks and upgraded your security system.”

Wow, that was thorough. “So you don’t think anyone was in my house?”

Hunt’s jaw bulged. “Depends. What did you do with your engagement ring when you broke up with Madden?”

“Gave it back.” She mentally retraced her steps. “I set it on the desk outside Nate’s office. He saw me. Why?”

Hunt pulled out his phone and held it up.

As soon as she saw the picture, shock twanged in her head. Her huge single-cut diamond ring in the platinum setting sat on a black cloth spread on her gold bedspread. “He had someone get into my house and leave the ring on my bed.”

Hunt rubbed her arm. “That’s a stalker move, Lyssie. He’s showing you he can get into your bedroom anytime he wants, even when he’s out of the country. It’s not Parker doing it for him. We’re having him watched. Besides, the guards at the entrance would recognize him.”

“Probably.” She looked up. “Nate’s having me watched, isn’t he?”

“I believe so, and for a long time.” He put his phone away. “Nate appeared obsessed with you when he worked at Clout Law Group.”

She tried to process it. “I hadn’t even met him then. Parker introduced Nate to me after he hired him.” It felt like she was spinning in a whirlpool.

“You’re a powerful woman who’s on TV all the time. Cooper, Sienna, and I think he targeted you and worked through Parker to get to you. That he’s been watching you for a while, and had people inside Dragon Wing that were gathering information for him. That’s how he figured out how to approach and win you over.” He took a breath. “Do you trust your assistant, Maxine?”

“Yes. 100 percent.”

Leaning an arm on the counter, he studied her. “Why?”

“I fired two assistants, Noreen Atkins for taking pictures of me and posting them on social media, and then Shea Foley for going through my things. That’s when I offered Maxine the job. She and Nate hate each other. Seriously hate each other.”

“Could be an act.”

“Maxine befriended me in college. She’s the one who forced me to start driving again.”

Surprise flashed over his face. “You stopped driving?”

“After the accident I was scared, terrified. I relied on drivers, but Maxine was having none of that and made me do it. She pushed me to be independent. She knows who I am, but she’s never asked me for anything. She’s my friend.” Alyssa held up a hand. “Before you ask, I never told her about Eli. I met her after I gave him up.”

“Okay.” Hunt met her stare. “There’s more.”

Her heart ballooned in her chest at the seriousness of his tone. “What happened?”

“About four a.m. this morning, Griff caught a guy tampering with Eli’s family SUV in the driveway. Griff detained him, the police were called.” Hunt reached for her hand. “The brake lines were cut.”

The horror of it gripped her throat as memories of the car sliding out of control, spinning wildly, slamming into the tree and the crunching metal all came back to her.

“Lyssie.” Hunt wrapped his hands around hers. “Look at me.”

His command gave her a focus, a way out of her memories. His face, cut harder from years of living a life she couldn’t even fathom, eased her sick fear. “Nate did it. He somehow did this.”

“Did he know you didn’t drive for a while after the accident?”

She nodded. Alyssa had told Nate, tried to make him understand how good a friend Maxine was to her. “He would hurt them. Eli and his family have done nothing to him, yet he’d hurt them. What kind of monster does something like that?” And she’d been engaged to him. “Wait, Griff caught the guy?”

“Yes. Police came, he was arrested, but it’s going to take time to see if we can connect him to Madden, although I doubt it’s going to be easy. Madden clearly isn’t stupid, so I’m sure he’s covered his tracks.” He squeezed her fingers. “The good news is Madden will know that we have Eli protected and he can’t get to him. Griff has an entire team watching the family, including while they sleep.”

She had to know. “Was Eli scared?”

“He never woke up and doesn’t know what happened. His parents have told him the guys are following the family around for a special work project his father is working on. According to Griff, Eli accepts that and thinks it’s cool.”

A painful mix of relief, happiness, and pain so deep it scared her, twisted in her chest. Everything in her wished she could have been strong enough to be the parent Eli had needed, but she hadn’t been, not then. The old grief, the pain she’d refused to let out rose up to choke her. She had the urge to throw herself into Hunt’s arms now, and beg him to hold her. But then she’d break. Not happening. Instead she slipped her hands from his and pulled herself together. “So what do we do now?”

He eyed her. “Are you okay?”

“Pissed. Furious. But I’ll be fine.” She would be, she just had to pull herself together. Shutting her laptop, she grabbed her coffee cup and headed around the island to the coffeemaker. There she stared at the carafe. “What do we do next?”

“Let us investigate. Sienna’s requested the reports on Madden’s mom’s death. She should have those soon. We’ll work to find out who hired the guy arrested this morning.”

Alyssa nodded, staring at the coffeemaker.

“But right now—”

She jumped, the coffee cup clanking on the countertop. He was right behind her. So close, his breath stirred her hair. How did he move so quietly?

Reaching around her, he shut off the coffeemaker.

His arm brushed hers, his chest pressing against her back. Solid warmth. She desperately wanted to lean back against him.

“—we need a break.”

She recoiled slightly. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “From each other?”

“From the stress. We’ve been cooped up here for days. Let’s go have some fun. So far, no one knows you’re here, so it should be safe as long as you do as I say.”

“Really?” Excitement chased out the thick worry and dread. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” Turning her to face him, he glanced down at her dress, his eyes regretful. “You’ll have to put on more clothes. Jeans and either athletic shoes or boots. I have a jacket and helmet you can use. Bring your camera too.”

Anticipation buzzed her veins. “You still have your motorcycle?” She used to beg him to take her on his motorcycle. Her mother had said no, though, so Hunt refused, although she’d taken a million pictures of him on it.

Humor glinted in his light eyes. “I have a different bike than you remember, this one is faster.” He flashed her a grin, stripping away the years that had passed between them. She wasn’t the infamous Alyssa Brooks trying to fill her dead mother’s shoes, and Hunt wasn’t a Marine veteran carrying internal wounds he vented in his art. They were Hunt and Lyssie, ready to ride.

…

Hunt loved the speed and freedom of riding, the sensation of going fast enough to outrun the consequences of his choices.

Total illusion. He couldn’t outrun a bullet, not even on a bike this fast. He knew exactly how to calculate the speed of the bike against the distance between him and his target to make the shot. But right now, with Lyssie pressed against his back, her thighs around his hips, and the wind in their faces, he felt boundless as if anything were possible again. Even with her as just a friend felt pretty damn good. He’d known suggesting a bike ride would wipe that tight tension off her face and make her smile. Much better than when she’d pulled her hands from his when she’d been upset.

He wanted her to walk into his arms, not pull away.

After an hour of riding, he slowed near the shack surrounded by other bikes and a few cars. This place was way off the beaten path, mostly known to locals. He doubted anyone would recognize Lyssie. She had her hair tightly braided, no makeup on, and wore one of his leather jackets. She looked like his Lyssie, not the glamorous Alyssa Brooks. Since no one knew she was here, she should be safe. He was armed and prepared just in case.

As he stopped the bike and killed the engine, the scent of tacos filled the air. “Still up for doing this?” Rough wood picnic tables spread out along the sloping dirt at the side of the taco stand.

“Yes, is this like a biker hangout?” Holding on to his shoulders, she swung her long leg off the bike and peered down at him.

He missed her against his back and her arms wrapped around him the second she was gone. Putting the bike on the kickstand, he got off, removed his helmet and retrieved her camera bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Locals who know about it, mostly bikers and a few hikers. Some tourists find it too.”

She studied the flat-roofed shack with the large ordering window below the handwritten menu. A scraggly line of about seven bearded men and one woman all wearing biker gear waited their turn. Out at the tables, a few more attacked their food. “It’s remote. I mean, I hear the ocean hitting the rocks, but can’t see the shoreline from here. This isn’t where you open a taco stand to get rich.”