Taking Him (Lies We Tell) (11 page)

Hunter said nothing but she felt him go rigid with tension.

Oh bloody hell, the rules. She was talking. She was asking questions. And more importantly, she was touching him.

Ellie lifted her hand from his and opened her legs to free him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll be good, I promise. I…I need you to see that you don’t have to protect me.”

There was a long silence. He removed his hand from her but didn’t move away.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, sweetness,” he said at last. “Nothing about sex with me will be easy.”

Well, she’d kind of guessed that already. “If I wanted easy, I would have stayed with Cam.”

“You should have.”

“I couldn’t. It wasn’t fair on him.” She took a small breath. “I used to cheat on Cam with you. In my head. I used to imagine it was you touching me. You inside me. It was wrong but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you so badly.”

Another long silence, her whole focus narrowing down on the man who still knelt between her thighs. The warmth of him so close and yet so agonisingly far.

“Show me,” he said at last. “Show me what you did when you imagined me touching you.”

A wave of prickling heat whispered over her skin. She’d never done this before, touched herself in front of another person while they watched. But this wasn’t just any person. This was Hunter, and that made it different. Made it safe.

She lifted her hand and slid her fingers underneath the black lace of her underwear, touching the slick flesh between her thighs. Gently she eased a finger over her aching clit, gasping as the sensation struck sparks through her body. She arched back in the chair, stroking herself, pleasure pulling tight inside her.

And then strong fingers circled her wrist. Ellie whimpered in protest but even as one hand pulled hers away, another touched her, pushing aside the wet lace to touch her sex. Spreading her open, stroking her. She groaned as a finger pushed gently inside her, then another.

Her head fell back, her hips lifting. White light burst behind her eyes as his fingers slid in deep then out again. Oh God…this was too much. Too intense. Would it be like this every time he touched her? She’d fall apart.

“Don’t speak,” Hunter whispered, keeping up the gentle movement of his hand. “Don’t move.”

She began to shudder then gasped as she felt him cover one breast with his palm. He pinched her nipple, at first softly, then harder, the pleasure sharp and bright as a shard of glass.

A light pressure on her clit at first, growing more firm, his thumb stroking, circling. Ellie groaned, unable to keep quiet. Unable to keep still.

“Ellie,” he said and the darkness in his voice, the quiet dominance of it, spoke to something inside her. Calling something from her.

She cried out, the climax crashing over her so suddenly and unexpectedly she couldn’t do anything but shake, sobs gathering in her throat.

Hunter’s fingers slipped out of her, the withdrawal making her nearly forget the rules and reach for him.

Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.

He didn’t, his hand coming to rest on her thigh. Stroking in a lazy, unhurried movement.

“Can I open my eyes?” she asked, a thousand cracks running through her voice.

“Not yet, sweetness.”

“I want to. I want to see you.”

“No.” And then, quieter. “I did warn you this wouldn’t be easy.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry, her heartbeat still out of control. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Aren’t you going to…?” Unaccustomed shyness gripped her and she could feel herself blushing like an idiot. “Uh…have sex with me? Or something?”

“No,” he said again.

“No? Just like that? No?”

“Yeah, just like that.”

“But…but why? I thought…I thought you wanted me.”

“I told you no questions.”

“Hunter.”

She heard him shift. “I’m not having sex with you and I’m not discussing it. That’s the way it is, sweetness.”

“Is this some kind of weird protective thing again? Are you—” The pressure of his finger on her mouth, stopping the words in her throat.

“Shut up, Ellie,” he said softly, without heat. His breath whispered beside her ear, the warmth of it chasing across her skin. “And stop pushing me.” His finger fell away.

“But it’s not only about me, Hunter.” It had to be said. “It’s about you too. I don’t want to just take.”

“No, that’s my job, and believe me, I’ve taken, sweetheart. But I’m not taking anymore today.”

She heard him shift again and felt cold suddenly as he moved away. Like he was taking all the heat with him. “You didn’t come,” she said starkly. “You didn’t get off.”

“I got what I wanted. And so did you. That’s enough.”

She stared into the space where she thought he was standing. Stared into the blackness behind her closed lids. “I don’t understand. How can it be for you?”

He didn’t reply. And it was only when the silence lengthened for far longer than it should have that she realised she was alone.

Hunter walked down the hallway then swiftly up the stairs to his bedroom. The only thought in his head was to get away. Away from the woman sitting in his office. Away from the desire hammering in his skull and turning his body inside out.

Yeah, he’d promised her he wouldn’t walk out on her like that, but shit, he couldn’t stay.

He’d embraced the choice to see her as a woman, treat her as a woman. Touch her in the way he wanted to, the way she wanted him to. But he hadn’t fully thought through the consequences. Hadn’t realised quite how desperate he’d be after hearing her name her fantasies about him, after watching her touch herself like that, after touching her.

She’d felt hot and wet and tight around his fingers. The scent of her arousal. The weight of her breast in his hand. The sounds she’d made…

Hunter closed his eyes, having to stop and take a deep breath to get himself under control.

On occasion, if he needed the power trip, he’d get himself off with the woman in the room, making sure she had her eyes closed or was blindfolded. But to do the same with Ellie felt wrong.

She wasn’t a stranger he’d never have to see again. An unknown woman he’d objectified for his own private pleasure. She was someone he knew. Someone who knew him.

And that had made him feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been since he was sixteen years old. A way that almost made him…afraid.

He cursed under his breath. A shower, that’s what he needed. Some privacy to take himself in hand. Christ, he was so goddamned hard it hurt.

Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it up over his head and threw it on the bed.

And became conscious that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t turn. He knew who it was. “Go away, Ellie.”

“No. You promised me you wouldn’t walk away.”

“Yeah, well, I lied.”

Soft footsteps behind him. “I wanted to know what you meant when you said you were taking. Especially considering I was the one getting the orgasm.”

How could he explain his own particular brand of selfishness? The kick he got from the power of denial? “An orgasm you had on my terms.”

“So? I didn’t care. I liked your terms.”

“But not enough to stop asking me questions.”

He didn’t realise how close she was until her arms wrapped round his hips and her body pressed up against the bare skin of his back. He froze, going rigid at the unexpected touch. The urge to pull her away violently rose but he fought it. He’d laid hands on her in a fit of violent instinct twice now—there wouldn’t be a third time. He liked to think he was better than that.

Ellie’s arms tightened and he could feel the press of her cheek against his spine.

He tried to breathe, a gut-deep, inexplicable fear turning over and shaking itself like a lazy dog inside him. He didn’t want to tell her to let him go, didn’t want to draw attention to it yet again. But in the end, he didn’t have to.

“Hunter,” Ellie whispered softly against his back. “I know you don’t want me to touch you. I know that for some reason it’s difficult. And I promise I won’t ask questions or demand reasons from you. But I want you to know that you didn’t take anything from me. You gave instead. So now it’s my turn to give.”

His jaw ached he held himself so still. Afraid he’d react like he had before. Throw her off. Hurt her. And yet at the same time, he burned. Her touch igniting the fire inside him. A fire that would never go out. How was this possible? To want so much and yet to have this crawling kind of dread sliding through him?

Ellie’s hands slowly spread out over his stomach and rested there.

He shut his eyes, his breathing fast. She needed to stop. Let go, leave him the fuck alone. But as he opened his mouth to tell her, he realised something else was happening to him.

The heat of her body had begun to sink into him, spreading out, warming him up. She smelled familiar, delicate flowers and musk, reminding him of a time when she’d been the one bright spot in a dark and confusing world. The one thing that had made sense to him. His reason for getting up in the morning.

Her thumbs moved on his bare skin, a soothing touch, and his knotted muscles began to relax. He could feel her breath on his skin, and that too, for some reason, was soothing.

For a long minute neither of them moved or said anything. And gradually, his awareness of her began to narrow, became acute. Awareness of where her hands were on his skin. The soft press of her breasts against his spine. The constricting feel of the denim of his jeans against his groin.

Jesus Christ. He hadn’t been touched like this for years. Not since Liz. And now…now it felt like he wanted more. God, how did that work? When for so long he’d hated anyone touching him?

It’s because it’s her.

The thought occurred to him at the same time as the hands on his stomach began to move. Down. Sliding over his abs to the waistband of his jeans.

“Ellie,” he said roughly, putting his hands over hers, trapping them before they could move any lower. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I told you. I want to give you something.”

“I said no touching.”

“So stop me then.” Her voice was a whisper against his back and her hands moved out from under his, her palm covering the hard ridge of his cock.

All the breath left his body, the heat of her touch burning everything to the ground. The fear and the crawling dread. The sick guilt. The shame. He felt the blood catch fire in his veins, his heart beating hard in his chest. Desire flooded in like a tide, inexorable. Unstoppable.

Oh God…

Ellie lightly stroked her fingers along the length of him outside the denim, only touching, demanding nothing. A shudder ripped through him.

He should be hating this. He should be pushing her away. And yet he wasn’t.

Choose it. Embrace it.

Hunter didn’t bother with thinking anymore. Jerking open the buttons of his fly, he pushed her hand beneath the denim. A raw, harsh word escaped him as her cool fingers slid into his boxers, circling his aching cock. Holding him. Squeezing him.

Bright bursts of light went off behind his closed lids.

Her body was like a hot coal burning the length of his spine and he could feel her breath on his skin, almost as fast as his. Her thumb circled then stroked over the head of his cock and he couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him. “Ah…fuck…Ellie…”

She didn’t say anything, her hand moving on him, harder, faster. Making everything fall away. Making everything narrow down to this point of contact. Her hand on him. Holding him. Driving him insane.

It didn’t take long. He’d been on the edge already and now her touch took him over it.

The climax was intense, brutal, wrenching him apart, and afterwards it was all he could do to remain upright, let alone speak. Ellie didn’t move, remaining behind him, her arms still tight around him. And suddenly it was too much, the physical sensations crashing around inside him, the emotions blinding him. With as much gentleness as he could, he pulled her away from him. Then stalked into the bathroom before she could speak.

The door shut conclusively behind Hunter, and Ellie, her throat tight, stood in the middle of his bedroom not quite sure what to do next. She wanted desperately to go after him. Talk to him. Ask him what it meant that he’d let her touch him. Because she was quite sure it meant something. When she’d put her arms around him his whole body had gone rigid, tension humming in him like electricity through power lines, and perhaps she should have let him go at that point. But she hadn’t been able to.

After he’d left the office, she decided that she wasn’t going to let him walk out on her anymore. Not after he promised he wouldn’t. Not without at least a proper explanation for why. So she’d followed him upstairs only to be confronted by the expanse of his naked back and the wings inked on it.

Her heart had grown so large, tightening in her chest, the need to touch him filling her up, displacing all the air in her lungs so she could hardly breathe. The sight of his tattoo had always touched something in her, and with the afterglow of the orgasm he’d given her still whispering over her skin, she hadn’t been able to resist the pull.