Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) (21 page)

There’d been many times in the past Noah had come along asking for a little money to hold him over . . . finance a “brilliant idea.” It was easy to hand over money when you had it. Eventually, however, Hunter knew he wasn’t doing the right thing.

He stopped being his brother’s bank and subsequent doormat and shut him out. Less than three months later Noah had opened a line of credit using Hunter’s name . . . drained over a hundred grand before Hunter learned of his brother’s deception. After, Hunter stopped all communication, and his bookkeepers kept a close eye on all credit inquiries.

Hunter’s reward for tough love . . . a child he didn’t father. Payback is a bitch.

Gabi lifted a hand to her lips and spoke through it. “You’re going to keep the child.”

“A move neither of them are expecting.”

Gabi dropped her hand in her lap, her jaw tightened. “This isn’t a game of chess. We’re talking about a child, Hunter.”

The hair on his neck stood on end. “A child being used as a pawn by his own parents. What kind of life will he have? My mother forced my father into marriage with her pregnancy. She left the first time in third grade, only to return and play the back-and-forth game until high school. My brother knows I won’t support him, so he’s devised a plan to support his child. Only Noah thinks I’m going to do it by handing him money to avoid being the child’s father.” He couldn’t sit any longer and crossed to the windows and the lights of the city below. He never spoke of his mother. Most people thought she was dead. To him, she was. After Noah’s game, his brother would be dead to him, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your sympathy.”

“Well that’s too bad. Abandonment from a parent isn’t easy at any age. My father died and I still felt cheated. If he had chosen to leave and never returned, it’d be an unfathomable betrayal. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me all of this before now.”

“Before our marriage?”

“Yes.”

“Would you have believed me?” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

With a small shake of the head, she said, “No. Probably not.”

“Then you have your answer.” The lack of friends and loyalty kept him from opening up and expecting people to do the right thing. He returned his stare to the skyline.

“You’re a very impatient man . . . do you know that?”

“I don’t like to waste time.”

“Which makes you impulsive, makes you force marriage on unsuspecting women.”

How could he respond to that? Luckily, she continued talking and kept him from having to.

“Do you have any idea how you’re going to bring this child into your life? What it takes to be a father?”

Up until Gabriella had landed in his life, he’d thought of nothing but that. “No more than any man who’s been told they have a child.”

“You’re really going to do this. Take on your brother’s child as your own.”

“Hayden doesn’t deserve a life with parents that only had him to make money off his DNA. I’m not delusional, I know it won’t be easy.”

“And you’re willing . . .”

The image, the one he had of the boy, swam in his head. Hunter turned to look at Gabi. She was sitting forward in her chair, her feet planted on the floor as if she were ready to bolt from the room. “He isn’t yet ten months old. The babysitter, day care . . . whatever you wanna call it, doesn’t differ much from an orphanage. Sheila retrieves him on occasion, but she’s been spending most of her time with Noah, and Noah isn’t father material. He can’t care for himself, let alone another human being.”

“So how do I fit into this picture?”

“I have a team of lawyers, as well as private investigators, working on deeming Sheila incompetent as a parent. As a stable, married man, it’s not only easy to avoid Sheila claiming I agreed to marry her, but the court will use the evidence, and my current stable state, to grant me custody. My guess is, she will vacate the scene with a little money and time.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Hunter was betting she would. “I’ll cross that road when I come to it.”

“And Noah?” she asked.

“He will get nothing. If I caved to any of his demands now, what is to stop him from doing it again?”

“Nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you have a picture . . . of Hayden?”

Hunter removed his wallet from his pocket as Gabi walked toward him.

A mop of dark hair sat on top of a chubby face, the child’s fist was in his mouth, drool ran down his chin.

Gabi lifted her hand to the picture and placed a fingertip to the image. “He’s adorable.”

Yeah . . . the thought hit Hunter the first time he’d seen the kid. “Innocent.”

On a sigh, Hunter returned the picture to his wallet and tucked it into his pocket.

“What am I going to do with you?” Gabi whispered.

Hunter looked into her eyes, saw a hint of moisture hiding behind the dark depths of them.

“You’d be wise to keep your distance.”

Instead of distance, she closed the minimal space between them and placed a hand on his chest. “One minute you’re impersonating the greatest bastard out there . . . the next you’re rescuing babies from bad parents.”

“I’m not a hero, Gabi. Nowhere close.”

“No,” she agreed. “You’re not a saint. Your tactics are ruthless, tasteless, and seemingly without conscience. You’re impatient, greedy, and egotistical.”

He frowned.

“You’re cynical, downright nasty—”

He placed a hand to his chest. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m not done!” She batted his hand away from his chest and smiled. “You’re driven, which isn’t a bad thing. You’re influential and a little brilliant. I mean, c’mon . . . how many men at thirty-six make the Forbes billionaire bachelor list without family money?”

Some of his frown lifted.

“You fear honesty, but who doesn’t? It’s hard to reveal truths about yourself when you don’t know if the person you’re talking to is going to use it against you. It’s hard to trust when your own twin is screwing you over.”

He lifted a hand to her shoulder and held on. “I’m not—”

“I’m
not
finished.”

He sighed with a smile.

“You’re sexy, and the women in your life would have been fools to not try and capture whatever attention they could from you.”

Yeah, he was working out the muscles in his face with his grin.

“You’ve probably broken hearts from LA to New York to Europe. God help you if more than one woman arrives with a child in their hands that you can’t avoid.”

“I’ve always been safe.”

Gabi placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.

“And while you’re impatient with many mergers and acquisitions . . . and marriages . . . you’ve shown amazing restraint with your nephew and your wife.” She paused, her smile faded. “And that . . . Hunter Hayden Blackwell . . . is what is placing your feet on the road to hero.”

His hand gripped her shoulder. The trust in her eyes too powerful for words. “My restraint for you is a tightly strung string on a violin. One stroke and it’s going to snap.”

Her delicate fingers rode up his chest and wove around his neck. “God, I hope so.” She brought his head closer to hers, and kissed him.

The Stradivarius shattered.

Chapter Twenty

He was stunned, Gabi felt it in his kiss.

His hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second before he wrapped her into his strong arms and threw his weight into the meeting of their lips. So many sensations hit her at once. He tasted like whiskey, smelled like sin, and kissed her like a devil guaranteed to break her heart. There was no letting go, however. After lying dormant for so long, having a man as powerful as Hunter Blackwell devouring her wasn’t something she wanted to resist.

Not any longer.

She opened to the swipe of his tongue and lifted on her tiptoes to
taste. There were no careful, languishing movements . . . both of them
were much too anxious to feel the next zip of pleasure. Hunter ran a
hand down the length of her back and back up to catch in her hair.

He released her lips to say, “Let this down. I want to see you with it down.”

She opened her eyes to see his hooded gaze.

With both hands, she released the clip and comb holding her hair. It cascaded over her shoulders in a wave.

Hunter growled and pushed both hands into it, his eyes focused on his own hands as they ran through the silky length. With both hands holding her face, he finally met her eyes. “I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.”

She didn’t have time to respond, not that she knew what to say after his confession. He dragged his lips across hers in what felt like desperation.

When Gabi let one hand fall to his hip, the other to his ass, Hunter pressed her against the massive window and gathered her hands in his. He lifted them above her head and leaned into her, from shoulder to knee. It was as if he was controlling his own ability to slow this down by keeping her from touching him.

It was frustrating, and erotic.

Though they were both still fully clothed, the extent of his desire pressed low on her belly, close, but not close enough.

Hunter continued kissing her, hot, urgent kisses that left her utterly breathless.

With her hands inoperable, Gabi ran one leg up his.

He tore his lips away. “If you keep touching me, I’m going to make love to you right here, with all of Dallas watching.”

She swiveled her head and attempted to catch the lights behind her. She wasn’t quite ready for that leap into exhibitionism. “Then I suggest we find a proper bed.”

One of his hands loosened on hers and his free palm held her cheek. “Are you sure, Gabriella?”

Is there any question?

He was giving her an out . . . an out she no longer wanted.

“Your bed, or mine?” she asked with a smile.

One minute she was bound to the window, the next she was in his arms. “Mine’s closer.”

He tossed back the down comforter and laid her on the white sheets.

Gabi welcomed him back into her arms and continued the kiss he’d kept from her for over a week.

The weight of him, his strength, made her dizzy. Or maybe it was the lack of air. Gabi lifted her chin, forcing his attention to her neck.

She tugged his shirt from his slacks. Removing his shirt wasn’t possible without space between them. And right at that moment Hunter was using the tip of his tongue to explore the space behind her ear.

When her fingertips met with skin, she let her nails drag.

Hunter lost his concentration and moaned.

With her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “I love when you lose control.”

“Grrr.”

She giggled, let her fingers slip into his pants.

His sought out the bottom of her dress. The feel of his fingers riding over the edge of her stockings made her smile.

He froze, and half lifted from her heated frame. He gathered the edge of her dress and lifted it higher on her thigh.

She knew the moment his eyes feasted on her garter. “Christ, Gabi. What are you wearing?”

“If you have to ask . . .” she let her words fade as she took in his reaction to the lingerie.

He ran a hand under the clasp, left it in place, and continued to explore her. “You’re like Christmas.”

Heated from his touch, his words, his eyes, she said, “It’s time to remove some of the wrapping.”

She sat up and reached behind her back. The zipper of her dress wasn’t an easy catch, so Hunter took over.

She heard the gentle slide, felt his fingers lightly brush her skin as cool air met her flesh. Sitting still, she didn’t fidget when Hunter took his time removing the dress from her shoulders.

Only when the dress pooled around her waist did Hunter stop staring and lean forward to touch. He lingered on her shoulder, trailed his lips to the tops of her breasts, still bound in her black lace bra. He was attempting to remove her dress, and she tugged at his shirt. They both met the floor at the same time.

Gabi knew Hunter filled out a suit, but under was the real view. A view she’d thought a lot about since she’d first seen it on the beach on her brother’s island.

With the liberty to touch, she did. Everything about the man was confident and strong.

Hunter left the bed for the two seconds it took to shed his pants. He tossed his wallet on the nightstand and returned in only his boxers.

He ran his hands over her breasts, cupped them before moving to the back to unclasp her bra. “Christmas and birthdays,” he mumbled as he tossed her clothing away.

Her breasts were heavy in need of his touch.

She didn’t have to ask. Hunter replaced his hands with his mouth. Had she ever felt so completely ready to accept a man into her body? Was there a time she felt this cherished?

Cherished was probably the wrong word, but it was the only one that continued to scroll in her head. Hunter was making love to her . . . not simply trying to get inside. Pushing away any doubt of his intentions, she leaned back against the pillows and drowned in the feel of him.

He took his time, until she was raw and squirming. He’d yet to touch her most needy parts, and they screamed for his attention. He moved down her waist, kissed the edge of her hip.

When she lifted her hips, she heard him laugh.

“Now it’s me who’s dying,” she told him.

He lifted one of her legs until it was bent at the knee, and he knelt between them.

The first clasp snapped, catching her by surprise. The second was expected.

He rolled the stocking down and turned to her other leg. Once they were both gone, he led his fingers on a slow dance up her calves, her thigh, and stared everywhere he touched. When she was certain he was going to relieve some of the monstrous tension in her body, his hands bypassed her core, took the edge of the garter, and pulled it off.

Her breath caught when he removed the final layer. She’d never been this exposed to a man, but instead of feeling embarrassed, the word
treasured
popped in her head. “Please,” she mumbled.

Hunter’s eyes shot to hers with such lust . . . such passion, her heart skipped in her chest. “I don’t deserve you.”

It frightened her to think he’d stop. “You’ve taken me this far, Hunter. It would be cruel to leave me like—”

With his eyes locked to hers, he let his hands find the top edge of her inner thighs. “I passed turning back before we entered the room, Gabriella.”

He lowered his head. The first touch was with the swipe of his tongue.

Gabi cried out, clenching the sheets with her fists.

He didn’t need to be told where to touch, what to taste . . . he was simply there, completely consumed with her in two breaths. “Oh, Hunter.”

It had been so long . . . too damn long. The strings on her violin were drawing tight too quickly. Her hips lifted from the bed and she shattered.

Literal stars shot as her orgasm ran over her.

Hunter didn’t ease away, he shifted, his boxers found the rest of the clothing on the floor, and Gabi heard the tearing of a wrapper.

She captured his hand as he rolled the condom on, smiled. The impressive anatomy with his clothing on was just as extraordinary without it.

She opened herself up to him. Wrapped her arms around his neck. The feel of him nudging her had her smiling.

“Last chance, Gabi.”

“I thought we passed turning back,” she said with a grin.

He growled, tilted her hips, and offered a sample. “You’re right.” He gave her everything. “We did.”

Yes.

He filled her, every empty space was now branded with his scent, his touch.

Hunter pulled her into his arms, his lips once again took possession of hers, and he slowly started to move. Gabi’s buildup was slower this time. And Hunter didn’t rush.

He muttered about her beauty, said more than once he didn’t deserve her, told her how amazing she felt.

Their pace sped up until kissing wasn’t possible and all their attention was on the spot they were so intimately joined.

Her nails pulled him closer, the edge of completion only a hair out of reach. Just when she thought she was going to lose it, Hunter whispered, “Come for me.”

She did. And the feeling rolled and rolled, then shot past both of them.

Hunter soon followed with a growl she was all too familiar with.

Remington hadn’t slept on the plane, and the sun in Rome was entirely too bright.

He exited the airport and found his way to the taxi station, grateful to be out of Colombia. The place had eyes, and he couldn’t help but wonder who, exactly, had been watching him. Other than the kids lifting his phone, he hadn’t been mugged or even propositioned.

The only promising lead on the Picano accounts was the two so-called bankers. After he left them, Remington’s information dried up.

Once he was settled in a cheap motel . . . or what would be equivalent to an American dive, Remington dialed Blackwell. It was the middle of the night in the States, so when voice mail picked up, he relayed the important details. “Ahhh, Rome. Such a big city. Colombia was a bust. If I knew better, I’d swear whoever had their hands in that account had a reach far outside those boarders. Lips were closed up tighter than my first wife. Anyway, my cell is back on, same number. If you tried to call earlier . . . sucks to be you. Damn kids,” he muttered. “I’m posing as your hot tamale’s personal agent. Vouch for me. These Italians aren’t as quick to talk, which leaves me wondering how far I’m going to get. I might need to pull in another set of ears . . . or someone who speaks the damn language.” Remington caught a yawn and kicked off his shoes. “Don’t bother calling for at least six hours. I won’t answer.”

He pushed from the bed and closed the blinds. “Have I told you how much I love traveling on your dime?”

He hung up.

He would be up by dusk and ready to find the contact he’d made before he boarded the plane. Then, after a decent night’s sleep, he’d be at the bank in the morning.

As the city around him woke, Remington did his best to drown out the noise and the light. He hit the bed and instantly felt his body sinking. His last thought before he fell asleep was,
I need to have something tomorrow or Blackwell’s wallet is going to shut
.

Sleep first . . . information later.

Hunter woke with a start. His head swiveled to the side.

Gabi was still there. Her hair splayed on the pillow, her eyes closed, and her lips slightly parted as she slept.