It’d been dark last night, but now in the light of day, I could see him clearly and I couldn’t help but drink him in. My gaze moved over him hungrily, taking in every detail of his face, his body. The clothes he wore. He was still lean but bigger than I remembered. His black T-shirt strained around his biceps in a way that made my mouth dry. The worn denim of his jeans hugged his long legs to perfection, cupping his dick in a way that made me hot and achy between my thighs. I noted absently that he hadn’t gotten another lip piercing, and his hair wasn’t cropped like he used to wear it. It was the perfect length to run your fingers though and hang on. It suited him. Made him look rougher somehow.
We’d always had an intense physical connection. From the first moment I saw him, when he started working for Pierce, I’d wanted him. Pierce was mean and cruel and sick, but he was also a coward, picking on those smaller and weaker than himself. Which was why he never went anywhere without one of his men. Hunter had occasionally filled that position, but mostly he’d been used for debt collection. Leaning on those poor bastards stupid enough to forfeit their repayments to Pierce.
Despite all that, as soon as I met Hunter, I knew there was no other man for me.
He’d looked at me across the room that day and something had happened. We both felt it. He approached me that afternoon, and I was helpless against his pull. I never, not once in the two years we’d been together, said no to him. For any reason. Whenever he wanted me, I was ready for him, just like I was now. That low ache began to throb, and I sucked in an uneasy breath at just how much I wanted him.
God, there had to be something mentally wrong with me.
Back then, we’d somehow managed to keep our relationship a secret. I’d told Hunter my stepfather wouldn’t be happy that I was dating one of his employees. God, when Pierce found out about us . . .
I shoved away the memory and gave him a jerky nod, telling him to get on with it.
He gave me a once over, something I couldn’t name moving through his eyes. “Where’s Pierce hiding?”
The question surprised me. I don’t know what I was expecting. No, that was a lie. I’d expected him to ask me why I’d done what I had, why I’d let him go to prison. It was screwed up, but his not wanting that from me, not needing those answers—it hurt. Deep. I thought he’d brought me here to finally learn the truth, and I realized in that moment how badly I’d wanted him to force it out of me, to make me tell him everything, to relieve me of this crushing guilt.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
He stood, putting distance between us again and leaned against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. He shoved his hands in his pockets. All casual-like. “No?”
This whole thing was bizarre. I mean, the setting for my interrogation was cute, almost idyllic. The furniture was worn in that rustic, cottagey way. Floral fabric covered couches, recycled timber table, and chairs. Trees rustled in the breeze outside, birds singing happy little bird songs. I shook my head.
Disgust curled his lips—lips that a few years ago, I’d had the right to kiss whenever the mood struck. And the mood had struck a lot. All I’d had to do was put a hand to his chest and look up at him. He’d instantly lean down, giving me his mouth. I could’ve kissed him all day.
For the rest of my life.
“You really are an exceptional liar, aren’t you?” he said.
“I’m not lying.”
He stood straighter, crossing his arms over his wide chest, expression hard and unyielding. “You need to start talking or things get a fuck of a lot more unpleasant for you.”
I tested the cuffs at my back. They were tight, no way was I getting out of this, not when he thought I knew where Pierce was.
“I don’t know where he is.”
A dark sound rumbled from his chest. “Is that where you were going after visiting your mom? Did I get in the way of a happy reunion last night?”
Anger flared, and I was glad of it. “No.”
He moved fast, came in close. His hands gripped the back of the chair on either side of my waist, caging me in. “I don’t believe you.”
I turned away, refusing to look at him. It hurt too damn much. He trailed a finger down the side of my face, his skin warm, rough.
His lips brushed my ear. “I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you,” he whispered. “Not even my old man, not even your stepfather. I fucking despise you. At least they were honest about what they were. They didn’t play nice while they planned to fuck me over. All I’ve thought about for three long years, locked in that fucking shit-hole, was getting you alone like this. Making you pay.”