Taking Him (Lies We Tell)(16)

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.

She’d thought a hug would be okay. A hug the way she’d used to hug him years ago. But that hug had turned into something else. The feel of his body, the hard expanse of his stomach beneath her palms. The sheer heat of him…

And he’d let her. More than let her, he’d grabbed her hand and pushed it down on him. He’d let her give him what he so clearly needed. What he so clearly wanted.

Why did he keep denying it? Denying them? And why was touch so damn problematic for him?

She heard the shower go on and took a step toward the door, wanting to confront him.

But stopped. What if he’d told her it hadn’t meant a thing? That he got handjobs from other women all the time and this was merely one more?

Cold seeped through her. No, she couldn’t stand the thought of that. She wanted it to mean something to him because it sure as hell meant something to her. But what if he denied it?

Ellie swallowed, the cold inching deeper, burrowing beneath her skin. God, what had possessed her to confess those things to him? To tell him she’d fantasised about him even when she’d been with Cam? That she’d touched herself while thinking about him.

She’d revealed so much and all he’d given her back were blank walls. Closed doors.

Despite what they’d done together, he was still as much of an unknown quantity to her as he’d ever been.

Her jaw tight, Ellie turned and left him to his shower.





Chapter Seven

Hunter cursed as he ended the conversation he’d been having with Laura, the inappropriate blonde date he’d decided to take to his brother’s wedding. Or rather, the date he now couldn’t take to his brother’s wedding because she’d now informed him she was going out of town on some kind of family business.

“You look pissed.” Vin put down his Skilsaw and shoved the protective goggles he’d been wearing back up on his head. “What’s up?”

Hunter put his phone back into the back pocket of his jeans. “Laura, the date I was going to bring to Justin’s wedding, can’t make it.” He swore again. “Shit, I’m going to have to go out tonight and see if I can find someone else.”

“A bar pick-up?”

Hunter lifted a shoulder. He didn’t give a shit who it was as long as he had someone. “Anyone will do. Especially anyone who could potentially piss Dad off.”

“Uh huh.” Vin didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. He knew all about what had gone down in Hunter’s family all those years ago. Hunter had talked to him about it, but only once, the night he’d gone to his father about the affair with Liz. The night his father had dismissed him as a dirty liar. The night Liz had told him that all he’d been to her was a distraction. A bit of fun. An ego boost. Why would she fall for a seventeen-year-old boy?