She sat up abruptly, scooping up her panties from the floor and scrunching them into a small ball in her fist. “I have to go. I have to get back to work soon.”
She needed to shower and change. How was it possible that she was still almost fully clothed yet she felt utterly bared to him, while he was the one naked and didn’t seem as affected? The imbalance was unbearable.
“Of course.” A rueful expression flickered in his eyes. “I’ll see you at the bar.”
She wanted to ask him not to—to beg him to leave her alone—but she couldn’t get it out. It was too late. She’d had a taste and she wasn’t going to be able to fully resist him. That realization terrified her. If she was this wrecked after only a little foreplay, how could she ever cope with more? She had to go.
“Don’t look so worried,” he called as she quickly scuttled to the door. “This isn’t going to be that difficult.”
That’s where he was wrong.
CHAPTER FOUR
INTENSE WASN’T THE word for Luisa. The woman lived for pleasure—but she let herself take it in only tiny, one hundred percent proof bursts. Hunter wanted to eek it out for her—prolong it, deepen it, make it better and better still. He’d known she’d be passionate and she was—hot and sweet and he didn’t want to wash the scent of her from his skin, he didn’t want to walk from her. Ever.
Yeah, so freaking infatuated. So hard for her still, despite blowing that load. Not having her completely was breaking him. But he’d been broken before and had never been put back together right anyway. What were a few more unfixable cracks?
It had been so fucking worth it.
He took a couple of deep breaths to keep back the disappointment of not having it all with her yet. No point in pushing her for what she didn’t want to give. It was what it was, right? He had to accept it. But he was mad with her. He wanted more and he damn well knew she did too. She just needed that little bit longer to accept it.
He closed his eyes and relived the pleasure of watching her writhe on his bed. She’d kissed like a dream and her body was silken, hot and strong and he still ached to pull her beneath him and drive as deep as he could into her. He wanted to watch her eyes as he did that. He wanted to feel her response in every goddamn cell.
Soon. He breathed in and tried to cool it. He was close and she was so nearly ready and he could wait just a little longer.
So fucking worth it.
Raw, masculine satisfaction thrummed through his body as he remembered how wet-hot she’d been, how her lust-dazed gaze drank him in as she’d touched herself. She thought of him every time. Thank heavens. That made them even.
He stalked to the shower and flicked the lever to cold. He ran his hands down his body, but he didn’t stroke his straining cock. No. He wasn’t jacking off again without her. He had no intention of coming again until he was locked in her tight little channel. He hissed out a breath between gritted teeth as he remembered how she’d clenched on his fingers. So hot. So tight. So fucking his.
An hour later he walked over to where she was working the bar. She looked at him but looked quickly away again. Yeah, she had regrets. Which was wrong. Nothing about what had happened between them this afternoon should be cause for regret. He took a seat and ordered a beer from her, trying to stay gentle and not let his bubbling impatience show. She didn’t look into his eyes when she placed it on the bar.
Chicken.
But he bided his time, sipping the beer, amused by the other patrons and their antics, enjoying watching her.
“You’re just gonna sit at the end of the bar and stare at me all night?” she asked tartly after an hour or so.
“I can’t think of anything better to do.”
“Karaoke?” she suggested flippantly. “You could talk to some people. Dance. Party.”
“Not my style, you know that.”
“What do you do to blow off some steam?”
He didn’t bother answering that one. Too obvious.
“You’re too serious,” she said. “You should find other ways to loosen up.”
“You think I don’t know how to loosen up?” he asked, entertained by both her attack and her assumption.
“I think you’re extremely serious.”
“After what happened in your villa this afternoon?” Laughter burst out of him. “Wasn’t that us playing a game?”
“That was extremely serious,” she whispered huskily.
“Maybe you’re projecting and that’s your problem,” he said with a wink. “Maybe you take sex too seriously. Which is interesting given how not-seriously you take other things.”
She frowned. “Such as?”
“Your career. You don’t mind what you do, you don’t have some big dream to build a long-term career in any one place or doing any one thing.”
“No,” she admitted with a proud toss of her head. “I’m not bothered about ‘making it’ in the rat race if that’s what you mean.”
“Sure, that’s fair enough, if it’s actually the truth. And then there’s your personal life. You smile and make friends easily, yet you leave them even more easily.”
It was deep relationships she didn’t want.
“There’s this thing called social media, it makes it easy to stay in touch,” she said sarcastically.
“Yet you only post carefully curated pictures that show more scenery than emotion.” He critiqued. “Chelsea and Min showed me your page. Yet you take sexual intimacy very seriously.”
Hence her not-much-sex thing. Or at least, not much sex with one person thing.
“I’m picky about sharing my body, I’m not going to apologize for that.”
A shot of possessiveness winched him tighter. “I’d never want you to. I’m picky too.” He leaned closer to her. “I like that you’re picky. I also like that when you do decide to do something, you go all in.”
“I thought I was ‘perfunctory’.”
He chuckled at her little pout. “You’re still smarting about that? You were quick, but you were passionate with it.”
A vulnerable expression flickered in her eyes. He almost felt badly for needling her. Maybe he ought to back away and leave her alone. Except he couldn’t, and he damn well knew she wanted this as badly as what he did. Didn’t she understand that if they indulged they could rid themselves of it? There was no need for either of them to get hurt. Clearly she’d been hurt before. His skin prickled. If he ever found out who and how, he’d punch the fucker.
“Why don’t you want to get close to anyone?” he asked flatly.
She spilt some of the drink she was pouring. With a frustrated sigh she glared at him. “I can’t work with you standing there watching me.”
Too much too soon. Again. He was pushing her too hard. But it was hard not to when he’d waited this long. He should have come sooner, but he’d needed to finish that last job. “You’ve done it before.”
“That was before this afternoon. You’re too much of a distraction now.”
“And you’re too much of a chicken. Anticipation makes everything all the more exciting.”
“No,” she argued in a low, throbbing voice. “It makes everything ache.”
Her admission almost had him lose control.
“Oh baby, want me to sneak you outside?” he growled. “We both know it only takes you a couple minutes.”
Her lips tightened. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Why?” He lifted his hands in surrender. “What have I done that’s so wrong?”
She tossed down the cloth and put both hands flat on the bar counter and eyeballed him. “You want to know everything about everyone else…but you don’t tell anyone about yourself.”
His chest tightened and his throat followed suit. There was nothing to tell. Literally nothing. That was why.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“Just… stuff.”
“Wow. Way to go on the opening up. Great sharing with you.” She turned her back on him.
&nb
sp; “You don’t want to do that either,” he called after her in annoyance. “You don’t want to get close. Why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to be smothered,” she snapped at him, turning back to step to his end of the bar.
He was shocked that she’d given him an honest answer.
“I had over-protective parents,” she said shortly, offering the tiniest explanation. “I like my personal and emotional space, okay?”
“Okay.” He huffed out a breath. That was fair enough, he could deal with that. “I will not over-protect.” He stifled a laugh as she stared at him skeptically. “No wonder you don’t want to want me.”
“It’s what you do, isn’t it?” she guessed. “Protect people.”
“It’s only a little bit of what I do. Mostly I find people.”
“Like a private investigator?”
“Kind of,” he shrugged. “I’m an extraction and retrieval specialist.”
“What—or who—do you retrieve?”
“Missing kids mostly. Trafficked girls.”
Her mouth opened and closed. “Shit… shit.”
“I had a sister.” Whom he never spoke about. His throat tightened but he fired the words out. He suspected he was gonna have to speak some more to satisfy Luisa. “She was twelve when she went missing.”
“She was taken?”
“Maybe.” Who the hell knew. “One of the many missing, never to be seen again.”
He’d wanted her to become a milk carton kid. He’d wanted them to do everything and anything they could to find her. But Martha, his ‘mom’, hadn’t let him put his home-made posters up. She’d said she was afraid of what might happen—that she didn’t want to lose him too. He’d been too young to question why she’d thought she might lose him.
“And you’re still looking for her?” Luisa asked gently.
He nodded again, unable to offer any more details, but oddly he didn’t regret what he’d said already. And to his immense relief she didn’t offer platitudes, but the expression in her eyes said it all.
“What’s her name?” Luisa asked.
“Beth,” he answered gruffly.
He was glad Luisa had used the present tense. Some days he believed Beth was still alive, other times he hoped she was simply at peace—whatever way that meant. Because the horrors that some of these kids went through? It wasn’t until years later that he realized that perhaps Beth hadn’t been taken. That perhaps she’d run. He’d been too naive to realize that there was something to run from. But he held back the most personal details from Luisa. From everyone.
He hated to face the horrors himself and that worst wasn’t for sharing. Not ever. The pity in her eyes was too much already, he didn’t want to see more. That was not what he wanted from her. Yet strangely he didn’t regret the admission—letting her in just that little bit. The tightness in his chest eased fractionally, enough for him to breathe again. She’d needed it too. It was trust, he realized, allowing some vulnerability to be acknowledged.
“I guess you go into some dangerous situations.” She focused on wiping the bar—though it was polished already.
He nodded yet again.
“But you rescue some of those kids.”
“Some of them.” Not all. Some were hidden too well. Some didn’t even know they were missing, they’d been taken so young.
“I’m sorry about your sister. I hope you find her one day.”
There was the chance, but she wasn’t why he did it anymore. He’d fallen into that rabbit hole and never found his way out again. He just kept on searching. It gave him purpose.
“Why didn’t you talk to me before—back in New York?” she suddenly asked as she wiped. “Then we could have been done already.”
His muscles tightened at the thought of them ‘being done’ already. “You weren’t ready to talk to me then. You’re barely able to talk to me now.”
“Why is it so important that I talk to you?”
“I don’t know. I guess you bother me somehow. I don’t particularly like it. I figure we just have to deal with this business between us, then we can move on.” And that was the truth.
“I’d already moved on,” she said in a low voice.
“No you hadn’t.” He put his hand on hers, stopping her from that pointless polishing. “Don’t lie Luisa. Not to me. Definitely not to yourself.”
She held his gaze for a long time. He’d thought she might speak again—was almost willing her to spill whatever it was that was on her mind. But she didn’t.
“It doesn’t have to be that big of a deal,” he muttered. “Not that complicated. It’s just want.”
“You travelled along way for not that big of a deal.”
“I travel a long way all of the time. That’s not that big of a deal either.” He grinned at her and released her hand. “You’ve probably travelled more. You know it’s just time in a tin can.”
The tension in her shoulders relaxed. Yeah, this didn’t need to be that complicated. They didn’t need to share more. There was nothing wrong with just enjoying company and the chemistry between them. But he was glad when it was closing time and those last few customers left.
“Let me walk you back to your rooms,” he offered once she’d locked up the bar.
“It’s not exactly dangerous round here.” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“Let me do it anyway.” He’d woo her just a little.
Her smile was slow and soft and their silence companionable as they walked through the quiet, dark resort to where the staff quarters were hidden at the back.
She turned just before her door. “You’re not going to take advantage?”
Oh he’d take advantage of every opportunity he could. “If you want. Invite me in, if you dare.”
“I share the room, remember?”
“Oh.” Damn.
“But she’s still working in the kitchen. We have about,” she glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes.”
Ten minutes wasn’t anywhere long enough. He should have walked her to his villa. “Let me just ensure there’s no intruder in there.”
“Don’t suggest that.” She managed to giggle and glare at him at the same time as she unlocked the door. “I’ll have nightmares.”
Did she have nightmares already? “You don’t get scared traveling around on your own?”
“Of course I do sometimes. I’d be dumb if I didn’t.” She glanced at him as she walked in ahead of him and flicked on the light. “Do you get scared?”
“All the damn time. Helps me keep my wits about me.” He looked around the small room. Two single beds.
“You shouldn’t leave this out in the open.” He frowned and opened the passport sitting on top of the small table—it was an auto thing to do. Those habits were hard to break. The passport was almost at expiry date so the photo was old. Her hair was ultra short. Sexy as hell. But not as much as the stunning mane she had now. In the picture her cheekbones were more prominent—probably because of that pixie cut hair. Two leather-bound books were stacked next to the passport and next to them was an open tin of pencils. He ran his finger over the worn cover of the top one.
“They’re my journals. Don’t read them.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He was offended. Although if this was a job, he’d have totally read them.
“You’re like a spy,” she said. “I bet you read other people’s journals if you can.”
He grinned a little guilty. “Not if they belong to friends.”
“Friends?” Her lips parted in another of those sweet smiles. “Is that what we are?”
“We can only try, right?” He dared her. “I don’t want to research you behind your back. I’d rather you trusted me to tell me anything you want, yourself.”
Her lips tightened. Yeah, he knew she still didn’t want to talk to him.
“You know everyone’s fucked up in some way, right?” she said tartly.
“I do know that, yes. Some more than others. Some handle
bad things better than others. But yeah, we all get broken up into bits and glued back together. That’s life.” He turned and walked to her door, pausing to look back at where she stood in the center of that lonely little room. “I don’t want to intrude in the areas where you don’t want me. But I don’t want you to hide from me either.” He rubbed his hair, frustrated. “That probably doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes sense.” She pressed her lips together. “I want that too—I want to know you. I want to understand… but I don’t want to care too much.”
“You’ve been hurt before.”
She’d already told him that she’d offered her love to someone. She’d watched someone die. It wasn’t hard to put one and one together.
She met his gaze with a solemn look. “I think we both have.”
His was a different kind of hurt. A different loss. But yeah, same result. He didn’t want close. He didn’t want caring. He’d never had it, never would.
“I think you’re clear.” He checked his watch. “And my time is up.”
She walked over to where he lingered in that open doorway. “You’re not going to kiss me goodnight?”
He shook his head. “You know what will happen if I do and you’ve said you’re not ready for that yet.”
But from that look in her eyes she was getting there. It wouldn’t take much to tip her over. But he wasn’t doing that—yet.
He reached out and touched her lip with his finger—so lightly—but it damn well made his balls ache. Right now he wanted her more than he could breathe. “Sweet dreams Luisa.”
“You know they’re not going to be sweet.”
He chuckled. “Didn’t your mamma teach you not to play with matches? Don’t start a fire if you don’t want to be burned.”
She looked a little rueful. “The fire’s already started Hunter.”
He smiled as he left her. That it had.
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