Too Much to Lose

by Holt, Samantha

  Jess bunches my shirt in her hands. I think I hear a button snap. But it’s not enough. If I’m going to do this once, I’m going to do it properly. I bring my hands up to her face and cup both cheeks, bending her back marginally. She’s vulnerable and open to me, her breasts are crushed against my chest and her heart thuds wildly against my skin.

  Rocking my hips into her, I press deeper still, holding her face vehemently. The tiniest moan echoes between us and I answer it with a groan.

  “So good.” I break away briefly to drag my lips across her cheek to her ear. “You taste so good.”

  I nibble on her lobe, satisfied with the way her sexy body shudders. Then I capture her mouth again. Jess is like liquid in my arms, moulding to me. I try to recall why this is such a bad idea but those thoughts are like smoke in the wind—dispersed by her soft breasts against me and the feel of her rear as I curve my hands over it.

  Noise—the sound of people chatting and stumbling out the pub threatens to break through my lusty haze but I’m too scared to let go. I might not get this chance again so I bring a hand to the back of her neck and grip it tight so I can press deeper than ever before.

  Someone pushes into me and I’m forced to draw away so I can make sure they don’t knock into Jess. I scowl in their direction but the crowd of pub-goers are already walking unsteadily along the street.

  I turn my attention back to Jess. She gazes up at me, her skin glowing in the streetlights. Lips puffy, eyes glazed, she looks insanely beautiful. I still taste her on my tongue.

  And I want more.

  Her gaze darts up and her brow creases. “You’re bleeding!”

  She steps forward and touches my brow. I jerk as her slender fingers touch a sore spot on my head. Tugging her hand away, I find the cut on my forehead. It’s still bleeding but I don’t think I’ve done any major damage.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You should have it seen to.”

  Lifting my fingers away, I study them. “Nah, it’s not that bad.” I press the sleeve of my black shirt to my head and dab away what I can. “How’s it look?”

  Her lips twist. “Like you’ve been in a fight.” Those green eyes twinkle with amusement.

  I almost forgot the fight. What the hell has made me so reckless? I’ve probably just screwed up any chance of getting close to her. “Yeah, about that…”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I shouted. I’m just not used to anyone acting on my behalf, you know?”

  Why does that sadden me? Jess might seem tough but she needs someone to look after her. Maybe that’s an old fashioned notion but that’s how my mother raised me. You look after the women in your life.

  But Jess isn’t in my life, I remind myself. And she’s more than capable of looking after herself. Con woman, remember?

  “I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me. But you still shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that.”

  “It’s okay, it doesn’t happen often.” Jess places a hand on my arm, probably trying to placate me.

  Unfortunately the sight of that guy grabbing her isn’t going to be soothed away by one small touch, no matter how much I like her hands on me. And that she’s admitting it’s happened before makes me stiffen. What can I do about it though? Stand guard every time she goes to work? I don’t have any rights over this woman and I definitely don’t want any.

  “Are you likely to lose your job ‘cause of me?”

  She shakes her head and lets loose a soft smile. “I doubt it.”

  “Have you got your phone?”

  “Yeah, why?” She pulls out a cheap mobile phone, hardly the sort of thing I’d expect someone with thousands tucked away to own.

  I snatch it, ignoring her sound of objection and put my number in her contacts before handing it back. “If there’s any trouble, give me a call.” She goes to protest and I hold up a hand. “Please?”

  “Fine.”

  “If they threaten your job, I’ll explain it was all me, okay?” And I might end up one step closer to infiltrating her life and finding the money.

  “It’s fine, really.” She glances over her shoulder at the pub doors. “But I do have to get back or I will lose my job.”

  “Will you call me anyway?” I ask, hating how desperate I sound. But I need an opening again. I’ve messed up my plan completely. How else am I going to get back into her life?

  “I don’t think so. I’m sorry. I just can’t right now… it’s not you—”

  “It’s me,” I finish for her. “Yeah, yeah I get it. Just remember to call if you need anything.”

  Jess nods and eyes me for a moment while chewing her bottom lip. “See you, Hunter.”

  “Bye, princess.”

  I watch the sexy sway of her ass as she turns and heads back into the pub. The sound of her saying my name rolls through my head over and over and I bite back a groan. To think I’d been holding that ass moments go. Damn, what a fucking mess I am. I am totally screwing up this job. I only hope she calls. Otherwise I’m back to sifting through paperwork and following leads that are going nowhere.

  She’s a hard girl to pin down. No wonder the client needs help. There’s no way the cops would expend much time trying to track down his money. She has no Facebook, no email account, nothing about her online—which is fucking strange in this day and age. No way of finding out what’s going on in her personal life, which—after three weeks of following her—seems non-existent. Either she’s very clever or I’ve been too distracted. Mounting bills and a cute ass tends to do that to a man,

  I scrape a hand through my hair and grimace at the stickiness there. Tonight did not go the way I planned at all. I hadn’t even intended to kiss her. I was going to take it slow. Try not to seem like a jerk. Not seduce her or get into a fight over her like—what was it she said?—a jilted lover. But that’s how I feel now. My heart hurts as though it’s been a little trampled. I shake my head and shove my hands in my pockets. I need to get home and get my head straight, figure out exactly how I’m going to discover her secrets and get paid.

  Chapter Three

  Jess

  A thump at my door drags me from my sleep. I roll and glance at the clock on my bedside table. Eight a.m.

  “Ugh.” I throw my head back down on the pillow as the knocking continues and I register the pain in my skull. “Just great,” I mumble to myself.

  I didn’t finish work until three a.m. and barely slept. Hunter refused to leave my thoughts. Hunter kissing me, touching me, fighting for me. It freaked me out—it freaks me out—but I can’t help feeling a little excited. No one has ever fought for me like that. Once I smoothed things over with the boss, everything was fine. I regret snapping at Hunter, but it’s for the best. It doesn’t matter how much I want him, I can’t afford for him to get to know me.

  I flinch as my headache amplifies when I lift my head off the pillow. When I come to my feet, the world sways. “Just great.” A migraine. All I needed. I snatch my robe off the back of the door and throw it on before stumbling to the front door. I fling it open. “Yes?”

  The woman holding a bunch of flowers looks startled. Either I’m a wreck or I just bit out my greeting. “Flower delivery.” She thrusts forward the beautiful bouquet of pink roses, forcing me to take them. I scowl.

  Who would send me flowers? I hunt for a note but can’t see one. She puts a clipboard in front of me and I somehow juggle the roses and pen as I sign for them. My vision is blurry from the migraine so it’s a miracle I manage to write anything. I mumble a thanks, hand back the pen and retreat gratefully into my apartment.

  Flinging the bouquet on the kitchen counter, I stumble back to my bed, head swimming. I need painkillers. And fast.

  “Shit.”

  Nothing in my bedside drawer. Like an old woman, I stagger to the bathroom and discover nothing there either. I can’t believe I haven’t stocked up on more painkillers. I get migraines a lot and I’m normally so careful.

  Could I make i
t to the chemist? I steady myself against the sink and eye my reflection. I look like death. I mean really look like death. The circles under my eyes make me seem like a skeleton. Even my usually golden skin looks pale.

  With a shake of my head, I go back to bed, curled over because it’s too painful to stand. Maybe I can sleep it off. I close my eyes and beg the pain to recede. At some point, I drift but the agony is still there, stopping me from falling asleep completely. When I glance at the clock again, it’s ten a.m. This migraine isn’t shifting. I need to get to the chemist and I can’t afford a taxi. I’m not sure I even trust myself to stand.

  Through my open bedroom door, I spy the roses waiting on the counter. Could they be from Hunter? His way of an apology perhaps? It doesn’t seem his style but I can’t think of anyone else who might send them. Perhaps my boss, Eddie, but that doesn’t sit right either. Too romantic and not fatherly enough. But how would Hunter even know where I live? Maybe one of the staff at the pub told him.

  Nausea bubbles in my stomach and I’d cry from the pain if I didn’t think that would make it worse. I need those damned painkillers. I wrack my brains for how to get some but can’t think of anything. It doesn’t help my mind is fogged over and the world spins if I try to open my eyes.

  Since moving to London, I’ve kept myself to myself. My ex and his friends proved to me no one wants to be friends with an ex porn star. I can’t really blame them. Who wants to be friends with someone who fucked strangers for a living? And I left what’s remains of my family—one aunt—far behind long ago. So I have no one to go to.

  My phone buzzes. I groan and regret the sound when it rattles my skull. I reach for my phone on the bedside table and have to squint at the screen to see it through the blurring of my vision. I can’t even tell who’s calling but I answer anyway.

  “Jess?” Hunter’s deep voice sends shivers through me. Even with the migraine from hell, he turns me on.

  “Hunter?”

  “Jess? Is everything okay? You sound funny.”

  I imagine him running a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed with concern. “Yeah, I… what can I do for you?”

  “What’s going on, princess?”

  “I’m… I’m not well,” I say feebly, feeling tears well.

  “Are you in danger?”

  “No, I just…”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  “What? No!” I sit up and immediately fall back against the pillows with a moan.

  “I’m coming over.”

  “You can’t do that!” I protest, my voice hoarse.

  “I can. You don’t sound good at all.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I won’t. I feel like my head is going to explode. But I don’t need him knowing that and I sure don’t need him playing hero.

  “I’m coming over.” His tone brokers no argument.

  “Fine,” I huff. “The door is unlocked.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I sink down and bury myself back under the covers. The pain is still excruciating but knowing Hunter will be here soon weirdly relieves some of the tension. My mind drifts again, this time recalling his magical touch and the hardness of his body against mine. He kissed like I expected him to. Hard, demanding, with a slight edge, but I never anticipated melting like one of those heroines on the front of old romance novels.

  A touch to my shoulder jars me back to reality. I must have dozed off. I drag open my eyes and Hunter’s face floats in front of me. “You came.”

  His brow is furrowed and there’s extra scruff on his chin. If I was well enough, I’d reach out and touch it.

  “What’s going on, princess? Are you sick? Do you need to go to hospital?” He puts a palm to my head and I flinch before sinking against the comforting warmth of its coarseness. “You don’t look so good, Jess.”

  “I have a migraine.” Do I sound as pathetic as I feel? “I haven’t got any pills. I’m sorry, you didn’t need to—”

  “It’s okay, sweets.”

  Tears singe my eyelids. His soft tone works inside, loosening my composure and a tear escapes. He sweeps it up with a finger and bundles me into his arms. My head pounds with the movement but once I’m burrowed against that strong chest, I can almost forget about it. I grip his T-shirt and the scent of his leather jacket adds to my comfort. I can’t recall the last time someone held me.

  Hunter’s heart beats steadily against my ear. He feels so vital and warm. I spread my palms over his top and luxuriate in the taut muscle beneath it. God, even with a migraine I’m turned on by him. Already, flickers of heat are kindling low in my stomach.

  He mutters to me, shushing me and telling me everything will be okay. It won’t. How can it be when I’m always going to be hiding from my past? But for now I’m too weak to even consider that. All I want to do is enjoy the comfort even if it’s just for a day. I almost smile when I reflect on who is comforting me. You wouldn’t think this man had such a soft side—not when you see his scruffy chin, bad boy clothing and the hard glint in his eyes.

  “Will you be okay if I leave you for a moment to get some painkillers?” he asks softly, one hand stroking my hair.

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  He separates us and eases me down. When he tucks me in, I feel like a child again. I remember my mother putting me to bed, though the memories are hazy as my parents were killed in a car crash when I was eight. My aunt was kind enough but once I got older and she got married, everything changed. Even my ex-boyfriend had no sympathy for my migraines. I should have known he was a jerk when he told me to get over it and stop being a drama queen.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I long for him to brush a kiss across my hair, which is insane. I barely know the guy. One kiss hardly constitutes a relationship. But I want his touch nonetheless.

  However, I feel him stand and no kiss comes. I keep my eyes closed and scarcely dare to breathe. I think he watches me for a moment before leaving. The door shuts but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. The pain bangs behind my eyelids. I don’t even manage to fall asleep again while he’s gone and anticipation stirs in my veins.

  I’m making a mistake here, surely, but I’m hungry for his touch. This migraine has lowered my defences and I’m more vulnerable than ever. It’s probably been brought on by stress—as usual—and I can’t help feel on the edge of something. Like my life is about to twist and buckle under the pressure once again and everything will fly out into the open. I’ll have to pack up and start all over again. Which is precisely why I can’t let Hunter into my life.

  I grip my pillow and bury my head further into it. I’m an idiot. I obviously haven’t learned anything from my experience a couple of years ago. I’ll just take the pills, thank him so much for his help and send him on his way. After all, what’s the point in going to such lengths to separate myself from the past if I’m going to get involved with someone who I will eventually have to reveal the truth to?

  Chapter Four

  Hunter

  Painkillers in hand—the strongest ones I could buy—I press open the door to Jess’s apartment and grimace. The place is tidy but it’s a dump. The tiny living area houses a threadbare couch which is probably older than the one at my house with a ghastly brown and white seventies print on it. The walls are a pale green and flaking. A small kitchenette sits to one side with a petite fridge tucked under one of the cabinets. They look like they belong in the seventies too.

  I shake my head. I’m willing to bet she’s renting it furnished. Is it a show? I can’t imagine the woman her uncle described living like this. Greedy, manipulative people don’t change and they don’t let themselves suffer. I’ve seen my fair share of criminals and con artists. Jess goes against every stereotype.

  With careful steps, I enter her bedroom and let out a breath when she eyes me owlishly. Her voice at the end of the phone did two things—scared the shit out of me and elated me. It gave me a way in and saved me from giving her the crap excuse
I’d come up with to talk to her. But the panic that struck me when I heard her fragile voice was unexpected.

  I study her and wish I could take away the pain. She looks so damned cute—all mussed hair and sleepy eyes. I like her without the dark make up. Jess doesn’t look like the hot vixen I want to pin down and fuck but her pale lashes and delicate skin make me want to grab her and protect her from everything.

  I bite back a sigh. Really don’t need to be thinking like this. It’s got to be an act. Why can’t I keep my head together?

  Maybe because just looking at her makes me hard.

  “Hey,” I say as I sit on the bed and hand over the pills.

  I glance around and realize she doesn’t have anything to take them with so I race to the kitchen and pour her a glass of water after fumbling around in the couple of cabinets. She owns only two glasses. This girl is nuts.

  Protectiveness burgeons in my chest when I hand over the water. Mam used to say I had a hero complex. It was why I wanted to be a bodyguard. I wanted to be Kevin Costner until I realized the job was too dull for me. Even as a kid I’d take in stray animals and even stray kids. I was bigger than most so if I saw someone being picked on, I’d be straight in there. I chuckle to myself. It did mean I spent a lot of time fighting.

  Now that damned hero complex is rising up again. It hit me last night and it’s what forced me to come to her today. I can’t resist a person in need. Still, it’s given me a way back into her life. Jess doesn’t seem averse to me playing her saviour. Hopefully she’ll be grateful and give me the chance to find out where the money is. Then I’ll pay my bills, save Mam’s house and my business and say goodbye to the mess that is Jess.

  Her weak mumble of thanks strikes me in the gut. You ain’t going to be thanking me soon, princess. Not when I hand her over to her uncle. I’ve just got to be charming enough to get close without getting too close. That way I won’t be breaking her heart too.