Exposing the Heiress

by Jennifer Apodaca

  Hunt panted into her ear, “Look at the statue. That’s what I feel and see when I’m inside you.”

  Alyssa took in the beauty Hunt created with his hands. She stared until he took her over the edge, then wild pleasure blinded her to everything but Hunt.

  Alyssa flew in the arms of the man she was falling in love with.

  …

  Wearing just his boxers, Hunt reclined on one side of the couch with Lyssie’s feet in his lap. Every time he pressed his thumb into her arch, she moaned. He’d found another spot that made his girl hot. He loved discovering new details.

  She leaned against the opposite side, filming the statue. “Hold it for me.”

  Wrapping his hand around the statue, he eyed her in her bra and panties. “How about we trade? You hold the statue and I’ll video you.” Her hair was tousled, her skin still flushed and her eyes…damn.

  “Nope. I don’t do underwear shots. Sorry. And believe me, I’ve had offers, including from Playboy Magazine.”

  Hunt fumbled the statue, the image of Lyssie spread out, nude and posing…other men seeing her. “Oh hell no.” Curling his hand around her slender foot, he leaned forward. “I don’t share, cover girl.”

  She lowered the camera. “How is it different? You’ve sculpted me nude. Would you show that?”

  Hunt shifted his gaze to the sculpture. A part of him wanted to. Sharing the awakening beauty of Lyssie, the way she rose and stretched was more than sensual. It was a woman embracing her pain and power. Would he show it? He returned his attention to her. “I don’t feel the need to lock it up in the dark like I do my other work.”

  Picking up her camera, she asked, “Why, Hunt? Why do you lock your studio, keep everyone out?”

  He set the statue down and leaned back. “Interviewing me?”

  “You sculpted me nude and you’re keeping it. I’m trusting you not to show that until I’m ready.”

  “Point?”

  “You revealed me right down to the dragon tear that is my way of carrying Eli with me. People saw the tat if I was in a swimsuit, but only you know the true significance of it and you put it in that statue. I trust you.” Moving her camera, she pinned her gaze on him. “I love that statue, love seeing me through your eyes. Let me do that for you. Talk to me. I have a lot of footage of you that I want to create into the story of you through my eyes. I want to give you that. No one else, just you.” She smiled and added, “Well, us, because like that statue of me is yours, I’m keeping a copy of this for me. A memory of us.”

  He didn’t have it in him to resist her. Didn’t want to. Lyssie’s gentle fierceness melted the layers of ice in him until she made him burn and feel. Yeah, she trusted him with that statue, but it went deeper, like that moment when he’d been on his knees tasting her, savoring her, unable to get enough and she’d called to him. She’d been flying too high with nothing to hold on to, afraid she’d fall.

  She called to him. Needed him. Trusted him to help her.

  He’d gone nearly feral in that second. Taking her hard, driving her higher while keeping her safe in his arms. He’d never let her fall. So this right now? He wanted to do it, to give her that same trust. Who was the man Lyssie saw through her camera? The one she trusted so implicitly in her most vulnerable moment?

  She asked why he locked his studio. Slowly, he gathered his thoughts. “I go into my studio to vent.” He wrapped his hands around her feet in his lap, the connection keeping him settled. “As a sniper, I’d shut down to do the job, became cold and emotionless. When I came home, I remained disconnected. But after that mall shooting, seeing the way Rachel looked at me, it cracked the tight control I had on my emotions. I started having nightmares, reliving missions. Only, in my nightmares, I wasn’t cold and in absolute control like I had been in real life. Instead, I felt it all—fear, remorse, hatred and sickness at seeing a man die from my bullet. Even after I woke in a cold sweat, I couldn’t stop it unless I sculpted. Once I had the nightmare vented into clay, I put it on the shelf and locked it in that room.”

  She put down her camera, pulled her feet back.

  For one second, Hunt thought she was going to run away from him, tell him to never touch her again. Vast emptiness swelled in his chest. Had he told her too much? Finally made her understand what he was?

  Lyssie went up on her knees and flung herself at him.

  Pure reflex kicked in and Hunt caught her, pulling her up to his chest. Damn, what just happened? Her warm skin pressed against his, vanilla and sunshine fragrance filled his chest where a second ago it’d been a desert of fear and emptiness. She had her head tucked beneath his chin, her silky hair spread out on his shoulder and neck. He shifted, sliding down to hold her against him, and stroked her hair. “What’s this, baby? Are you upset?”

  She laid her palm over his bullet tat. “No. I just want to hold you.”

  Her breath rippled across his skin, creating fissions of emotions sliding into him. “Not that I’m complaining, but why?”

  She lifted her head. “Because I care about you. You’ve spent most of your adult life protecting others. Even now you’re protecting your family from seeing the part of you that you think will hurt them.”

  She saw that? “It would hurt them. My parents dedicated their lives to promoting peace over violence. They protested wars, while raising money to help veterans. If they see what I’ve become, they’ll look at me differently.”

  “Like Rachel?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t have any attachment to Rachel. I tried, but it wasn’t there.” Which hadn’t been fair to her. In hindsight, he realized he really was a cold bastard. Using her to try and figure out how to be normal again. At least he was being honest with Lyssie.

  “Hunt, they love you.”

  “I know and that’s why it would hurt them too much.” He dragged his hand down to settle on the curve of her back. “And there are some things no one can ever know.”

  …

  Alyssa pushed up to straddle his stomach so she could see him better. “What things? Like top secret, you’d have to kill me if you told me things?”

  Hunt’s light blue eyes frosted. “Don’t even joke about that, Alyssa.”

  Hearing her full name from him jarred her. “I… Sorry.” His chest expanded and he slowly exhaled. She stared at that bullet inked over his heart, trying to understand what she’d said wrong.

  Hunt took her hands in his, threading their fingers. “Joking about me killing you is…” He pulled his mouth into a tight line, but his fingers around hers were gentle. “It’s too close to a really sore spot with me.”

  The sudden agony swimming in his eyes tugged on her heart and made her eyes burn. Look at all he’d done for her, taking her on this date, letting her film him, sharing parts of himself, and she tossed off some thoughtless comment. “I’ll be more careful.”

  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the pain was gone. “I don’t want you to be careful. This, what we have, it’s honest. Neither of us is pretending to be something we’re not.” He rubbed his thumbs over her hands. “My response was honest.”

  She could lose herself in his eyes and touch. The way he held her hands with such intimacy and trust fed into her. Little by little, he gave her these pieces of himself, trusting her with them. Her mouth dried. “Does it ever feel like we’re maybe getting too intense? Too fast?”

  “From the second you walked into Once A Marine.”

  “Is this how most short-term hookups are?”

  “No.” He leaned up, his mouth brushing hers, then his eyes commanded her gaze. “You’re not a hookup. You’re my lover, and right now, you are making me want more. Crave more. I want to go to bed with you, get up with you, take you on dates, make you dinner while you tell me about your day working on your Streets of Valor website. I want to sculpt every wicked image of you I can come up with, and believe me, I can come up with a lot. You are not a hookup to me, baby girl.”

  A blast of hot want gushed up from her sou
l to feed her foolish hopes. “You want more? Like keep seeing each other after this job is over more?”

  Long beats passed as he ground his jaw. He glanced over at the statue on the table behind the couch. “That’s the first time in years I could sculpt something besides my nightmares.” Swinging his attention to hers, he squeezed her hands in his. “You make me want to be normal and build a real relationship with you, but that switch is there.”

  This, the way he talked to her and told her his struggles wrapped around her chest. She wanted to understand. “Your sniper switch? Are you really so afraid of that? I wasn’t upset at the cliffs. I’ll never be mad at you for trying to protect me.” How could she be? Hunt had always made her feel safe. He’d changed, there was no doubt about that. The all-American boy had come back a hard man, but he didn’t scare her.

  Haunted shadows lurked in his eyes. “What really scares me is that one day I could flip that switch and not be able to turn it off.”

  It took long seconds for the meaning to sink in. Hunt feared he’d lose control of the killer inside him. “No.” She shook her head so hard her hair whipped around her. “You’re not a killer. Not like that.”

  It couldn’t happen.

  Could it?

  Chapter Twelve

  Wednesday afternoon, Alyssa ignored another pleading text from her stepfather. You’re not only ruining your life, but mine, Nate’s and everyone’s at Dragon Wing. How can you do this to your mother’s company? Shacking up with some bodyguard and…

  Delete. She had to do it before she gave in to the temptation to try to explain to Parker that Nate had threatened her and her son that she’d never told Parker about. Had Nate told him about Eli? No, she decided as she worked through the emails and various things Maxine had forwarded to her. Nate had hoarded that info to use against her.

  Lifting her head, she glanced out to Hunt. He sat at the wrought iron table, breaking down and cleaning his two weapons. His hands moved with sure precision, his focus sharp. He had on shorts and another T-shirt that showcased his powerful shoulders.

  They’d returned from the cabin Sunday, the street clogged with news media and both of them tense as hell, but nothing happened. They’d reviewed the camera footage, no Nate. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, not after getting her ring back or seeing the picture of her and Hunt on their date. Media trailed him, catching sight of him looking grim. One reporter managed to ask him how he was holding up.

  He’d looked right into the camera. “Alyssa is my life. I can’t believe this is happening. Her mother would be devastated.” Then he’d shaken his head and walked into the building.

  He was being painted as the victim while social media called her names and told Hunt to run while he could. Dump her cheating ass. Their plan hadn’t done anything but make the world hate Alyssa Brooks more. She took a breath. Didn’t matter. She’d been hated before when her mom died.

  Hunt finished cleaning and swiftly reassembled the gun, then he lifted his head, his gaze catching hers through the screen of the sliding glass door separating them.

  The impact flipped her stomach. You’re my lover. And right now, you are making me want more. Crave more. God, she did too, but was it possible? Looking into his eyes, she desperately wanted a future with him.

  His mouth curved, and her earlier tension softened. In that moment, she saw both the artistic boy she remembered and the hardened man she was falling for. She smiled back. Her phone dinged, shattering the moment. Glancing at the text from another unknown number, she gasped. The thumbnail picture showed a face she recognized.

  Maxine. Her assistant. Crap. Tapping it opened the picture full screen. “Oh God.” A large cop had Maxine thrown face down on the hood of her yellow Mustang, her hands cuffed behind her back. And her face? Shock and fear.

  Maxine was never afraid. Never. Rage punched her. The text accompanying the picture read, Apparently your administrative assistant that I told you to fire repeatedly is a thief.

  Nate, that asswipe. Maxine was not a thief. Blinding fury exploded with a force that consumed her. Jabbing at her phone, she pulled up her contacts and called the scum-sucking bastard.

  “Now I have your attention.”

  His voice jacked her rage to nuclear. “What did you do? Maxine’s not a thief!”

  A hand came down on her arm. She jerked her head up to see Hunt staring at her, his face hard. “Madden?” he mouthed.

  She nodded, her chest tight at the thought of Maxine in handcuffs. In jail.

  Hunt leaned his head close to hear.

  “She stole from me,” Nate said in her ear. “My Rolex and laptop were found in her car.”

  It took a couple heartbeats for her to fully grasp it. “You set her up.”

  “I’m done fucking with you, Alyssa. You’ll get your ass back here and do every damned thing I tell you to and I’ll drop the charges against her.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I’ll make sure Maxine ends up in prison, gets her own personal shower scene and bleeds out.”

  The image splashed violently across her mind and she had to slap her hand over her mouth as nausea shot up her throat.

  Hunt grabbed the phone, hung it up, and dropped down to his haunches. “Look at me and breathe. I heard some of that but I need to know all of it.”

  Don’t vomit. Think. Alyssa took her phone back and pulled up the text message, then showed Hunt.

  “That fucker.”

  “He set her up. Maxine’s not a thief.” She grabbed his arm, digging her fingers into the unyielding muscles.

  He nodded. “Is she in Malibu?”

  “Yes.”

  Hunt grabbed his phone, thumbed the screen. “Hang on.”

  “Hunt, what do you need?” Sienna’s voice came through the speaker.

  “We have a situation. Madden made his move. Maxine Lord was arrested. It looks like outside a…” He looked up at her.

  Alyssa studied the picture, forcing herself to look past Maxine thrown over the hood of the car and cuffed. “Bank in Malibu.” She named it for him.

  Hunt nodded and repeated the information. “Get a lawyer over to the Malibu station and get her released. Nothing showed in her background check, so she doesn’t have a record. Use Alyssa’s name, pull in favors, whatever it takes. Just get her out.”

  As soon as he ended the call, he pulled her into his arms. “She’s going to be okay, Lyssie. We’re leaving in the morning as planned, and you’ll see her soon.” He rubbed her back, then looked down into her face. “Do you know her family?”

  “She has a mom and brother. Jeff went to college with us.”

  “Call them so they can be at the station with her when they release her. She won’t be alone tonight.”

  Her eyes burned with grateful tears. Hunt hadn’t met Maxine, but he knew Alyssa cared so he thought of things like making sure she wasn’t alone when she got out of jail.

  …

  Thursday evening, Hunt dropped their bags and looked around Lyssie’s house in Malibu. After leaving the vineyard, they’d driven straight to Maxine’s brother’s house and had dinner there. It’d been a long day and he was glad to have Lyssie where he knew she was safe. Cooper had made sure the house was secure.

  He’d been here once before while she packed to go to Sonoma. That time he’d checked the main floor then stayed in the living room and made some calls while she gathered her things. Now he took a closer look around. The house was built on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. White walls and marble floors led straight through an elegantly appointed living room to a dining room with a natural cut table to the focal point of the entire living space—the wall of sliding glass panels. Beyond that was a deck built out on stilts and a spectacular ocean view. He loved the view, but the house was cold. Even the gourmet kitchen was all show and little heart. “Looks like a magazine.” The only real personal touch was a painting done by his mother over her fireplace.

  “Professionally decorated, and Jess
ie my housekeeper keeps it perfect.” She waved her hand. “Let’s put our stuff in the bedroom, then I have something to show you.”

  Hunt followed her down a hallway on the right. They passed a hall bathroom and guest bedroom, then went into the master. The massive bed faced a set of French doors with a view of the cliffs and ocean. He liked it a lot as long as he didn’t think of another man in her bed, touching her.

  He locked his jaw at the memory of her telling him that her ex liked her camera-ready, makeup and hair done, wearing tasteful lingerie. All she had to wear for him was the desire for his touch.

  “My new bed came.” She ran her hand over the snowy white comforter then touched the piles of pale blue and gray pillows. “It’s perfect, better than the picture. I love it.”

  It took him a second to mentally catch up. “You ordered a new bed? You weren’t even here.”

  “My housekeeper took care of the delivery, washing the new linens, and making the bed.”

  Watching the way she dragged her fingers over the soft plush comforter, his blood heated. He moved up and wrapped his arms around her. Lyssie felt damn good against his body, her vanilla and sunshine scent filling his lungs. “Want to break in your new bed?” He wanted her, hell, he always wanted her, but it’d been a long day. “If you’re too tired for sex, we could watch a movie until you fall asleep.” She always curled up on him like a kitten and dropped off to sleep.

  She turned in his arms and kissed him, stealing his breath and hardening his cock. “There’s something I want to show you.” She grabbed his hand then paused, a gleam filling her brown eyes. “We could bring a condom.”

  That piqued his interest. The strain that had lurked in her face all night had drained once they’d gotten to Maxine’s and seen that she appeared fine aside from the fiery rage at Madden. Now sparks of sexy mischievousness and a little shyness or nerves brightened Lyssie’s eyes. Shoving a condom in his pocket, he asked, “You seducing me?”

  She grabbed his hand. “Come find out.”

  They crossed the living space and kitchen into another hallway ending in a flight of stairs going down. Quirky and cool. The stairs led to a sunlit rec room. This wing of the house was past the garage and on the lower slope end of the cliff, giving her a bottom level. No sign of a professional decorator here. She’d painted the walls a soft orange that reminded him of that last ray of light as the sun set over the ocean. There was a tanned leather couch facing a huge flat screen TV. Behind that was a ping-pong table. Across the room was a sliding door with a tiny deck big enough for a couple chairs, with a sturdy metal railing and a sheer drop-off down to the beach and ocean. Beautiful and possibly treacherous. Lyssie really didn’t have a fear of heights.