by Chloe Lane
Maybe I can just think about...his hands. Not his face. Not his blue eyes. Just the way he holds me so firmly, so in control, and pushes me over the edge. Just the way he strokes me between my legs like he was born to do it. Just the way he makes me come—makes me—and the way I love that. I love it when I don't have to decide. I love it when pleasure is my only job.
God, I miss him.
I've been waiting for him to come back. With every day that passes, I lose a little more of my resolve to confront him. It might be best if I just walked away from all this. But then...how would I avoid him in the apartment building we share? If I walk away, I'm not going to be able to afford that. He could find some way to break the agreement and raise the rent, and then Robin would be out on her ass, too. I can't do that to her.
Stop thinking about that, I tell myself, circling my swollen clit with two fingers. Just think about the way he fills you, stretches you, takes you...
I close my eyes and tip my head back in my swivel chair, spreading my legs to give my hand better access. I don't think about the apartment building anymore. I don't think about anything except the way his hands feel on my body, the way his cock feels inside of me, the way I can let myself glide away on the pleasure instead of fighting. I've been fighting for so long. I can fight again, if I can just...get...
It takes a little while longer, because I have to focus all of my attention on him, breathing the memory of him in, but there comes a moment when it's not heart-wrenching to think of him. I'm just consumed with what it felt like to be touched, to be possessed, to be taken and worshipped by him the way that he did.
Finally my body responds and lets go, and I come hard in my office chair, my hips jerking back and forth. It lasts for a long time, the pleasure—and when I resurface, I can feel how red my face is.
Holy shit.
I might not have cared a few minutes ago that I'm at work, but now that the crushing need for release is gone—well, not gone, but at least lessened—my head is clear and my heart is pounding. What if someone had walked in? What if my boss had seen me with my hand between my legs, moaning Matthew's name?
I move quickly to the bathroom, taking several minutes to freshen up, and then return to my desk.
What the hell is this new job anyway?
I pull up my emails and my notes, take a deep breath, and focus. Now that my head is above water, it's a lot easier to make sense of this.
The description is pretty straightforward.
Update and maintain Hunter Housing website with news items and features
Communicate with news outlets about new projects and features
The more I read, the more my heart races. This is as close to a journalism position as I'm ever going to get at Hunter Housing.
Matthew promoted me. That's essentially what happened. It might not be a pay raise, but the kinds of things I'll be doing are actually going to be making use of the journalism degree I worked so damn hard to earn.
But why? Why? He kicked me out of his life, but...then he promoted me?
I stand up from my desk so fast that I almost knock the chair over. I don't understand it, but I don't need to understand it in order to do something for him.
I at least owe him that much.
Chapter 26
Matthew
I'm almost running when I get to my office, forgetting until I'm standing in front of her desk that Skye isn't my secretary anymore.
I knew I couldn't bear to see her every day if we weren't going to make it. There was no way I was going to put her through that torture. But I did make her some promises, and it was also just as impossible to fire her from Hunter Housing. So the very first thing I did was to put through a transfer to reassign her to the PR department. I had them create a new position just for her so that she can finally put her degree to use. I know it gnaws at her, though she'd never complain about being my secretary.
The timing is good, too, because we need some positive press. The more mentions we have in the media, the less argument my father will have about releasing the trust. That's what I want it for. I've made it clear enough. I want to get my brothers off the streets. With Skye pregnant, I've very nearly fulfilled all the terms, but waiting another six months....
Well, he'll change his mind, or he won't.
I stare at the woman who's sitting behind the desk now, a platinum blonde with chunky glasses. “What's your name?”
She blinks up at me, blushing. “I—hello, Mr. Hunter.”
“Your name,” I bark. I don't have time for this. I have to get to her.
“Cindy.” Her hands flutter uselessly over the things on her desk and then, awkwardly, she stands up like it's necessary to greet me.
“Cindy, call down to the PR department and tell them I'm on my way to see Skye—to see Ms. Dawson.”
This, at least, Cindy can do. She snatches up the handset and punches in some numbers, not taking her eyes off me. “Yes, this is Cindy calling from Mr. Hunter's office,” she says. “He says he's on his way down to meet with Ms. Dawson.”
I give her a nod, and then turn on my heel. That's enough warning. She should be waiting for me in the hallway, and then we can put this all to rest. Unless she won't forgive me, in which case I'll have activated the grenade and then thrown myself on it, destroying everything for no fucking reason at all.
“Wait—Mr. Hunter!” Cindy calls after me. I haven't gone far, but she jogs around her desk like someone might be listening in and hurries up to me. “She's not there.”
“What do you mean she’s not there?”
“They said she's not there. When they got back from lunch, she had stepped out, left a note. They don't know when she'll be back.”
“What did the note say?”
“I don't—I don't know, I just—”
“Call them back.”
She does, her face on fire, and I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile to try to make up for being such an asshole. After a moment of murmured conversation, she looks back up at me. “The note said 'Stepped out to run a personal errand for Hunter Housing. Return shortly.'“
It doesn’t make any sense. A personal errand for Hunter Housing? What the fuck could that possibly mean?
Then it dawns on me.
“Oh, shit,” I say out loud, and then I race for the door.
There is traffic.
Traffic, suddenly, like there's a fucking parade going on in the city, though I know there's not. Not today. Today is just a normal day, like every other day, except I might have thrown away my only chance at love, and I need to get across town.
It takes what seems like forever. I turn up the radio loud and take the time in song increments. Three songs go by without my car moving more than five feet, and then things clear. I stomp on the gas too hard and nearly hit the person in front of me.
Calm down, Matt. Calm the hell down.
I force myself to think of this as the battlefield. There's no room for error, not now, and so I devote all my attention to steering the car methodically through the traffic. I don't let anything get to me, not even the driver who cuts me off two blocks later and almost causes another accident. I just avoid and move on. Avoid and move on. For once, the strategy is working.
I pull up to the curb, not bothering with the parking ramp, and shove two quarters into the meter. I can't imagine this will take very long. Still, my heart pounds in my chest, so strongly that I can feel it in my ears. I'm alive, and so is she. As long as that's true, we have a chance. As long as she can forgive me. As long as I can straighten this out.
I don't even need the trust, if I can just have Skye. Skye is all I need in the world. Jesus Christ. Why'd it take me so long to realize it? Why did I never know how much that IED had really fucked me up until now?
Those are questions for another time, because right now all I need to do is to get to her, and I think I know exactly where she is.
I make sure the car is locked.
And then I turn and sp
rint for the building.
My throat tightens as I get to the front steps, my shoulders tensing, ready for a fight. I'm already in overdrive and I'm not even through the front door yet, but as soon as I am, I take a big, calming breath.
It always puts me on edge to be in my father's building.
But this time, it's not about me. It's about Skye. It's about the baby. And it's about this one, final chance at making her see that we can do this, we can be something, even if I'm a fucking idiot sometimes.
I move quickly through the lobby and push the call button for the elevator.
Both cars are up on the eighth floor.
It's agony, but I stand tall and wait for the future. It’s now or never.
Chapter 27
Skye
“Ms. Dawson?”
I look up from my hands, which have been trembling since I arrived at this building, and meet Mr. Hunter's eyes. The senior Mr. Hunter, although there are some striking similarities between father and son. He smiles at me, and I steel myself. I'm not going to get taken in by his false warmth. I came here to do one thing, and I'm going to get it done.
“Hello,” I say, rising, and he beckons for me to come inside his office.
The last time I was here, I was here with Matthew, and our plan was falling to pieces. At least, that's what I thought at the time. Now I think that no matter what happens, we're going to get the world's most precious gift. And it has nothing to do with the trust.
Mr. Hunter moves through the office toward a table at the side. “May I offer you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” I stride purposefully toward his desk, sitting down in one of the chairs across from his own.
He laughs. “You're a woman on a mission.” Then, as if he's humoring a child, he goes around behind his desk and sits, folding his hands on the surface of the desk. “What have you come to talk to me about?”
I lift my chin. “It's time for you to release the trust.”
He nods, frowning a little. “I was hoping you wouldn't say that. The terms of the trust are out of my control. Without a born heir, I—”
“Shut up.” I snap the words with all the fury that's been building up in me for two and a half weeks. “Shut your mouth, Mr. Hunter.”
His eyes go wide. It's probably been a long time since someone last spoke to him like this. “Ms. Dawson, I don't know what you think—”
I stand up from my chair and open the button of my blazer, revealing the belly that's already getting round. “I'm pregnant with your son's baby, Mr. Hunter,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can. “It's healthy, and he or she is going to be born. But that's not what matters.”
“It's not?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“Not entirely. What also matters is your son.” I take a deep breath and swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Your son is trying to do something incredible for people who need it, and it's time you stopped standing in his way.”
“If he was a savvy businessman—”
“He's as savvy as they get, Mr. Hunter. The reason he needs this money is so he can take the next step. Hunter Housing is about to become huge. I don't think you realize—” I look into his eyes. He doesn't realize. He doesn't realize that all the major investors need is to see that Matthew has the first part of the seed money.
“I'm not interested.” The words are flat, and Mr. Hunter looks away from me, toward the window.
“You're not interested in the major work of your son's life?”
He sneers, meeting my eyes again. “Why would I be interested in that? I never wanted him to join the Army in the first place. All this—” He waves his hand like he's indicating Hunter Housing and all its projects. “This is just to spite me, to get back at me. He didn't like that I wanted him to go to college, to get a damn education, to—” Mr. Hunter's face gets redder with each word. “He didn't give a shit that I wanted him to survive.” His hand flies to his mouth. My heart breaks.
It breaks for the man standing in front of me, hair gone gray, who has kept up this bitter front all this time.
Of course he wanted his son to survive. My own hand goes to my belly. I want this baby to survive, too. I want my daughter—or son—to survive, and thrive, and be happy. And Mr. Hunter has spent the last several years watching his son suffer because of what happened in the Army.
I take in a steady breath and let it out.
“I want him to survive, too,” I say softly. “But you're looking at it the wrong way.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, am I? Am I looking at it that way? Because all I see is a man obsessed with the past. He keeps forcing himself in front of all those homeless veterans, knowing that not much separates them from him. Not much at all.”
“I agree with you.”
He's ready to argue until the words register. “I seriously doubt that, Ms. Dawson.”
“I do agree with you. He was lucky. He was lucky to have you as his father. I've seen his scar, Mr. Hunter. I know you must have paid for the best care possible once he arrived home.”
“I did, but I'd—” He shakes his head. “I never let him know that. I let him think the military insurance paid for everything so I wouldn't ruin his fragile pride.” His eyes blaze. “They didn't pay for everything. They didn't pay for—” He presses his lips together like he's realizing too late that he doesn’t want to go into specifics.
I stand there, looking down at him. “I don't think that really matters. Not now.” It sounds harsh, so I keep going before he can stop me. “But I think we both know that you can let him do what he wants to do. You can release the trust so that he can take Hunter Housing to the next level and help more people.” Then I say the words that could ruin everything or make everything right. “He's still alive, Mr. Hunter. You can be angry that he went at all. I know how fucking scared that must have made you. But he's alive. Let him live.”
Chapter 28
Matthew
My father's secretary, a woman who has irritated me for years, puts up a fight when I show up in the lobby.
“He's in a meeting,” she says primly, her hand on the button hidden below her desk. I don't care if she calls security. They're not going to haul me out. Not today, anyway. I know who's behind that door, and so does my father. I'd imagine that Tina, the secretary, does too, and she's just fucking with me.
“I don't care. I'm going in.”
“He won't appreciate being interrupted, Mr. Hunter.”
“I don't appreciate being interrupted.” And what my father is doing when he dangles this fucking trust in front of me is interrupting my life. He's doing it, though, because I let him. I don't have to let him do anything. I don't need the trust. I can keep looking for funding partners to make breaking ground on the new Hunter Housing building an immediate possibility. I'll sit down with as many people as it takes. It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter.
Then I turn away from her and yank open the door.
It's a large office, so large that when I open it, they don't see me. Someone must have recently oiled the hinges, because there is no creaking when I pull open the door, just a rush of air.
“Look,” Skye is saying. “I don't know what's going to happen between the two of us. I might have a past that won't let us...have a real future.” She sounds a little choked up. “And I can't blame him for that. Not entirely. But that's another...Jesus, that's another story.” She's standing in front of my father's desk, her blazer unbuttoned. Even from here, I can see the gentlest swell of her belly.
My heart shatters all over again at the sight of it. I don't know everything about her—not yet—but I know enough to be certain that I love her. She straightens up. “What I want you to know is that I love your son, and I think he'll make an excellent father. He already cares so much about this baby that he's willing to do anything he has to in order to protect her...or him. Even if that means leaving me. Even if that means living a lifetime of hardship. So if what you're really waiting for is
a reason for him to survive, a reason that he can't let go and leave you behind again, you've got it. And we're right here.”
My father, I can tell by the expression on his face, is completely taken aback. He looks like he might cry, which is something I haven't seen him do. Ever.
“Release the trust, Mr. Hunter.” Skye's voice is shaking. I can see her trembling from here. This isn't an easy visit for her to make, but she's doing it for me. Even though I treated her like shit. Even though I believed that scumbag over her, no matter how temporarily. “Release it, and be a part of the life he wants to live.” Then she swallows hard. “Please.”
My heart is a firework, soaring up into the night sky and exploding, the embers falling to the earth. “No,” I say, my voice ringing out clearly through the office. “Don't.”
I won't stay away from her another moment. Not another single fucking moment. Both of their faces are shocked, mouths open, and I stride across the room and take her into my arms, hugging her so tightly that she gasps. “Matthew, I—” The words are muffled against the front of my shirt.
“Don't say a word,” I tell her, and then I lift her face toward mine and kiss her with all of the heat that's ever been inside of me. It's a jealous, possessive kiss. The rest of the world has no claim on her. Only I do. She's mine, and she'll always be mine, but not because of some stupid deal. Because she loves me enough to do this. And I love her enough to finally break the kiss and turn to my father, who still looks dumbfounded.
“Don't release the trust,” I tell him. “I don't give a shit about the money. All I care about is Skye and my baby.” I dismiss him with a wave of my hand. “Keep it for yourself. Do whatever you want. I'm done. We're done.” And then, my arm wrapped around her shoulders, I guide her toward the door. There are things we need to do together, and the sooner the better.
