by Bella J.
Unable to handle the heat creeping up inside her chest while under his gaze, she stood up and stepped out of the pool.
“I’m gonna crash. You still hell-bent on sleeping in the same room as me?”
“Definitely.” There was no hesitation in his answer.
“You sure? If anyone does try to grab me in the middle of the night while you’re not there, I pack a mean punch.”
“And if that doesn’t work, you sure as hell dish out an epic bitch slap.” He placed his hand on his cheek, and they both burst out laughing.
“Fine, Mr. PI Man.”
“Scarlet?”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yeah?”
“Could you start wearing underwear?”
“Why would I do that?”
He shrugged. “You know, since there is a man in the house. Me.”
“True. But I already fucked you, and you have this whole not eating at the same restaurant twice thing. So not only do I just plan on walking around without underwear, but I plan to walk around butt naked.” She winked at him and walked toward the house feeling like she’d just slam dunked the poor sexy bastard.
“I fucked you, by the way,” he called after her.
“Keep on telling yourself that, Ace.”
Chapter 21
Hunter stayed behind in the pool, waiting for the regret and self-loathing to set in. It always did. After he screwed a woman, the demons inside him got wilder, crazier—stronger. It was his curse. His burden to bear for the rest of his life. But it never stopped him. For those few hours of being with a woman, controlling her, losing himself in pleasure, he was able to push aside all the fucked up craziness inside his head. Yet it never stopped him from hating himself more afterward. The memories would scream louder, the grief burn stronger, and all he would be able to do was look forward to the next time he was able to escape the pain even for just a little while.
Weird thing was, after being with Scarlet, he felt…nothing. It had been a few hours since what Hunter would call their epic fuckery, but he didn’t feel any of those usual shitty feelings that followed. His conscience wasn’t fucking around with him as it always did, making him feel like a low-life douchebag. But he did feel something, something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.
Satiated.
Having sex with Scarlet and that rocking body of hers, hearing words coming out of her dirty little mouth, was better than he ever could have imagined. And he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Okay, of course he liked it, but he wasn’t sure if he liked the fact that he liked it. Goddammit, his mind was pulling and tugging in so many different directions that he felt confused as hell—which was also new. Feeling confused after sex wasn’t something he felt—ever.
Regret? Yes.
Shame? Yes.
Confused? Not so much.
The master bedroom light went off just as he glanced up at the first floor. She was probably in bed…and probably naked.
Dammit. Just thinking about her in bed, naked, had him wanting another round with her. And his cock agreed.
“Shit.”
He got out of the pool, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured the last bit of whiskey in his glass down his throat.
What was happening to him? Ever since he met Scarlet he had a weird need to protect her. But why? He never felt anything other than horny or annoyed when it came to women. He never allowed himself to feel anything else. But somehow with Scarlet it was different…and that was bad—very bad. Just the fact that he wanted to be buried between her legs for the second time was a loud warning bell, and it wasn’t even two hours later.
Fuck. He needed to get his shit under control. He was wound up way too tight and needed a fix in order to get his head straight. But he couldn’t leave her. He didn’t even want to sleep in a different room than her, let alone leave her in this huge-ass house alone. But if he didn’t clear his head, he would crack wide open, and the pain would consume him to a point where he would lose every last thread of control he had.
Maybe if he changed the security code again and called up a few guys to hang around the house for a few hours, he could slip out without worrying about her.
Yes. He had to. If he didn’t do it, he would never be able to focus, or sleep. And God knew he needed to rest and be clear headed in the morning if he wanted to survive Scarlet Woods for another day.
Hunter pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
“Rick, I need an address of the closest dealer in Winnetka. Yeah? Is it on tonight? Great. Just call your guy and tell him you sent me. Thanks, bro.”
He hung up and instantly hated the fact that he had to leave her, but he had no choice. This was the only antidote he had when it came to the poison that pulsed through his veins on a daily basis. Without it, he would never have made it so long since…since…fuck.
He had to go.
Hunter changed the security code, called a few guys, and an hour later he walked into the bedroom to make sure she was okay before he left.
Standing beside the bed, he stared down at her. Of course she was naked. This woman was so damn comfortable in her own skin she would probably walk around town naked if she could. But with that body, he didn’t blame her. Everything about her was damn near perfect—except that mouth of hers that had the talent to piss him off and turn him on at the same time.
The summer heat caused her to kick off the sheet halfway. Her breasts looked so tempting, so perfect with the light of the moon shining in through the window. The sight reminded him of what her skin tasted like, how good it felt to suck and lick those beautiful round nipples, and to hear her labored breaths in his ear.
The palm of his hand started to itch with the need to touch those round tits, to spread his fingers along her skin and squeeze them until she moaned. He leaned forward with his hand, wanting to touch her, then she moved and a strand of dark hair fell over her face. For a moment, he was completely distracted by how beautiful she looked. Peaceful. She didn’t look so hardcore while she was sleeping. All the fire and fury of hell that seemed to beam from her face when she was awake was no longer there. Instead, he saw a beautiful, delicate woman who had been hidden away the entire time.
He softly brushed the strand of hair out of her face and gently traced his finger down her neck, her shoulder, and over the tattoo inked on her side. What kind of hell had she been through for her to want to permanently ink that word onto her skin? And the dog tags? Was it a coincidence that her cousin had once been a Marine and she had a tattoo of dog tags? I think not.
Jesus Christ, this woman just pushed all the wrong buttons in all the right ways and it was starting to fuck with his head.
No matter how long it took or what he had to do, he would find out what happened to her, what made her so cold, giving her a reason to no longer be the delicate and soft woman he saw laying in front of him.
Why? Because she was beautiful and he wanted to see more of her.
Chapter 22
“I know you’re here, Little Red.”
Blanchette’s heart hammered against her ribs, the air in her lungs coming out in small, shallow breaths.
“Are you hiding from me, Little Red? Don’t tell me you’re scared of the big bad wolf.”
His voice was dark, filled with malice and evil intent. It was like a demonic whisper, and it sliced straight through to her soul.
“We had so much fun the other day. And the big bad wolf wants to play again.”
Oh God.
Bile pushed up her throat as she pinched her eyes closed, trying to get rid of the memory. The pain. The hurt. The torment.
“I know you’re here. I can smell you. Your fear. It’s making me want to play even more.”
Tremors possessed her body as she pushed her back harder against the wall she was hiding behind. The bone numbing fear now had complete control over her, and all she could do was pray to God that he didn’t find her.
“Oh, Little Red? We’re fami
ly, remember? Come out and show me how much you love me.”
She opened her eyes and frantically looked around, trying to find any way out of the barn. But there was no way. She was trapped, like a lamb with nowhere to go but the slaughterhouse. Tears slipped down her cheek and she bit down on her trembling lip so hard that she tasted blood. The bile that was stuck in her throat started to push up violently and she had the urge to vomit. Her stomach felt like it had been turned inside out, her intestines squeezed with barbed wire.
She couldn’t go through it again. Not again. There was no way she would survive it.
“I told you I would find you.”
Strong, hard hands grabbed her shoulders and it was like her heart exploded into millions of tiny little splinters, piercing through every part of her skin.
“Leave me alone. Please. Don’t touch me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, but it was no use. They were too far away from the house. No one would hear her. No one would rescue her.
He pushed her hard against the wall, the last bit of air in her lungs escaping her with a huff. With dark, wicked eyes he stared at her, his gaze slithering all over her face.
“My, my, Little Red. What big eyes you have.”
“Please, Brent. Don’s do this. Not again.”
“Shhh.” A cold finger traced down the side of her face, sending violent shivers down her spine. With a hard, painful jerk he turned her around and pulled her back flush against his chest.
A slimy, vile tongue glided down the side of her ear. “And what beautiful ears you have.”
She couldn’t take it anymore. If someone offered her death as the only way to get away from him, she would take it in a heartbeat.
“Stop. Please” she whispered as tears softly started to move down her cheeks.
“What’s the matter, Little Red? This was your favorite story as a child, remember? Granny used to read it to you every night, how the wolf tricked Little Red Riding Hood, and then ate both her and Grandma.”
His hand brushed down the side of her arm, burning her skin, causing her to gag as he moved lower and lower.
“You can’t deny it. You enjoy it just as much as I do.” His hand slipped between her legs, and her spine turned to ice, her body shaking, her soul sobbing with so much pain.
“Brent, please…”
“Don’t you remember how good it felt, how right it felt the first time, when I made you mine? I love you, Little Red. And you love me.”
“No! No, I don’t. You’re sick!” She kept on struggling, tugging, trying to get away. But it was no use. He was too strong. All she could do was to scream again, as loud as she could, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone might hear her. “Help me! Please!”
Brent turned her around and slammed her hard against the wall while pressing his hand over her mouth.
“My, my, Little Red. What a big mouth you have.”
And then he slapped her right across the face. But she was too damn scared to feel anything, so she started to fight back, slamming her fists against any part of his body she could manage.
She kicked. She screamed. She cried. Yet his hands were all over her, all at once. She thrashed and punched and scratched—anything to get free.
“Stop! Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! Stop!”
“Scarlet?”
“Please! You’re hurting me…”
“Scarlet, wake up.”
Hard hands jerked her shoulders and she threw a punch, trying to get away.
“Jesus fucking Christ. Goddammit. Scarlet, wake the fuck up!”
Scarlet opened her eyes, her heart pounding against her ribs like a jackhammer. Sweat and tears ran down her face, fear pulsing like a disease through her veins while her lungs burned for air.
When she looked up, Hunter was on top of her, straddling her while pinning her hands to the mattress.
“What the fuck, Scar?”
“Get off me!” she yelled, bucking and thrashing beneath him. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air.
“Not until you calm the fuck down.”
“Get off me, Hunter! Please. I can’t breathe.”
He loosened his hold on her hands and got off. Scarlet turned on her side and hung off the side of the bed when she started to vomit. Violent jerks wracked through her body, her stomach and heart both fighting for a way up her throat. It was like her body tried to get rid of the pain, the fear, the image of him, trying to expel the evil mark he left on her soul.
“Scarlet, are you okay?”
“I can’t go back to him.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I can’t go back to him. I just can’t.” She cried, her tears falling on the laminated floor, the wood darkening with her sorrow.
“Scarlet.” He crouched down in front of her and she looked up at him. The thought of him finding her, touching her, being that scared again was just too much for her to handle.
“Please don’t let him find me, Hunter” she whispered, tasting the saltiness of her tears. “Please.”
With both his hands Hunter wiped her hair out of her face and clutched her head behind her ears. “I promise you that I will not let him get near you, okay? I will keep you safe.”
She believed him. The way his eyes darkened, determination swirling in his green irises, she knew. Somehow she knew he would keep her safe. Whether it was her desperation that made her want to believe Hunter’s promise, or just plain wishful thinking, she didn’t care. All she cared about was that for the first time in years she had hope because of a promise Hunter had made.
The relief that flowed through her was so intense that she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight as she continued to sob into his neck. Halfway off the bed, she felt his arms wrap around her and pull her onto his lap.
She had no idea how long they remained there, how long he held her in his arms, how long she cried. But for the first time in years she allowed herself to embrace the pain, and to purge. Being held, being in his arms helped. It calmed her. It tamed the panic, and for the second time since she had met him, he managed to help her get a grip over her fear.
“You okay there?” he whispered while he stroked his fingers through her hair.
“Yeah.” She sniffed and sat up, feeling the way her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. This was what she was afraid of the whole time. Showing her vulnerable side. Showing Hunter how scared and weak she really was. “I’m fine.”
She pushed herself off the floor and grabbed her robe to cover up. That was when she realized that she had been naked the entire time she was glued to Hunter’s lap. Nice.
Hunter watched her with worried eyes. “Nightmare?”
“Yeah.”
He got off the ground, and she noticed he cringed while clutching his rib.
“What happened to you?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
She noticed a little blood on his nose and rushed toward him. “Hunter, your nose is bleeding.”
He wiped at it with his arm. “Oh, that was you.” He grinned.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You pack a mean punch, just like you said.”
Oh no. “I hit you?”
“You hit someone. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my face you saw when you threw that punch.”
He looked at her pointedly, like he was expecting an explanation—a discussion about what happened, about what or who she saw in her dreams. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t go there. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Placing her hand on her forehead, she sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Scar—”
“I need a drink.” Her head was pounding, her body was aching, and she needed to take the edge off. She brushed past him and darted out of the room, her heart still racing inside her chest. Somehow she knew that if she had to stay in that room with him any longer, she would spill every last detail of her hell. And she really didn’t want to.
“Scarlet, wait up.”
“Drop it, Ace.”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but you freaked the fuck out there. You were scared shitless of whatever the fuck you dreamt about.”
“No shit.” She spun around and he almost walked right into her. “I was there, remember?”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“How the fuck can you expect me to keep you safe when I don’t even know what I’m protecting you from?”
Scarlet opened the fridge and grabbed the first alcoholic beverage she could get her hands on. The tequila.
After gulping down a fair amount of alcohol, she slammed the bottle on the counter and glared at him standing only a few feet from her. “Then don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t protect me. Go. Leave. I can take care of myself.”
Not in the mood for any more of his “you need me” bullshit, she turned around, grabbed the tequila, and headed up the stairs back to the room. She needed space. She needed air. She needed a new fucking life. No matter how hard she tried, where she ran to, it always followed her—the pain, the torment, the reality of her past being so fucked up that she would never be able to escape it.
For hours she locked herself in the room, sitting on the deck, drinking the tequila, and just staring into space. She hardly noticed the ocean, the sun, the soft breeze on her skin. All she could think about, all she felt, was the entire fucked-up-ness that was her life.
And now there was Hunter, who had somehow managed to make her feel something again. She didn’t know what that something was, but it felt foreign to her, something she didn’t recognize. And she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to feel like that when it came to him. It felt way too reckless, even for her. Putting her trust in someone else, depending on someone else, only opened up doors for disappointment and more heartache. And that she didn’t want. There wasn’t anything left inside her to break. Nothing about her was whole anymore, which was why she couldn’t risk it. If she did, and it backfired, the only thing left to destroy was her fight to survive, and then there would be nothing left.
