She blinked. She’d never met his family, never even heard about them because he didn’t talk about them. Not even once. And yet now he was asking her to go with him. She didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yes, sure. I’d love to come.”
“Good.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder. “Better check that sauce. I think it’s burning.”
“I have a question.”
Hunter handed Ellie a helmet. “What?”
“Actually I have two. Question number one. Why are we going to the wedding on a bike?”
“Because my Dad hates bikes.”
“Uh huh. Fair enough. Question number two. Why did you ask me?”
“Isn’t it a little late to be asking that one?”
“I know, but I didn’t want you to change your mind if I asked. So I’m leaving it till the last minute.” Her gaze was steady but her hands were fiddling with the black helmet. Nervous.
She probably wanted him to tell her it was because he wanted her there.
But the truth was he quite honestly didn’t. He’d been straight with Vin when he’d told his friend he didn’t want Ellie anywhere near his toxic family. And if he was fair, he would never have asked her. Yet he owed Vin. And, a deeper need he didn’t want to acknowledge, the thought of having her by his side was comforting somehow. Reassuring.
He remembered coming to watch her the night after he’d left home. Feeling broken inside, the shards of himself only partially put back together by Vin’s trust in him. Ellie had only turned ten, and her face when she’d opened the front door to see him on the threshold—her smile had shone a light into the dark places of his soul. She’d been the only one who’d ever wanted him for himself. The only one who’d never taken anything from him. And a deep part of him couldn’t quite let go of that.
“I asked you because I could use the company, sweetness. Why else?”
The look on her face relaxed suddenly and she smiled. The smile he remembered.
God, she was beautiful. It was still a constant surprise that he’d never realised exactly how beautiful. Today she’d gone lighter on her usual black mascara and eyeliner, shading her eyes with glittering metallic silver. It matched her dress, some kind of tight silver mini dress worn beneath another dress made entirely out of black lace. Ripped black fishnets and platform boots.
“You look beautiful.”
Ellie blinked at him. Then that delicate flush, the one he was starting to recognise so well, crept up her neck, over her cheeks, staining her pale skin. Her smile turned shy and not a little bit pleased, an even more rare and precious thing. “Oh thank you.” She put the helmet down on the bike and turned to him, coming closer. “You’re not half bad yourself.” Her hand lifted to the neck of his plain white shirt, touching the top button he’d left undone. “No tie?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
The corner of her mouth, lushly painted in lipstick so dark it may as well have been black, quirked. “Of course. Good thing no tie suits you.” Her fingers brushed lightly over the bare skin of his throat.
A week or so ago he would have hated a touch like that. Now he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her wrist and holding her hand there, letting the feeling of her fingers on his skin settle down through him.
For the past four days now they’d fallen back into their old relationship, partly because he’d wanted to get his bearings a bit and partly because Ellie had pulled back, giving him the space he’d requested. Just as well. The last thing that needed to happen was another fucking flashback where he’d hurt her. Like he had when she’d tried to go down on him.
Jesus, he’d tried not to feel guilty about pulling her hair. Tried to do his normal thing of pretending nothing had happened. That he didn’t like women giving him blowjobs. But of course he couldn’t. Because when Ellie had nearly put her mouth on him all he’d been able to see was Liz’s face, her eyes glazed with lust. Her voice, thick with desire, telling him this would feel good. That he’d like it. And all the shame and guilt had come rushing back. Shame and guilt inextricably entwined with lust. And anger, always anger. All the emotions a seventeen-year-old boy wasn’t supposed to feel because a seventeen-year-old boy should love an older woman sucking him off.
So he’d jerked Ellie away because he didn’t want her associated with those emotions. Didn’t want to have her mouth on him while all he saw was Liz. He needed space. Time to think things through and make sure the past was firmly where it belonged. In the past.
Ellie glanced up at him, a bright flash of silver. He heard her breath catch then watched as her lashes fell, her gaze on her fingers at his throat.
Shit, he was over having space. He wanted to touch her again. Taste her again.
Be inside her…
Desire kicked hard inside him and he wished, not for the first time, that he didn’t have to go to Justin’s fucking wedding. But of course he did because to do otherwise would be to admit something was wrong. And nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.
“Come on, sweetness,” he said, his voice rough-edged. “We’d better get going, otherwise we’ll be late.
Ellie leaned her elbows on the table and took another look around the brilliantly lit hotel ballroom. Over the years she’d picked up that Hunter’s family was well off, but she hadn’t realised quite how well off until she’d walked into the reception at one of Auckland’s most expensive hotels. French champagne. Crystal glasses. An ocean of white roses and expensive scented candles. Nearly a whole bloody orchestra providing the atmosphere. Designer gowns everywhere she looked and conversation of the mergers and acquisitions kind.
Clearly the Chase family wasn’t only well off, they were freaking loaded, not to mention moving in what were obviously influential social circles. Interesting when Hunter was almost the complete opposite. He’d never cared about money or social status or image. In fact, she could remember arguments he’d had with Vin when he’d been totally scathing about such things. Which made watching him with his family fascinating.
Ellie propped her chin in her hands, staring across the tables scattered throughout the ballroom to the bar set up at one end of it. Hunter had gone off to get a beer and had been waylaid by his father. She couldn’t stop staring at Hunter. Black suit, white shirt, simple and austere as a priest. Yet there was nothing priest-like about the aura of darkness and intensity that surrounded him. An elemental danger that had more than a few women casting glances in his direction. It made her want to touch him as she had before they’d left. Run her hands over his warm, tanned skin…
She picked up her wine glass and took another sip of the expensive champagne, suddenly dry-mouthed with want. The past four days she’d tried hard to give him the space he’d asked for, but going back to their old relationship had been difficult. Especially considering she’d thought she’d never have to deal with all the little sister crap again. Like all the heat and desire between them had never happened. A problem when it only made her want to get closer to him. Cross the distance he kept putting between them.
On the other side of the room, Hunter shook his head at something his father said, his whole posture broadcasting unease. Ellie frowned. She’d noticed his discomfort earlier, when they’d first arrived. In fact, now she thought about it, the whole evening he’d been radiating a kind of wary expectation, like a solider in enemy territory, constantly on the lookout for attack. His father too, although outwardly pleasant, had been stiff. Very formal and precise, asking her tight questions about “Vincent” and how the business was doing. As if he couldn’t have found that out from Hunter.
Ellie’s frown deepened as she watched the interaction. Hunter was smiling but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. It looked more savage than anything else.
How weird. There was a funny dynamic going on in the Chase family, that was for sure, and it made her curious to find out what. Mainly because any insight into what made Hunter tick would be welcome.
“You’re fascinated by him, aren’t you?”
Ellie turned abruptly in her seat as Elizabeth Chase, Philip’s second wife, sat down beside her. An exquisite ice-blonde in her late forties or early fifties, Elizabeth was clearly much younger than her husband and had trophy wife written all over her. She wore a simple wrap dress in ice blue that was simultaneously modest and yet managed to show off every inch of her perfect figure.
“Fascinated by who?” Ellie asked, feigning innocence. There was something about the woman she didn’t much like, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.
Elizabeth gave her a knowing smile. “Hunter, sweetheart. Oh come on, it’s obvious. You haven’t been able to take your eyes off him all evening.”
Ellie shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “He’s a friend.”
“I think he’s more than that, isn’t he?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Does he know you’re in love with him?”
Cold shock crept down Ellie’s spine. “I’m not in love with him,” she said, far too fast, the words echoing in a way she didn’t want them to.
Elizabeth merely smiled as if Ellie had proved a point. “Of course not.”
Ellie wanted to keep protesting, but she knew it would only dig the hole she was in even deeper. She grabbed her wine glass again and took another sip. “I think he’s hot, that’s all.”
The other woman glanced over the ballroom toward where Hunter and his father stood. “Of course he is. But be careful of him, my dear. He’s a dangerous man. And you’re…well, you’re a little young for him.”
“I’m twenty-five,” Ellie said, probably pointlessly.
“That’s young. Believe me, I know.” Elizabeth kept her gaze on the two men across the room. “He was your babysitter, wasn’t he?”
Ellie stared at the other woman. Where was she going with this? “Uh, yeah. He did on occasion. Not anymore, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“I’m sorry, is there something you wanted to say to me?”
Elizabeth lifted an elegant shoulder. “Only that you should be careful not to get hurt. His tastes don’t usually run to younger women.”
How the hell would she know what Hunter’s tastes were? And, more to the point, why did she care? The woman was starting to sound like a jealous ex-girlfriend. “Well, thanks for the tip,” Ellie said, not sure what else to say. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
At that moment a hand settled on her shoulder, warm and not a little possessive. She went still, knowing without having to turn, that it was Hunter.
“There a problem, Liz?” His voice had a sharp edge to it she’d never heard before, and she couldn’t help glancing up at him. His expression was set, hard. And something glittered in his eyes. Something dark.
Elizabeth appeared to be unfazed by his apparent unfriendliness. “No, of course not, Hunter. I was only saying hello to Ellie here. She’s certainly grown up, hasn’t she? Seems like only yesterday you were babysitting her.”
The hand on Ellie’s shoulder tightened, the tension in the air almost palpable. “Not yesterday. Not for the past ten years.”
“Ten years? Well, doesn’t time fly?”
A look passed between the two of them, a look Ellie couldn’t interpret. There were undercurrents here. A complex mix of anger and hostility and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. The intensity of it scared her.
“Hey, Hunter,” she said, attempting to sound bright and casual. “I feel like dancing. What do you say?”
“Yes, Hunter, do go and dance,” Elizabeth agreed. “Then you can ask me afterwards.”
“I don’t want to dance with you,” he said with so much flat certainty that Ellie blinked.
But Elizabeth didn’t. She only smiled again. “Don’t be silly, darling. Of course you do. You have to, anyway. Not to do so would be rude and you wouldn’t want to be rude, would you?” She gave him a calm, level stare that Ellie found unnerving. “I suppose I can’t force you though. Perhaps I’ll sit here with Ellie and fill her in on some embarrassing stories about you.”
Hunter’s fingers dug into Ellie’s shoulder, his grip hurting, and she had to stifle a gasp. “Actually,” she forced out, striving for a normal voice, for some reason unwilling to let on to this woman what effect her seemingly innocuous words were having. “I’d rather dance than listen to stories.” She reached up, put her hand over Hunter’s, felt how cold his fingers were. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Yes, go.” Elizabeth fluttered her fingers at them. “You heard the girl. Dance. Don’t stay here on my account.”
Beneath her hand, Hunter’s grip mercifully eased. Getting to her feet, Ellie twisted around, keeping hold of his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Then she led him away from the table and over to the dance floor, suddenly worried and not sure why. The interchange with Elizabeth had seemed harmless yet…those undercurrents she’d sensed were in no way harmless.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she put her hands on his shoulders, drawing close. It was a relatively slow song, which gave her the perfect reason to touch him.
His face looked carved from marble, hard and cold. Only his black eyes seemed to have any life. A stranger’s eyes. Full of anger.
“Nothing,” he said. He wasn’t even looking at her, his gaze off over her shoulder.
“So you nearly broke my damn shoulder over nothing?”
At that he looked sharply back at her. Then he stopped dancing and pulled aside the neck of the black lace over-dress, examining her. “Jesus Christ.” His voice was low, rough. He touched her skin gently, and she couldn’t help shivering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”
Ellie eased away from him, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I’m okay, I wanted to know what the deal with you and Elizabeth is.”
“No big deal, it’s only that we’ve never got on.” Hunter reached for her again, warm hands spreading over hips, pulling her close as they began to dance.
Tension eased inside her. Oh, she’d missed being close to him these past four days. Missed it so much. “Do you get on with anyone in your family?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You never talk about them. And you’re all so weird with each other. In fact, it’s like you don’t want to be here.”
“I don’t want to be here. And no, if you must know, I don’t get on with any of them.”
“Why not?”
Hunter looked down at her. “I thought you weren’t going to ask questions.”
“Hey, how was I supposed to know your family was out of bounds? Anyway, you have to expect a few questions, considering you invited me to this wedding.”
For a long moment he didn’t say anything, his long, powerful body moving to the music with hers. Beneath her hands, she could still feel that unease in him, his muscles tight with it.
“Hunter,” she said softly. “What is it?”
“My family is fucking difficult. That’s all I can say.”
But she could see the walls in his black eyes. So thick and deep. He was protecting himself. Distancing himself. His family was more than “difficult”, she’d bet anything on it.
Frustration coiled low inside her. God, she didn’t like not knowing what the problem was. It made her feel powerless, and she hated feeling powerless. Like watching her mother’s episodes and knowing there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do to stop the madness. Or seeing Vin work himself to the bone because their mother couldn’t hold down a job and someone had to keep the family together.
Powerless and insignificant. Christ, how she hated that.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “Hey, why don’t we get out of here? You’ve shown your face, surely that’s all you need to do.”
“No.”
“Why not? When you don’t want to be here?”
“Because it’s only family bullshit, Ellie. I can handle it.”
“If it’s only family bullshit then why do you look like you want to murder someone?”
His gaze sl
id away. “You know families.”
Evasion. Evasion and distance. She bit down on the instinctive need to push him. Really, she should be grateful she’d gotten this far with him, not pushing him for more.
“Yeah, boy, do I ever,” she said. “I want to kill Vin on a regular basis.”
“He cares about you, sweetness. Cut him some slack.”
So, he was in big brother mode again. Jesus, that was all she ever seemed to get from him. Either big brother or silent lover. Ellie stared up into his face, at the perfect line of cheekbone and jaw. The curve of his mouth. The deep black of his eyes. “You really don’t know how to deal with me sometimes, do you?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean now I’m back to being Vin’s little sister to you, aren’t I? Despite what I said. That’s how you’re most comfortable with me. You can’t seem to cope when I step outside the box. When I ask you questions you don’t want to answer or act in a way you don’t want me to act.”
For a long second his gaze focused on her with an intensity that took her breath away. “It’s a little difficult to know how to treat you when you don’t seem to know what you want from me either. First it’s sex, next you’re asking me all these bloody questions. Perhaps you’d better make up your mind which it’s going to be.”
Ellie bit her lip hard, hating that he was right. She’d thought it was only about sex, but then that had proved far more complicated than she’d ever imagined. Shit, he was more complicated than she’d ever imagined.
“What about if I want both?”
The look on his face didn’t change. “Sorry, sweetness. Both is not an option.”
And deep inside her, a small tendril of hope, one she hadn’t even known was there till now, shriveled up and died. She swallowed, ignoring the anguish that followed. “Do I even get a choice?”
His eyes glittered in the light. “No.”
“So it’s sex or nothing?”
“Pretty much.”
For a second she really wanted to say nothing. But she’d had nothing before and that had sucked so badly she didn’t want to go back. “Then I guess it’ll have to be sex.”
Taking Him (Lies We Tell) Page 11
