Sweet As Sin

by Ana Jolene

  What the hell? Where’d he put it?

  She spotted another filing cabinet located on the other side of the desk. Had Matthew done some reorganizing around here and moved things over? Trying her luck, Maison quickly went around the desk to check. “Nope . . . Not it . . . Not it either . . . Where the hell is it?” she grumbled.

  A low groan made her yelp. She spun around. “Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark.

  Her attention was so focused on finding the missing files that she hadn’t realized she wasn’t the only person in the room. A hot hand wrapped around her calf, scaring the crap out of her. “Could you stop making so much noise?”

  Maison yelped in surprise and crashed against the front of the desk. How the hell had she not seen someone sprawled out on the chaise? She squinted in the darkness until a figure came into focus. “Hutch? What the hell are you doing here?”

  Another groan was her answer. Her heart gave a little lurch at seeing him so hapless before her. She moved to him, intending to sit beside him but she tripped when her foot caught on something on the floor. As she was launched forward, she braced herself for impact. But instead of feeling pain with the crash landing, she found herself pressed up against a hard, warm body. “Whoa,” she breathed. What the hell?

  Hutch gripping her hard and she became intensely aware of where their bodies touched. Her heart started a rhythmic pounding in her chest. Rich, brown eyes gazed at her and she promptly lost her ability to breathe.

  Wow. He had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. A deep chocolate in color, she’d never seen anything so arresting. Maison felt her body tighten.

  But it was also very clear that something was also wrong with him. “Hutch? Are you okay?” He didn’t look like it. In fact, he probably looked the worst she’d ever seen him. “What happened to you?”

  Instead of answering, he released her and settled back onto the couch, throwing one big forearm over his eyes. Maison could only stare down at him in puzzlement.

  It was then that she finally took in what she hadn’t before. Hutch had ditched his shirt sometime during the night, and now, his muscled torso and thick arms were on full display. His hair was mussed up from sleep and his jaw sported some sexy scruff that told her that he hadn’t shaved for days. He was by far the most disheveled thing in this ornate office, but Maison still couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

  Lowering to her knees, she reached out to gently touch his forehead. He didn’t look sick but he was a little sweaty and warm. There was no question that he was drunk. “What have you done to yourself?” she murmured as she slicked his hair back from his face and proceeded to check him over. That was when she realized that his lower leg was missing. “Where’s your prosthesis?”

  When another groan was her response, she rose to her feet and searched the room. She’d been so caught up by his proximity that it’d taken her a while to see what was wrong with him. Now she wondered what had happened to him that made him drink himself into a stupor.

  She’d only just begun to search for his prosthesis when Hutch reached out and grabbed a hold of her arm, pulling her until she was lying on top of him. “Hey, what the hell are you doing?” She pushed against his chest but his hold on her only tightened. “Let me go!”

  Momentary alarm kicked in, but then so did something else. Arousal hit her like a freight train when the sultry scent of his skin filled her nostrils. He smelled of something calming and uplifting, accompanied by fresh soap.

  She stiffened when he returned the gesture and dipped his head and sniffed her. His murmured words of “You smell good, you know” nearly undid her.

  “What?” Maison glanced down at him to find that his eyes were shut.

  She tried pushing off him again, but he wasn’t going to let her go. Did he really think she smelled good? God, why did she even care what he thought? It wasn’t like he’d ever go for a woman like her.

  Hutch Happa-Hewitt was a renowned rebel. A bad boy and a ladies’ man for sure. And yet in all the years that she’d known the guy, Hutch had always been a perfect gentleman to her. She knew it was because she wasn’t as pretty as all the other women he’d dated. Hell, Hutch had probably never looked twice at her. But she enjoyed imagining what it would be like pressed up against his hard body and have him look down at her with those dark, mysterious eyes.

  Maison shook her head. She needed to kick that daydream to the curb. It was never going to happen. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.

  She pushed hard at him but Hutch only gripped her tighter. “Let me go find your leg.”

  “No, stay with me.”

  Her eyes flew wide when his hand glided up her arms. Immediately, goose bumps sprouted all over her skin. Then, Hutch then drew his hands down, running them down her arms again. Maison stiffened. What the hell was he doing? Did Hutch think she was someone else?

  He had to be. That was why he was acting so strangely and probably why he’d gotten himself drunk. Had something happen to him with one of his lovers?

  Annoyance sprouted at that thought and she tried pushing off him. Her efforts only tangled them together further and their breaths mingled.

  Over her shoulder, she caught sight of an empty bottle of whiskey at the other end of the chaise. Oh God, had he drunk all of that himself?

  She forced herself to look down at him. “Hutch, it’s me. Maison. I’m not . . .” Her words sounded pathetic to her own ears. “I’m not whoever you think I am.” Not his girlfriend or whatever.

  She had no idea why she was suddenly in a bad mood. She didn’t want to acknowledge that she was jealous because that would mean that she actually thought she had a shot with him.

  “Hutch, I’m going to get help, okay?” He was clearly out of it and she wouldn’t be able to help him alone.

  His hands tightened around her and Maison felt her anxieties return in a rush. “No,” he growled. “Don’t leave me.”

  Oh God, he now had his arms around her hips! Could he feel how big she was? Could he feel how much extra weight she was carrying there? Mortification filled her but overriding that was her concern for him.

  “What happened to you?” she asked.

  When he refused to answer, Maison pursed her lips together. What else could she do to help him? She had no experience with this kind of stuff. In college, she had totally avoided parties and hardly ever drank. “Let me call your brother,” she said. Hunter would know what to do.

  “No! Don’t call him. I just want you.” Me? she thought. What the hell would he want with her? His voice sounded so fragile and broken that she refused to argue anymore with him.

  “Okay, fine. I won’t.”

  “Thank you.” Hutch seemed to relax a little bit. He even burrowed his head into her hair and let out a sigh. Maison froze as his mouth brushed her neck.

  Oh my God! Did he just kiss her?

  No, no, he hadn’t. He was just really close. But she now felt like her entire neck was on fire. What would it be like to be kissed by Hutch Happa-Hewitt?

  Since the first moment she’d set eyes on Hutch, she’d been enamored by his beauty, but Maison knew better than to believe that he’d have an interest in her. It still hadn’t stopped her from fantasizing about him.

  She’d be so helpless to him. There would be no denying entry; she knew she’d melt for him the first moment he’d touch her. Hell, even now just being in his arms was turning her into a pile of goo.

  If only he knew just how desperate she was for it. She wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to lay her out on this chaise and have his wicked way with her. God, even just thinking about it made her want to sigh! How much more titillating would it be knowing his father was just a few rooms down, waiting for her?

  “You feel amazing,” Hutch groaned.

  “Really?” She couldn’t hide her shock. No man had ever said that to her. She didn’t have the type of figure that men usually found attractive.

  Maison looked down at herself. Her big boobs were squished aga
inst his chest and her eyes went wide with fear. Oh God! Was she crushing him? She’d gained a few pounds recently. She doubted she felt light on top of him!

  “Stay,” he said again when she tried to push off him. “Please.” Rich, brown eyes drowned her.

  “No, I can’t do this! I’m heavy! I’m going to crush you!”

  “You’re not heavy, Maison.”

  She stiffened. Wait. So he knew it was her! Why then was he holding her like they were lovers, like someone he was comfortable with?

  “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” she pleaded. “At least tell me what you’re thinking.”

  His laugh surprised her. It was airy and light, and so different than his previous darker moods. “I think you can guess what I’m thinking.”

  Maison searched his face, noticing the dark glint in his eyes. Her body buzzed with electricity, shooting through her entire body. Oh my God! Did he mean—

  She let out a nervous laugh.

  Okay, this was so not what she was expecting. Whatever expression she had on her face had Hutch chuckling and her body responded to his deep laughter. “Okay, that’s enough.” She pushed off him but she accidentally grazed her hand over the hard ridge of his arousal. “Oh my God!” she squeaked as she pulled her hand back.

  Hutch chuckled again.

  “Stop doing that!” she snapped.

  “Doing what?”

  “Stop laughing. It . . . It’s . . . distracting.” It was turning her on, that was what.

  Maison straightened. “Okay, time to get out of here. I’ll help you up to bed.”

  “You don’t want to stay with me?”

  The truth was, she did. She was currently scared out of her mind, but she was also pretty sure Hutch was flirting with her. But then she remembered that he was also really, really drunk. Maybe he had no idea what the hell he was doing after all.

  “You’ll get over it once you’re in your own bed.” Ignoring his pout, Maison helped him up into a sitting position. It turned out to be a little more difficult than she expected, but once he was upright, Hutch couldn’t stop staring at her.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” He’d never looked at her like that before.

  He pointed at his crotch and the bulge beneath his jeans. “That’s for you, you know.”

  Maison felt her cheeks flush from embarrassment. Liar. She hated liars. And now she hated Hutch for playing with her.

  Even inebriated his flirting was lethal. She really hoped he forgot this conversation in the morning.

  “Stop it, you’re drunk.” And she didn’t appreciate how he was toying with her.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  Still, Maison couldn’t bear to leave him here alone so she helped him put his leg back on in awkward silence. Once she had him standing, she slung one arm over her shoulder.

  His father walked into the office. “What the hell is taking so long?” Matthew came to a stop as he caught sight of them. “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to him?”

  “He’s drunk.”

  “No, I’m not,” Hutch protested.

  Her boss’s gaze cut from his son to the empty bottle of whiskey behind them. “Did you drink all that?”

  Hutch hiccupped. “No.”

  “But you came into my office to drink what was left, right?”

  Hutch rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’ll buy you another bottle.” Despite her protests, he pushed off her and headed for the door by himself.

  “Hutch, wait!” Maison called out.

  But he only paused briefly by the door. “I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice softening only for her. A lank piece of dark hair fell into his eyes before he pushed it away. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  And with those words, he was gone.

  THREE

  Hutch Happa-Hewitt woke feeling like twin horns were sprouting from his temples, and he wasn’t exactly in an angelic mood either as he attempted to get up and realized that he was no longer in his father’s office anymore. What the hell? How did he get here?

  When the events of last night finally came back to him, he cursed. What the hell had he done? He clutched his pounding head as he thought of poor Maison. He’d acted like a complete lunatic with her! His father’s assistant would no doubt be terrified of him now that he’d been all over her.

  Last night clearly hadn’t been one of his best nights. Actually, he’d been in a crappy mood a lot lately since he learned that there was no possibility that he would be able to rejoin the Army, but last night had been particularly rough for him.

  Because he was more than a little drunk, he’d acted without really thinking. Now, he was regretting his behavior. Not only had he likely frightened Maison, but he’d probably confused her as well. He knew he’d said some things to her that he’d never said before. What did she think of him now? Was his behavior bad enough to change her opinion of him?

  Shit. He really shouldn’t have touched her. He’d hate it if she suddenly avoided him.

  Not that she seemed particularly fond of him to begin with. Every time he complimented her, she seemed to think he was lying to her. Why? He’d complimented many women before, but none of them ever look at him like she couldn’t believe his words.

  Hutch recalled his father and the words they’d exchanged. Ever since he’d come to live here with his father, their relationship had been strained. No matter how much time they spent together, they could never get along. Hutch felt like a prisoner in his own home where his every action was questioned and he was constantly being watched by his father or brother.

  It also didn’t help that he’d disappeared for a few days without telling anyone about his whereabouts so his family seemed to be watching him more intently now, possibly anticipating that he would try to leave them again. But where would he go?

  The only place he wanted to be was back in the Army, but that was never going to happen now after he’d lost his leg.

  Hutch pushed himself up until he was sitting. His body ached with every movement and his head felt like a sonic blast every time he tried to move.

  He needed coffee. Stat.

  He reached for his prosthetic leg, thankful that it wasn’t located halfway across the room this time. As he started the long process of putting it back on, he did his best to bite back the frustration. No use in bitching about what he couldn’t change. This was his life now. He just had to accept it.

  Still, a curse sat on the tip of his tongue as he started with the thick neoprene liner. He hated wearing the damn thing. It made him feel hot and sweaty and it often caused sores if he had it on for long periods of time. But again, it was a necessary nuisance if he wanted to walk around.

  After covering his leg with that, he popped on his prosthesis. Then, he slid on the long, elastic sleeve that extended up to his thigh before putting his pants on. After that, the rest of his clothes went on easier. He moved for the door.

  The stairs were a workout for his calves. He was breathing hard by the time he got into the kitchen and froze when he realized that he wasn’t the only one running late this morning. “What are you doing here?” he asked his father.

  Matthew shot him a glare over his coffee cup. “I live here,” he said simply. Okay, yeah. He knew that. Maybe that was a stupid question to ask. But at least now Hutch knew that his father was still pissed at him. “Sit down,” Matthew ordered.

  “Wait, I need some coffee first.” If he was going to get a tongue lashing, he wanted to be prepared first. “Last night nearly killed me.”

  “That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about.”

  Uh oh. Here we go. “Look, last night was just—”

  “You need to get a job,” Matthew interrupted.

  “A job?” What the hell? Of all the things he expected his father to say, he wasn’t expecting that. “Why?” he asked. He wasn’t exactly broke. In the Army, he’d been making good coin and he hadn’t really had time to spend any of it since coming to Moonrise Beach.


  “To give you something to do,” his father answered. “You can’t just stay at home and mope around.”

  “Mope around? I’m not moping.” Okay, maybe last night he’d been but—

  “Here’s what I propose,” Matthew announced as if he were in a business meeting. “Since I think having a job is so important, I’ll let you move out if you get one.”

  Hutch blinked at his father. What the—“Really?” He’d let him leave? That was what he wanted from the very first moment his brother had dragged him here in the first place.

  Matthew nodded. “Yes. But you need a job first.”

  “Okay, fine.” Get a job. How hard could that be?

  “But I don’t want you to work at any old place,” his father said. “I want you to come to work at Gleam with me.”

  “What?” Hutch was already shaking his head. “No. No way.” There was no way he was going to work for his father! As the CEO of Gleam Enterprises, it would be so easy for his father to get him a good position. But Hutch didn’t want that or the attention he’d get if he started working there. He had enough on his plate to deal with already. “Why can’t I find my own place to work at?”

  Matthew shook his head. “That’s the deal. If you work at Gleam then you can live wherever you want.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t really sound like a good deal to me.” Either way, his father would be breathing down his neck!

  “Sorry, but I have to keep an eye on you somehow.”

  “Dad, I’m fine. I’m just—”

  “We both know you’re not fine. You’re heartbroken and still adjusting to civilian life. It’s not an abnormal thing to experience that after everything you’ve—”

  “Stop. I know exactly what I’ve been through.” He saw it every night in his dreams and didn’t need a reminder. “But I can find my own job, thank you very much.”

  Matthew shrugged and turned away. “Guess you’ll be living here for a while longer then.”