by Hope Jones
She nodded and waved him off before heading back into the living room.
“Come on, babe,” Huxley coaxed, holding his hand out to me.
I sighed.
Damn, even his hands were nice.
I wondered what his hands would feel like in my panties.
Wait, I wasn’t wearing any. I tended to not wear them normally, but especially if I was wearing leggings, which I was.
“Fuckin’ A, babe. You’ve got to shut up,” he growled, stalking toward me.
Shit, did I say all that out loud?
“Yup. Time to go,” he said, tugging on my arm and heading for the front door.
Well shit.
Four
Panic Button
MY HEAD WAS already pounding, and I hadn’t even opened my eyes. Unfortunately for me, my hangover didn’t extend to my memory. If I hadn’t been able to remember my stupidity from last night, this morning would be much easier to handle.
But nope.
I remembered everything.
God, I was such an idiot.
Huxley’s arm was wrapped around my waist like a steel band, but I really needed to pee, brush my teeth, and get a shower. A shower would help with the ache that was imbedded deep in my skull. I was sure I had horrid morning breath too, and I really didn’t want Hux smelling that.
I tried to pry his arm from around my waist, but it only made him stir. I stilled and waited for a moment to see if he was awake. When he didn’t speak, I tried again, but this time his hand dragged me closer. He nuzzled the back of my neck and ground his morning wood against my ass.
Fuck, I was so weak.
I wanted to touch him, despite the headache and the morning breath.
“Hux, I need to get up,” I whispered, pushing thoughts of us together, like that, aside.
“Mm-hm,” he groaned into my hair, but he didn’t let go of the iron grip he had on my hip.
I pulled against him again, but he hauled me back into him.
Shit, but I really needed to pee.
“Hux,” I pled.
“Give me a minute, baby,” he mumbled, his response muffled in my hair.
“Hux,” I warned. I was gonna start doing the pee-pee dance in a second, because I really, really needed to go.
Huxley lifted his head, kissed my neck right below my ear, and whispered, “Come back when you’re done.”
When his grip loosened, I rushed out of bed and into my en suite bathroom. Quick as I could, I relieved my bladder and went to the sink to brush my teeth and wash my face. I didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that the minimal makeup I had worn last night was smeared all over the place.
Cracking the door as quietly as possible, I peeked in my room and saw Hux lying on his stomach, the sheet covering up what I knew was an incredible ass. His face was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see if he was awake. I decided to take my chances and sneak out of the bedroom, because there was no way in hell I was going back to bed with him.
Grabbing the silk robe on the back of my bathroom door, I put it on and made my way to the door. I stepped on one of the creaky floorboards and paused, hoping like hell he didn’t hear it. When I turned around, his eyes were still closed.
I guess he fell back asleep.
Thank God.
I breathed a sigh of relief and continued quietly to my bedroom door, being careful of the floorboards. I really needed to carpet this room instead of having hardwood floors. It would help a lot in my escape attempts from Huxley if he decided to stick around after being rejected a hundred times.
“Phoebe.”
My name came off his lips like a warning.
I stilled.
Maybe he was having a dream. Maybe if I stood really still, he wouldn’t wake up.
I held my breath, sending a silent prayer up that he was just having a dream.
“As much as you’d like, you aren’t invisible, babe. Come here,” he said, his voice sounding alert and awake.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
Huxley was lying on his side, his elbow on the bed, his head resting in his hand. My cream sheets were pooled around his waist, leaving his chest bare. The smattering of hair between his pecs lightly trailed down to never-never land. He also had a scar on his right shoulder that I didn’t notice yesterday, because I was stupefied by his nudity in his kitchen. The scar solidified why we couldn’t be together. It looked like a gunshot wound and reminded me how dangerous his job was.
Even if I were to decide I could have a happily ever after, it couldn’t be with him.
“I’d really like to get a cup of coffee, Hux,” I insisted, pulling my robe tighter against me, like it was a cape that could protect me from him.
“You want a repeat of yesterday morning?” he questioned with a knowing smile on his face.
My cheeks heated, remembering the feel of him between my legs, his hot breath on my neck, and his whispered words. Maybe it would be best for me to go to him. I could sit on the edge of the bed and he could say what he needed. Nodding, I moved toward him timidly.
With my ass planted on the very, very edge of the bed, I snapped, “What?”
I was snapping and grumbling at him so much he was going to think I was a bitch, but if that was what it took to get him to stay away from me, I would take it.
“So grumpy,” he whispered as he leaned forward quick as shit and pulled me on top of him. Letting out a little shriek of surprise, I braced my hands against his muscular chest and fought against the tingles that shot down my arms.
Well, this was a compromising position.
“Hux! Let me up,” I growled, fighting against him.
I wasn’t sure why I was fighting. It was futile, since he was a lot stronger than me. Judging by his massive chest, thick arms, and bulging muscles, he probably worked out a lot more than me too... especially since my workout consisted of hoofing it up and down my stairs.
In one swift movement, I was flat on my back with Huxley over top of me, his hands holding my wrists above my head, and his hips settled between my now open legs.
“Stop fighting,” he barked, his tone making me still. “It’s time to talk.” Frustration leaked from his every pore.
It was safe to say he had gotten tired of my avoidance tactics. He had to know it would come to this though. I had repeatedly told him no. No to going out. No to being his. No to anything that had anything to do with him and me.
“I don’t really want to.”
“Didn’t ask,” he replied.
“What could we possibly have to talk about? I made it clear we weren’t going out last night. You can’t blame me for going to Millie’s house to hide from you.”
“We’ll get to that. I wanna know why you didn’t take your panic button when you left,” he questioned, letting go of my wrists.
Oh!
Shit.
I had forgotten about that.
The red panic button that was sitting in my silverware drawer was supposed to go with me whenever I left the house. Huxley told me yesterday to put it in my purse, pocket, or whatever.
“I forgot about it. I was kinda in a hurry to get out of here. Why is it so important? If something happens, I can just call you.”
“Has a GPS tracker in it. If you get into a situation where you can’t talk on the phone, you push that button and my men will be there as soon as they can. We can track your phone, but if it gets smashed, you’re fucked. No one is gonna be looking for a small panic button.”
My mouth formed an O and realization dawned on me. He wasn’t just pissed that I hid from him and our dinner. He was pissed, because he was concerned for me.
Boom.
There went one of my walls.
It crumbled.
Fuck.
I was in serious trouble. Dammit. Luckily, I still had a few more, but if he crumbled one in two days, it wouldn’t take long to crumble the rest.
“You were worried about me.” My hand moved of its own accord and cradled his fa
ce before sliding in his hair.
“Uh, yeah,” he deadpanned.
“So, you weren’t mad about dinner?” I asked meekly.
“Oh, I didn’t say that.” He smiled devilishly. I felt that smile all the way in my nipples.
“How mad are you, exactly?” I hesitated. I really shouldn’t have asked that, but it was too late now.
“Not as mad as last night. Seeing you in those sexy lace panties helped a little,” he said, smiling like the cat who got the canary.
My cheeks heated again but from mortification.
Last night, when we got to my house, Hux carried me up the stairs like I was as light as a feather. He set me down by the bed and told me to hold tight for a minute. When he walked out of my room, I changed into some lace panties and a tight camisole. I proceeded to face-plant diagonally across my bed on top of my comforter as I always did, leaving my ass on display. When he returned to the bedroom holding a glass of water and two pills, he groaned.
“It’s becoming a habit to leave little to the imagination with you, isn’t it?” I mused, throwing my arm over my eyes to hide my embarrassment. Somehow, Hux had seen more of me than any man in months, and we hadn’t even had sex.
“It’s a habit I don’t mind, baby,” he told me, extracting my arm and dipping his face into my neck.
Embarrassed, I decided to change topics. I did not want to talk about my half-nakedness anymore.
“Dinner tonight? To make up for last night?”
Why the fuck did I just ask him that? Wasn’t I trying to avoid him at all costs? I blamed it on the hangover and lack of coffee.
“It’ll have to be later in the evening. I’ve got to sit down with one of the Disciples’s lieutenants to try to work something out.”
I considered questioning him on his meeting but decided against it. I was trying to act like there wasn’t any doom surrounding me so I didn’t lose my marbles.
“Okie dokie,” I chirped.
Yup, chirped.
Apparently, I was chipper even though my life was in danger.
Ignorance was bliss, I guessed.
Hux dropped his forehead to my chest and chuckled so lightly I almost didn’t hear him. What a beautiful sound it was though. Internally sighing, I relished in the sound. It would be incredible to hear that every morning. I’d be willing to bet I wouldn’t have any issues waking up.
“Can we get up now? I need some coffee and pain pills, pronto,” I told him.
“Kiss,” he replied.
I cocked my head and stared at him in a questioning gaze.
“Gimme a kiss,” he clarified for me.
When I didn’t immediately lean up to kiss him, he whispered, “Okay then,” and leaned down to me. His lips touched mine, and I moaned out loud. He was soft at first, then more demanding. His tongue snaked out and touched my bottom lip, asking for entrance. I granted him access and he delved in. He tasted like mint, and I swore that would be my favorite flavor for the rest of my life, short or long. My hands roamed and my nails scored his back, eliciting a moan that I swallowed.
He tore his mouth from mine and looked down at me with more than a little hunger.
“Fuck, if you kiss like that, I can’t imagine what other things will be like with you,” he growled, grinding into me, causing me to whimper.
I didn’t really need to get up, did I? We could stay in bed all day and explore each other.
Before I could voice my thoughts, Hux jumped off me and strolled to the bathroom like that kiss was nothing.
“Taking a shower, babe,” he called out casually.
Jesus, he put me into a Hux Fog again. The fog was dangerous, and I could easily forget who I was, who he was, and just fall into feelings without thinking about the consequences. After the fog lifted, I jumped out of bed and hightailed it downstairs. I needed coffee to wake me up and possibly help my headache. Caffeine could cure lots of things. Lust, unfortunately, wasn’t one of them.
Hux came out of the shower ten minutes later, looking refreshed. He was wearing the same jeans and black tee he had on yesterday, but his hair didn’t look like I had run my fingers through it. I made him a cup while he was upstairs, but he told me that he had to take it to go or he’d be late to the office.
We did the same thing as yesterday afternoon, me walking him to the door, him kissing me stupid, and him vanishing.
Well shit.
Now, I had to make a grocery list for dinner tonight, call John, call Millie, and then head to the store. At least I would be too busy to think about everything that happened this morning.
Five
Sticky Situations
IT HAPPENED WHEN I was on my way back home from the grocery store.
It was after I called John and told him that Huxley Carson was willing to give us an exclusive piece about a cartel trying to move into East Haven and his career in the FBI and why he left, if I stopped working on it independently. I didn’t give him any details on why I was halting the investigation—I did pinky swear to secrecy—and he didn’t ask. I’d been working with East Haven Daily for about six years, and John knew how I worked. I’d never disappointed the paper before, and he knew that wouldn’t change. He gave me the green light on the Hux interview.
Afterward, I called Millie to check on her and make sure she didn’t choke on her own vomit or have a terrible headache. She assured me she was good and I didn’t need to bring anything to her. She tried grilling me about what happened with Hux last night, but I was vague. I conned my way off the phone by telling her that I had to cook dinner tonight.
I had shopped my way through all the food aisles, and my small BMW was packed to the gills. I decided on meatloaf—Hux seemed like a meat man—steamed sweet carrots, mashed potatoes, and a cherry pie. I, of course, had to buy the cherry pie premade, because I was a terrible baker. I could cook all day long and my food would taste like a little slice of heaven, but I couldn’t bake to save my life. For Thanksgiving, if we didn’t go to Millie’s parents’ house, she would always bake the dessert and I cooked the main course. It worked for us.
I was on my way home when I noticed a black SUV that looked very similar to one I swore I saw at the grocery store as I was loading my bags into my car, staying two or three cars behind me, but it followed me with every turn I made. I was close to home, but my gut told me not to pull into my driveway. I kept driving and took some wrong turns intentionally, but the SUV was still back there.
My hands started to shake, and my heart beat a mile a minute. I was almost having a panic attack. After everything Hux told me, I felt like I had good reason to be internally freaking out.
I brought my panic button, because Hux made such a big deal about it, and I didn’t want him worried or pissed like he was last night. I wasn’t sure if this was enough of an emergency to hit the red button, but I needed to do something, because I couldn’t shake this SUV. Something didn’t feel right. My gut was telling me something was wrong.
Deciding Hux was the best option, instead of hitting the panic button, I hit his number on the screen of my dashboard. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, babe, can’t talk right now. I’m heading to that meeting,” he said, and I heard what sounded like locks beep in the background. He was probably unlocking his car, ready to head off.
I bit my lip. “Okay, it’s probably nothing. I’ll see you when you get to my place tonight.” I rushed out my words, trying my hardest to keep the panic out of my tone.
I didn’t want him distracted when this meeting could mean life or death for me.
“What’s wrong?” he barked, his entire demeanor changing from lighthearted and breezy to now worried and a little bit angry.
“Really, I’m fine. You need to worry about the meeting,” I said, forcing a chuckle for good measure.
“Phoebe,” he warned in that voice that made me listen.
“It’s just… this car has been following me for the last ten minutes. I went to the store and got stuff for
dinner tonight, and I noticed it a few minutes after I pulled out of the parking lot.”
A quick look in my rearview mirror confirmed the SUV was still behind me.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
It really should have turned off the road by now. Realization kicked in that this wasn’t just someone happening to go the same way as me. The SUV was intentionally following me.
“Make and model,” Hux growled.
Clearly, anger was winning out with his emotions, ‘cause he was not happy.
“It’s a black SUV, maybe a Tahoe? It doesn’t look old, but it’s definitely not the newest model. Maybe a 2010 or ‘11?” I asked, even though it should have been a statement. In my defense, I was seriously freaking out.
He barked at someone, something about my tracker, and then he came back and said, “Baby, where are you? We’re trying to pull up your tracker, but there must be a signal blocker.”
Wasn’t that just the best news I had ever heard? I brought the damn tracker but it was useless.
“I don’t know, on Road 57, close to my house. I didn’t want to go by my house, because something felt off.” Panic was lacing my tone, and I couldn’t conceal it anymore. “Hux, I’m worried,” I whispered.
Why I trusted Huxley with my life was beyond me. I just knew I could.
“I know, baby. You’re doing good. Don’t panic and keep your cool,” he soothed.
“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled.
“All right, babe, we’ve got your tracker back. I’m gonna lead you to my office, but I need you to keep it together until then, okay?” His voice had lost the anger and turned sweet. Was I the only one panicking?
“Okay,” I breathed, sitting up straighter and steeling my resolve. I could do this.
“You’re coming up on a left turn, take it. It’ll lead you to 221, which is a straight shot to my office. Don’t stop before you turn. Yield, look quickly, and turn,” he told me in a calm-as-hell voice that was so different from how he usually spoke and only heightened my fear and nerves.
I looked to make sure no cars were barreling toward me and took my turn, my sweaty palms almost causing my hands to slip off the wheel.
