“It’s your past isn’t it, princess? It matters.”
With a shake of my head, I manage not to fall prey to the compelling look in his eyes. I’ve had too many close calls with Hunter and he definitely knows too much about me already. “None of it matters.”
“It does to me.”
I lean back against the bench and admire the view. “Hunter, you’re a real rarity, you know that?”
I close my eyes and savour his laugh. He might be curious about my past but as far as I’m concerned, it’s better where it is. I won’t be sharing any of the sordid details with him any time soon. For today, I’m just a normal girl and he is… well, he’s Hunter, and it’s a beautiful Sunday and I’m going to enjoy it, just this once.
***
Hunter
By late afternoon, I still have nothing from her. Every time I think she’s going to open up to me, she clams up. We shared a late lunch in a café on the outskirts of the city. The atmosphere was too intimate for my liking but perfect for persuading her to tell me everything. Every time she crossed her legs, they brushed mine and it took all my willpower to keep throwing her over my shoulder and taking her home to ravish her. I scrape a hand through my hair as we wait for a car to pass before walking over to my bike in the busy car park. Some investigator I am. I probably could have got more from her if I hadn’t been thinking about how much I wanted to kiss her again.
And I should never have done it in the first place. I don’t even know what came over me. She took off the helmet and excitement blazed in her eyes, the thrill of the ride coursed through her veins just as it did me. With her hair mussed, her lips parted, she looked like perfection and I was lost. I have this God-awful feeling she’s the same as me. Focused, determined, yet loves the buzz of freedom. A crazy concoction. A compelling, irresistible one.
Fuck.
I help her with the helmet, unable to resist. She beams at me. Those green eyes sparkle and guilt swirls in my gut. Crazy, maybe, but also totally guileless. And growing more open with every second. I smirk to myself as I put on my own helmet. Poor girl. No idea I’m out to screw her over. She’s put all this effort into hiding and I’m planning to blow it wide open. I scowl. When did I start feeling sorry for her?
I get on the bike and she climbs on behind me. Her hold is tighter now, another indication of her growing trust. Jess’s hands hover too close to my crotch for my liking. I grit my jaw, start up the bike and ease out of the car park. Her long legs frame me perfectly—too perfectly. As I navigate the darkening streets, images pollute my mind. Golden skin, parted lips, Jess’s dark hair tousled and slightly damp. Plunging into her until she screams my name.
Godammit, now I’m hard. When have I ever had such difficulty controlling myself? My whole livelihood is at stake here. I need to get a fucking hold of myself.
I pull up outside the Peckham apartment block and turn the engine off. A long breath escapes me. The torture is about to end but I still have very little from her. The thought that I should just take her to bed and fuck her secrets from her skitters through my mind but I haven’t sunk that low yet.
We get off the bike and she hands me the helmet. Against the sandy concrete and wide single-pane windows of the ugly building she looks ridiculously exotic and out of her place. How does a gorgeous girl like her end up in a dump like this?
I clench a fist. By having a shit ton of secrets, that’s how. None of which can be good. That’s why you don’t want to get involved with her, remember? The dragging sensation in my gut tells me I’m already involved—that maybe I was lost the moment I kissed her or perhaps even when she first locked her gaze onto mine.
She stares up at me, lips moving slightly as if unable to articulate what she wants to say. I stare down at her and fight the temptation to kiss those silent words away. Why am I finding it so hard to remain professional about this? I’ve been on worse cases than this. Missing person cases are my specialty and can be nasty at times because often there’s a legit reason the person doesn’t want to be found—reasons the average person doesn’t even want to think about. So I do my job and forget about it. If I stressed over every case like I am with this one, I’d be old and grey and probably on my damned deathbed.
I smirk as she pulls her hair from its messy bun and runs her hands through it before redoing it. Goddamn I’m probably close to my deathbed already. My cock presses against my trousers, the ache renewed.
“So… thanks for today and well… for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
She shoves her hands inside the leather jacket and her eyes round briefly. “Oh, this is yours.” Before I can protest, she has it unzipped and shrugs out of it.
“Keep it. I don’t need it.”
Jess pulls it back in and clutches the leather to her chest. Lucky jacket.
“I’d better…” She jerks her head toward the apartment block.