Hunter: MC Romance (Hell Reapers MC Book 1) (10 page)

"What's wrong?" Hunter asked, his brow rising in question.

I looked over to Hunter and found my stomach doing gymnastics. The tightness in my throat was becoming difficult to withstand.
Say something. Anything. I could only keep my eyes locked on the blue mat that my ex was standing on.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be struck down and washed away like ash in the wind, to save myself from the embarrassment; to pluck myself from the shame and the guilt and the horrible, clutching fear.
"Jessica?" He asked, as Jerry stood there wooden and stiff and drinking me in with those cockroach brown eyes that I loathed.
"What?" I asked, there was harshness to my tone.
"...Are you alright?" Not even remotely.
"Yes," I replied curtly, shifting my look between the two men, "why wouldn't I be?" He can't know, he can't find out - nobody can know.
"You just seem, I don't know—"
"I said I'm fine," fire ran freely through my veins and as much as I couldn't stand the water I felt like now more than ever, the urge to scrub my skin clean – the maddening urge to cleanse myself of the filth that I had to endure, just by being near Jerry. I shot him a cold look, not caring for what Hunter made of it, "why don't you finish up with your client, and I'll go wait over there," I said through gritted teeth and motioned towards a canopied concrete square; it had a green table with benches flanked on either side of it.
Hunter shook his head, "No, no," he said, "Mr. Stanopolis here," god even his last name sent shivers of repulsion through me. I had to look away, "was about to be on his way, we'll cut it short and pick up the same time next Tuesday. Sound good?"
Jerry swept a hand through what remained of his receding brown hair, "Yeah," there was something shaky and off in his voice, "that works for me, thanks again S." Jerry walked by me then, giving me a cursory look over that lasted nothing more than a second. He seemed afraid, nervous even, to be looking at me.
I watched the man walk away towards the parking lot, his white t-shirt drenched with sweat and his long grey basketball shorts clinging to his pasty, pathetic skin.
I craned my head to look at Hunter, "Did he just call you S?"
"It's my last name."
"That's a pretty bland last name."
"I like to call my clients by their last name," Hunter shrugged, his corded muscles rolling along with him, "he just likes to call me S – as in Sin."
"S I N? You’re kidding, right?"
"S y n n," he explained, "I'm not gonna get my hopes up and presume you'll give me your last name. That would be just
too
much."
"You're very perceptive, Hunter
Synn
."
He flashed the white of his teeth, "And you're about to be hilariously sore."
"Uh?" Whatever he meant by that, I wanted absolutely zero part in it. Mostly…
Hunter sauntered over beside the blue mat that was lying across the grass. He dropped to the floor and took up a push-up position, his deliciously exquisite body on display for me; his hard ass popped up in the air at an angle. "You're gonna do push-ups with me."
"Oh like
hell
I am," I crossed my arms together as Hunter began exercising, slowly dropping and rising from the ground, his muscles tightening with his every exertion.
"Don't be a stick in the mud," he grunted, pushing out a breath, "you've got the best ass I've never had the pleasure of seeing naked," he announced boldly, threading an arrow through my heart, "but you gotta take care of number one. Just because perfection isn't reachable, doesn't mean you shouldn't pursue."
"Sounds like a lot of work," I padded closer to the man, my eyes keenly raking over his body, spying numerous looks at his hind end. I had to remind myself not to drool.
"It is," Hunter grunted, doing another set, the sweat dripping down from his chin. He paused on the return dip, tilting his head to look at me, "but there's beauty in working together. Plus I want to see your body in action," he confessed, his piercing blue eyes raking over me.
I looked down at the blue mat with disdain. That man was using that thing. There was no way that I would use it too. I picked it up and tossed it closer to the great tree, and then planted myself down, forcing my lips into the corner of my mouth, "I'll do a few, but only because I'm already here and I already look like I've spent the past hour being body productive."
Hunter smiled, giving me another look at those dimples, "Great."
"There's beauty in suffering together, I'd say," I ruminated on what the man had mentioned, dipping down to the ground and pushing myself back up.
Frack. I really wasn't in the best of shape. My hair spilled down and past my eyes, annoying the crap out of me.

"There you go," Hunter commented, "get it girl."
I laughed, "Shut up," I managed to do another.
"Oh yeah," Hunter slowly pumped up and down, going by my pace now - which was approximately as fast as a turtle which had just snacked on a fat stack of pancakes down at IHOP. "Beast another one out, firecracker."
I did another, my muscles already starting to become sore from the, apparently, humongous effort, "Anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?" I found a smile walking along the lines of my face, and a fluttering of happiness running through me.
Hunter scoffed, "Only every day. If you want to punch me, sweetheart, you'd best take a number - cause it's a hell of a long line."
"Somehow, I don't doubt that."
"Very perceptive, Jess, very perceptive."
"Can you, like," I struggled to do another one, making an overly-girlish grunt / squee kind of noise - I prided myself on being feminine, but only just so. Now I just felt like a wimp. "Not steal my lines? Do you have no originality what-so-ever?"
"C'mon," he encourage, "one more. Give me one more."
"I'm giving!" I replied, feeling the sweat begin to form along my body - my eyes still feasting on the radiant hunk of man that was beside me. Just being next to him was a sort of beautifully suffocating experience all its own. Hunter had this...presence to him. This aura that pulled me towards him, this dark, gravitational come hither that seduced every fiber of my being.
I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kiss him, and lick him and bite him.
I needed to fuck him.
My core tightened with a delightful, torturous lust.
"Alright," he announced, "you can stop," Hunter went to his feet, his calves tensing up; he folded his arms over his chest.
I followed his movements in kind, trying to spy some glances at the man's nether most regions. There was a warm, humming sensation kissing between my legs - a lewd wetness pooling at the base of my cotton panties.
"You know how to squat?"
"Huh?" I asked distracted. I wouldn't know how to get anything done if he was hovering over my writing desk at the office, let alone how I'd make it in if he were ever in my bed. "Uh, no? I didn't come equipped with that exact inclination."
Hunter looked at me funny then, "Okay," he said with a lightheartedness to his raw sex like voice; it was like I was getting personally groomed for body fitness by Vin Diesel - and not for nothing or anything, but this one had
hair
. He stepped closer to me then, that king of the jungle, his eyes locked on me - having to look downward at me because of the height difference.
I stood there half helplessly enthralled, half afraid - the man was built like a house. If he ever knew what I was tasked to do, it would without a doubt be the end of me.
Hunter padded past me, his broad shoulders escaping my view. He then slunk to my rear, getting in close behind me. I could feel the smoldering heat coming off of him as it clung to my body, a cold shiver of ecstasy trilling up my spine effortlessly. "Here," he said in a low voice, placing his powerful hands on my hips and straightening my form.

His touch ignited me where his hands fell.
Stay cool, stay cool. Ignore those desires, Ives, you're supposed to be detailing and crushing this man's organization - you can't afford to have the hots for him.
But hots I had. Hots in spades.
"Like this?" I asked sheepish.
"Yeah," Hunter rumbled, trailing his hands upwards, his rough fingers tracing my slick skin - sending rivulets of cold fire wherever they touched; he left me burning with a dark desire, a salacious hunger that dully throbbed against my nipples now. I could feel them stiffen. "Now bring your arms out like this," he whispered, his breath licking against my neck and ear; his hands went from my shoulders, to my wrists, and he stretched my arms out forward, putting them at an equal level.
"You're really good at this," I breathed, feeling a heat swirl in my throat and a joyous press against my heart. I wondered just how good Hunter Synn would be at
other
activities, outsides of bikes and muscles and the like.
"It's what I do," he said unimpressed with himself, "now bend down like you were sitting on a chair, like this," he explained, easing me downward. I would have been lying if I'd said I didn't enjoy every second of feeling his body so tightly pressed against mine; a horribly dirty thought skirted along the surface of my mind when I felt something in particular press firmly against my butt.
It couldn't be. I tried to get a look of his crotch, but was unable – not without making it super obvious, and I’d rather not die from embarrassment.
"There you go," he encouraged, "now you try it by yourself."
***

By the time that we finished with all of the push-ups and squats and jogging, I was a complete wreck of exhaustion, hatred and immense sexual frustration. I was disappointed in that he had put his shirt back on, but enjoying a good vanilla cone along the boardwalk with good company was nothing short of pleasant.
The bustle of the boardwalk itself wasn't so bad, not nearly as much foot traffic as there usually was. For the most part, Hunter and I were by ourselves.
"Still can't believe you're a vanilla kind of girl, didn't peg you as one," Hunter remarked, cursing beneath his breath when a drop of his chocolate, salted caramel and frozen strawberries ice cream fell to his white tee.
"Don't tell me, 'cause I don't want to know," I slid my tongue across the icy goodness, my mouth salivating for every taste.

“I figured you’d go for orange sherbet.”

I let out a genuine, albeit stiff laugh, “Wow. Really?”

“The hair,” he smirked. “Do the drape—“

“No,” I insisted over his voice, “no no no, you’re
not
asking me that.”

The cool winds buffeted us, granting a small reprieve from the bombastic heat. “So about last night,” Hunter said as we walked off the boardwalk and up the ancient wooden steps, steps that creaked with our every footing, “you shouldn’t be so embarrassed.”

I’m always embarrassed, “About what?” I asked. The sound of our footfalls touching my ear as we walked down the sullen pier.

“Of your voice, it’s the damn near prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Jessica.”

I nipped at the ends of my cone, “It’s nothing special,” I decried, “you’re only saying that because you want to get in my pants.” We took several more steps before reaching the end of the pier.

“If I wanted to be inside of you,” Hunter swiveled to face me, his soulful eyes raking over me, “I would have taken you last night,” he straightened out his posture, before his lips curled into a thin smile; he ate some of his ice cream casually. “Hard.”

Fingers of fire sifted through my insides, and I felt a ball of need grow between my legs, “If you had, I would have turned you down.”

“Liar,” he called me out in quick response, eating at the cone of his ice cream now, leaning coolly against the end of the pier – his arm rested against the dark wooden beam. “I could smell it on you, you wanted it just as bad as I did – I just chose not to.”

“Yeah?” I stepped closer in challenge, “were you afraid, is that it?”

“I’m not afraid,” Hunter said between his teeth, placing his cone down on the wooden beam and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Spoken like a coward,” I japed.

Hunter matched my previous step, getting in dangerously close now. He brought a hand up to my chin, his fingers just touching me – but I smacked him away. This only seemed to raise the man’s ire, and he redoubled his efforts; pulling me against him and taking what little remained of my cone away from me, setting it down beside his. He brought his hand back to the spot on my chin.

All I could do was look up into those eyes that ensnared me, giving in to that golden heat that roared around us in a circle; I submitted to the electricity of our connection.

Seagulls above sung their songs, and waves thundered as they crashed against the helpless shore.

“Test me,” Hunter snarled, “and I’ll bend you over right here. I have my reasons for everything that I do,” he said, “but you?”

I searched his face as he stole the breath from my lungs. The shores were dark; I the drifting boat among the sea, and he the mighty house that shot from the drowning stones I could not see – his light pulling me to harbor. Hunter exhaled a breath, “you’re an enigma. You show up at the club and I can’t keep my eyes off of you. You say you sing for a living, but you’re nervous and shy and sullen; and so many kinds of gorgeous I find everything about you has to be some kind of red flag – but fuck ‘em.”

I found my voice, that was locked somewhere deep within, “We’re all puzzles wanting, wishing, hoping to be solved,” I confessed, my chest heaving with my breath. I knew that the two of us, even despite how much of an attraction there was, could never be. “That doesn’t mean that we can be,” I continued, “I’m not even sure, if we’re born with all the pieces anyhow.”

Hunter loosened his grip on me, lowering his hand and stepping backwards, “Yeah?” He asked, “well let’s make some.”

Chapter 9

I'd followed Hunter's red 87 Charger to a place down the way, a dinghy bar called Alister's. I pulled into the parking lot, which was mostly empty – save for the rows of immaculate motorcycles, all beast and hellish engine and chrome. Stepping out of my car, I slammed down the door and checked the lock - my baby had a case of being particularly stubborn with keeping itself locked.