Too Much to Lose (19 page)

Since Jess.

Shit.

I picture Jess in some cute
pyjamas, all sleepy from being in bed, her hair messy. The ache in my chest
eases.

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’ve got
to go. I just remembered…” I stand and she pouts.

“Come on, Hunter.” She pats the
seat beside her.

“Hey, what’s going on, man?”
Mitch raises both brows.

“I gotta be somewhere. Sorry.”

Without trying to explain, I
swivel and head out the door. I didn’t drive so I could drink so I flag down a
taxi, not even able to resist grinning. I’m going to see Jess. I need Jess.
Goddamn what was I thinking? I can’t live without her. I get in the taxi and
give the driver her address. So she’s made mistakes. Who hasn’t? And she
suffered abuse. I mean, for fuck’s sake, what kind of asshole am I that I can’t
forgive her stupid decisions at such a young age. She must have been so
desperate. And I understand desperate. I’ve been there. So what if she took
some money? That bastard deserved everything he got.

Hell, though if
my
decisions don’t seem cowardly. Jess was practically a kid, driven out of her
home but some sicko. I curl a fist and curse the late night traffic and the
pervert who touched her. Maybe I’ll track Carl down and exact some punishment
of my own….

I run both hands through my
hair and wish I hadn’t been drinking. I’m not drunk but how am I going to
convince her I’m not a dick for abandoning her for a week after all I did to
persuade her to let me into her life with beer on my breath?

As the taxi works its way
through the late night traffic to Peckham, I try to figure out what I’m going
to say. My phone rings, jarring me from my thoughts. I pull it out, expecting
it to be Connor or Mitch but it’s not. I swear aloud.

“Well?” Carl asks.

“Well, what?”

“I’ve been trying to contact
you all week. Have you got the money?”

“What was the money from, Carl?
Why did Jess leave?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters if the money isn’t
legal. And it matters if you did something to her.”

“What the fuck? Do you want to
be paid or not? None of this bothered you when I was sending you money.”

“Frankly, Carl, you can take
your money and shove it up your ass. I don’t want your money. And you can stay
the hell away from Jess, you sick fuck.”

I jab end call and grin to
myself. So I’ve got no money. If I can persuade Jess to have me it won’t
matter. Maybe I’ll sell the bike. That will keep me going for a while and I can
put some of the money into advertising, get a few new jobs. Hopefully I’ll
figure out some way of keeping up the payment on the house.

The taxi pulls up outside
Jess’s apartment block. I’ll worry about money later.

Jess

Feet pounding from a long shift
at the pub, I climb the stairs to my apartment. I can’t wait to get into bed and
hopefully forget everything. Eddie started quizzing me about Hunter which
didn’t help and he sent me home early, saying I didn’t look well.  When I think
I might be getting over him, something comes up to remind me of him.

The sound of someone running up
the stairs makes my heart leap and I pause, press myself against the wall and
wait for them to come past me. Ruffled dark hair, a damned leather jacket and
blazing eyes come into sight. He lifts his head as a tilted smile slides over
his lips.

“Jess.” He practically breathes
my name and my toes curl.

“Hunter?”

“Hey, princess.” He comes up
beside me and shoves his hands in his jeans.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you. You been
working?”

“Yes, I’ve been working,” I
snap. “Why did you want to see me at nearly one in the morning?”

He shrugs. “Can we go up?” He
lifts that beautiful gaze to the stairs.

“Hunter, you can’t just turn up
like this.” I fold my arms. “I’ve not spoken to you in over a week and now you
expect to turn up out of the blue and expect… expect…” I wave my hand, not sure
what he really expects. Is he wanting to take me to bed? To talk? What?

“I can explain.”                      

I study his posture, the
determined jut of his chin and wide stance. I don’t have a hope in hell of
winning this argument and forcing him to turn back around. And of course the
stupid part of me—the one that Hunter brings out—wants to know what he’s been
doing.

“Fine, but be quick. I’m
tired.”

He nods and a satisfied smile
cracks his face. Damn him, why does he have to be so sexy? Even though I’m
pissed off, desire spears me. In an attempt to hide it, I turn and walk briskly
up the stairs. I dig my keys out of my bag and fumble with them when I reach
the door. My hands really don’t want to cooperate as my pulse beats a fitful
tempo.

After what feels like forever
of him breathing down my neck, of his warm body too close to mine, I get the
door open and usher him in. Paper crunches underfoot and a spasm strikes my
heart and makes my throat constrict. I pause to pick up the slim padded
envelope that’s been pushed under my door.

While numbness pervades me, I
blindly place it on the kitchen side.

“Aren’t you going to open
that?”

“I-I... no, I’ll just…” My
vision blurs while fear throbs through me. It’s another letter from whoever has
discovered me. I can tell from the writing. I don’t even want to know what it
says but I’ll have to open it eventually to find out what they want. But not in
front of Hunter.

Hunter scowls. “Is it another
letter?”

“How am I meant to know when I
haven’t opened it?” I snap.

He closes the door carefully
and approaches me with even more caution. Strong hands curl around my arms
before I can back away. His gaze searches mine. “Has anything else happened?
Mitch said you were fine—”

“I am fine.”

He studies me for a few moments
more forcing heat into my cheeks and releases my arms. I allow myself a breath
of relief but it’s for nothing as he reaches past me and snatches the envelope.

“Hunter!” I protest and make a
grab for it but it’s too late.

With a rip, he opens the envelope
and spills its contents onto the kitchen counter. A pink letter and a DVD—a
porn film, one with my old self on. I can’t hold back a choked sound and I clap
a hand over my mouth, powerless to do anything but watch as he picks up the
case and turns it over to study the back. Not meeting my gaze, he places it
down and proceeds to open the letter and read it. He rubs his forehead.

I gulp and clamp my arms around
myself. This is it then. It’s all over. I’ll have to move now. The other letter
could have been a prank but this confirms it. Whoever is sending the stuff
knows about me. And now Hunter does too. How can I stay to face his disgust?

He waves the pink letter at me
and I brace myself. Breathing grows harder. Of all the people to discover the
truth, did it have to be him? I could bear it better from someone else but not
Hunter, a man I am insanely attracted to and who actually, in spite of his disappearing
act, I can’t help but respect. His honesty and determination puts me to shame.

“I-I think you should leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hunter, please. I don’t want
to talk about it. Go.”

 “I’m not going anywhere.” He
inches closer. “I know, Jess. I know it all. I’ve known for a while.”

“What?” I whisper.

“I know about your past. That
you were a porn star. I know what you’re running from.”

“Oh God…”

Bile rises in my throat and I
fight the need to bend double. My cheeks burn. How could I have thought this
would be different? That I could keep my past from him. It always finds a way
out. And now I’ve probably lost the closest thing to—I don’t know—true love,
I’m ever going to have.

His features blur in front of
me and my chest compresses. I need some air. I have to get away. Turning
blindly, I grope for my handbag on the counter.

“Jess!”

I don’t even look back when I
stumble away, nearly tripping on the worn carpet. He makes a grab for me—I feel
the rush of air past my arm—but I’m gone. I’m out the door and storming down
the corridor. My feet pound in time with my heart. I’m almost waiting for the
floor to crumble beneath me, because that’s how it feels. As if the world has
fallen out beneath my feet. I want to smack my palm into something for being
such an idiot. This was exactly what I was protecting myself from and yet I
walked recklessly in and convinced myself this time would be different.
Convinced myself I was a better person than I really am.

My heart ratchets when I hear a
door slam and footsteps following. I pick up my pace and throw myself around
the corner, almost missing the first step down. A hand curls around my upper
arm and jerks me to a stop as I reach the next floor. I’m pushed to the wall
and it winds me slightly. Once I look up at him, he’ll see the tears in my
eyes. I can’t do it so I keep my face lowered. What would I see anyway? Disappointment?
Condemnation? I’d rather remember when Hunter looked at me like all he wanted
to do was lick me from head to toe.

“Why are you running, Jess?”
His voice is gruff and it tugs at something inside.

“Because you know,” I mumble.

I do not want to be doing this.
I’ve barely managed to suppress the memories of my past as it is. I can’t go
over it again now just to appease his curiosity. And that’s what it will be.
Maybe he’ll listen for a bit and pretend he gets it, but you can always see it.
The judgment. Guys like to make-believe they’d like a whore in their bed, but
when it comes down to it, they would never marry the whore.

“What?”

“Because you know!” I shout and
raise my head. My foot twitches as I hold back the desire to stomp like a
damned school girl. “I can’t stand it. Knowing that you know it all. I wanted
to forget…” A sob bubbles out my mouth and I can’t hold it back. I sag against
the wall, held up now by both his hands on my arms. “I want to forget,” I
whisper.

Tremors wrack me and the tears
I’ve been holding back escape. I probably could have coped if it had been
anyone else. I’d move on—again—find another shitty job and try to pick up the
pieces. It would mean starting over but I’d do that if it meant leaving behind
the recrimination.

Hunter’s hands leave my arms
and I close my eyes, wait for him to leave. But I don’t hear any footsteps. Instead,
there’s warmth and solid muscle pressing against me. A hand sneaks behind my
head, cups the back of my neck while the other smoothes over my cheek.

“Shh,” he murmurs in my ear as
he removes his hand, places it on my hip and brings his face to the side of
mine.

Bristle skims my jaw and I
immediately soften into him. I sniffle, hating the dampness on my cheeks. I
don’t normally cry. It’s not me. What’s the point in crying when it doesn’t
help? But in some weird way if feels good to have Hunter holding me. My
forehead presses against his chest and his T-shit absorbs some of my tears. I
swallow the ache in my throat and force my breaths to slow, drawing them in
through my nose.

At some point, I become very
aware of his body flattened against mine.
Very
aware. My nipples peak
against those hard planes and I find my fingernails digging into his biceps.
Tears dry up and heat fills my body. The hand on my neck keeps rubbing, one
rough thumb sweeping up and down the arch of my neck. I’m so sensitive there it
sends tingles straight through me, raising the hair on my arms.

Forehead still against his
chest, my breath hitches when the palm on my hip curves around to hold my ass.
More hardness greets me, the thick length of him must be straining against his
jeans. I’m sure, even through all the layers, I can feel the heat of him.
Longing gathers between my thighs. All sense has deserted me. There’s only skin
and heat and lust.

There’s only Hunter.

“Jess.”

My name on his lips, raw yet
tender, forces me to lift my head. His blue gaze pierces me. An arrow to the
heart. I swear I feel it, deep down in my chest or maybe in the twisting of my
stomach.

He does it again. “Jess.”

Shit. Clutching onto him as if
he might escape at any moment, I wait for him to lower his lips to mine. His
gaze remains on me, so intense I can hardly breathe. Warm lips meet mine—a
light, tickling touch that has me almost writhing in anticipation. His mouth
parts and I follow suit. We share a breath, hold ourselves there for a moment.
I can scarcely suck in air as the scent of his cologne surrounds me and his
jeans brush against my legs.

Something snaps. Maybe inside
me, perhaps inside him, I’m not sure, and he covers my mouth fully, instantly
thrusting his tongue inside. I make a noise, a sound of desperation, and clutch
his head, terrified he’ll leave me. My entire body pulses with need and I bring
my leg up to latch it around the back of his knee, moaning when the hard fabric
of his fly presses against my sensitive flesh.