Too Much to Lose (7 page)

“You really didn’t need to—”

“I know, I know.” He holds up a
hand. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that playing hard to get only encourages
men?” Hunter chuckles at my shocked expression.

“I’m really not—”

“Maybe.” He cocks his head.
“But I can’t resist a challenge. Guess I’m a sucker for punishment.” He jerks
his head toward the opposite side of the road. “Will you at least let me drive
you home? For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

“I don’t—”

The screech of tires makes me
snap my head around. I spy a car weaving between vehicles, way up the street,
effectively pushing other cars aside. The car barrels down the road, close to
where we’re standing.

It happens slowly, like in the
movies. I can’t seem to move as the car swerves and takes the corner too hard. It’s
going to hit me and I try to scream but no sound comes out. Totally frozen, the
only movement my racing heart, I brace myself for the impact as the lights
blind me. Pain bursts through my arm—it must have hit me—as I’m slammed to the pavement
but weirdly I only feel a soft push from the car. The sound of the engine
picking up speed tells me the driver hasn’t bothered to stop. I shove myself up
and peer around, cradling my arm that seems to be in full working order but
very painful.

Then I spot Hunter on the
ground.

“Shit.” I scoot over to him and
scrabble with his blood tinged T-shirt. He groans and tries to sit up but I
press a palm to his shoulder. “Don’t move. You might have broken something.”

“I’m okay,” he protests.

“You just got hit by a car.”
And saved me. He must have pushed me to the side and, by the looks of it, the
car swiped him.

Hunter’s determined to stand so
I help him up and try not to wince as he grips my bruised and battered arm.

He lifts his T-shirt and prods
his ribs.

“Careful!” I exclaim.

 Eyeing me from under his brow,
a smile flickers on his lips “It’s okay. Nothing’s broken.” He lowers his shirt
and grimaces. “Just a little bruised.”

“Thank you,” I say softly. “I
guess you just saved my life.”

A smirk sits on those tempting
features. “You’re very welcome.”

“W-we should get you to the
hospital.”

“I don’t think so.”

I consider the blood I saw on
his firm stomach. “You’re hurt.”

“I don’t need a hospital,” he
insists.

Christ, the man is almost as
stubborn as me but I can’t very well send him on his way. I’ll be the one
having a sleepless night if I don’t do something.

“Will you let me at least
bandage your side? You’re bleeding.”

Both brows rise and he glances
at the blood on his shirt and then on his fingers. “Yeah, I guess you better do
that.”

“Right. Are you okay to drive?”

“Sure.”

I want to laugh at his macho behaviour
but I’m still concerned. Hunter might look tough but he’s just been side swiped
by a
car
. A thought occurs to me. “Should we call the police?”

“Jess, stop worrying.” He takes
my elbow and leads me across the road. I hear his breath press through his
teeth and realize he’s in more pain than he’s admitting. “They’ll be long gone
by now.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.
Did you see a license plate?”

One dark brow rises as we stop
outside his black BMW. “I was a little busy.”

“Of course, sorry.” Heat fills
my face. Why does he disconcert me so much? You’d think after two years playing
a role, I’d have no problems dealing with him. I think it’s the idea he sees
through me that puts me on edge. “The cameras will have seen it.” I wave a hand
around.

He opens the door for me and
motions me in. “Forget it. Trust me, I’ve dealt with enough people like that
driver to know nothing will come of it.”

I climb in and scowl. Does his
investigation business mean he deals with criminals a lot? I really don’t know
much about him. Not that I want to find out more. I keep forgetting I don’t
want to get close to Hunter. The door slams and he gets in on the other side. It’s
as though a vacuum has formed inside the car. Each breath feels stifled and the
air is hot. His leather clad arm brushes mine and even through the material of
my jacket my skin tingles at the contact.

“Strap in,” he orders and I do
as I’m told.

I’m not sure when I became so
obedient. Probably the same time he glanced at me and turned my insides to
mush. He flicks me a grin and starts the engine. We head out of Clapham and
take a right at the park.

“We’re going to my place?
Wouldn’t it be better to go to yours?”

“Yours is closer.”

For some reason, I was curious
to see where he lives. A trendy apartment perhaps, or a converted warehouse.
Somewhere dark and mysterious. I smile to myself. Living in London is insanely
expensive—which is why I live in a dump—and I know his mortgage payments aren’t
huge so maybe not.

He pulls into a parking bay and
I climb out quickly, keen to get him seen to. With what seems to be deliberate
moves, he locks the car and a hand comes to the base of my spine while he
ushers me into the building. His palm leaves me as we climb the stairs and I
miss it. I’m aware of his gaze burning into my back, conscious of each movement
I make. The tiny part of me that still craves attention longs for him to be
enjoying the sight.

We reach the front door and he
stands too close as I put the key in the lock. His body radiates heat and the
desire to lean back into the comfort of his chest is overwhelming. How would it
feel for his arms to come around me and those lips to touch my neck?

Heavenly. That’s how it would be.
If he can incite excitement in me from brushing my arm, I know being with him
would be insane—mind-blowing even. What I wouldn’t give to recreate that kiss.
I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed so passionately, so possessively. The
kisses I got when filming were usually pretty disgusting.

“Uh, Jess?”

I jolt and stare at the key in
the lock. “Right, sorry.” I let him in and the glint in his eyes hints at him
knowing what distracted me, but how could he possibly know?

My breath sticks in my throat. Was
he thinking the same thing?

Shutting the door, I chuck the
keys on the kitchen side and motion toward the bedroom. “You’d better lie on
the bed. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at… at your—” I wave a hand, biting
back the various inappropriate ways I want to describe his sexy body “—injury,”
I finish lamely.

As if he owns the place, he
carefully shrugs off his jacket and flings it on the couch then saunters into
the bedroom. I remain standing by the kitchenette but I’ve got a good view of
him. My feet are weighted as if gravity has suddenly increased and I can’t
move. Hunter lies back on the bed and tucks his hands behind his head—waiting
for me.

I shake my head, strip off my
jacket and fling it aside then force my leaden legs forward and stop in the
doorway to the bedroom. “I’ll just grab some stuff… I mean, bandages and
stuff…”

I scurry to the bathroom and
tear open the medicine cabinet. It’s not exactly well stocked but I find a gauze
pad and an antiseptic wipe I took from the first aid kit at work when I cut my
hand slicing lemons for cocktails.

Medical supplies in hand, I
hurry back to the bedroom and try to ignore how my stomach flips at the sight
of him on the bed. It would be so easy to straddle him and—

“Oh.” I pick up the pad I just
dropped and dump it on the bedside table. Hands on my hips, I worry my lip and
survey him. It’s no good. “I think you’re going to have to take your top off.”

“You think?” I hear laughter in
his voice but his expression twists when he goes to sit and I’m forced to help
him up.

My fingers shake as I peel up
the grey cotton and pull it over his head, revealing taut skin that makes my
mouth water. He slumps and puts his hands back behind his head as if he hasn’t a
care in the world, as if need isn’t tearing through him and making his heart pound
unnaturally.

I envy him.

Seated next to him on the bed, I
recall how he’d done the same not even twenty-four hours ago. The sensation in
the pit of my stomach reminds me. I wish I’d been more lucid and able to enjoy
how he took care of me. It’s been so long since someone did.

I drop my gaze to his torso.
“Oh, it’s only a scratch.” Admittedly, it’s a big scratch—red and angry down
his side. I run a finger around the abrasion that is easily larger than my
hand. “The car did get you good though.” His muscles contract with my touch. Mesmerizing.

“Told you it wasn’t so bad.”

“Bet it hurts though.” I glance
up. “Don’t give me any macho bullshit.”

He chuckles and grimaces. “Just
bruised. But I won’t be doing anything particularly active for the next day or
so.”

The way he says
active
,
his voice low and gruff, conjures up images of the kind of activity that might
put a strain on his side. Hunter’s body slick from sweat and straining for release…
now there’s a picture I really don’t need. I find myself fanning my face and I have
to clamp my hand under the other one on my lap.

I grab the wipe and tear it
open, casting aside the sachet. He hisses when I press it to the laceration.
“Sorry.”

I’m more sorry for letting
myself enjoy the sight of him. It’s only going to add to my longing, increase
my pain. Hunter can never be mine. No one wants a woman like me, not even
Hunter, and I will not put myself through the agony of betrayal and the
humiliation or the bullying that comes with it.

But it doesn’t stop me from
looking. Black letters in an almost medieval font are written just above the
waistband of his jeans spelling out
Remember
. The lower part of the
letters dip beneath his waistband and my fingers twitch as I imagine tracing
them. What does he want to remember? Another tattoo, some intricate roses that
should have looked too feminine, twine up the other side of his torso. On him,
they’re beautiful and only add to his appeal. I can’t tell what the ink on his
arm is as he’s still lounging as if sunbathing on a beach instead of being
nursed by someone with very little medical knowledge.

The ripples in his stomach
tense while I continue cleaning. I never really wanted to taste a man’s skin
before but I want to run my tongue over those ridges and follow the dark line
of hair down. The lightest scattering of hair over his pecs begs for me to
splay my hands across them and touch his flat nipples. A smile tugs at my lips.
How would he react if I started licking and caressing him?

“What’s so funny?”

I peer up to see him watching
me closely. I’m probably blushing again. I can’t believe I just got caught
eyeing him up. “Nothing.”

I cast aside the wipe and pull
open the gauze pad. Lining it up with the scratch, I place it gently over and
press down the sides, eliciting a faint groan from him.

“There.” I study my handiwork
and meet his intense gaze again. What now? Do I send him on his way after he
saved my life? I’ve never had a hero before. I’m not really sure what to do
with him.

“Can I get you anything?”

“A drink would be nice.”

“I don’t have any alcohol.”

“Water will be just fine,” he
assures me.

“Water, sure. Give me a
minute.”

Expelling a breath, I gather up
the rubbish and carry it out to the kitchen. After I dump it in the trash, I
wash my hands and dab some water on my heated neck and chest. I’d wash my face
too but I don’t really want to ruin my make-up. I’ll look like a member of Kiss
for one if I do, but I’m sure he sees too much as it is. Don’t need him seeing
the real me too.

I grab a glass from the
cupboard, rinse it out and fill it. Then I place it on the counter and rest my
hands on either side of the sink so I can take a few breaths before going back
to face him. Just a little more time and I’ll get him out of my life. I’m not
an animal for Godsakes. I can be in the company of a shirtless man without
jumping on him and begging him to take me.

Yeah, you’ve got this.
I
snatch the glass and head back to the bedroom.

“Oh God,” I whisper.

I haven’t got this.

He’s asleep. The sounds of
heavy breaths and those parted lips threaten to send me to the floor. I step
in, set down the drink and study him. My heart beats like a kick drum and I
swallow heavily. His arms are still sprawled, one sneaking onto the other
pillow. His chest rises and falls with each deep inhalation. The way his relaxed
jaw and closed eyes make him look almost angelic is fascinating. Before I realize
what I’m doing, I touch his lips.

I recoil back and retreat a few
paces. What the hell am I going to do with him? I glance at the clock. It’s
heading on for morning and I can hardly kick him out after what he did. While the
car might have only grazed him, who knows what would have happened if it had
hit me. He might really have saved my life.