His Obsession Page 13

  “Next time,” he said as he slid another inch forward, “we’re going to play a bit more.”

  “Play?” The word came out as a squeak.

  “Yes, play.” He groaned as he sank the rest of the way into me.

  He rotated his hips, and I moaned, reaching out to grab his shirt. “You’re wearing too many clothes. I want to touch you.”

  “You are touching me.” He sounded amused, but the heat in his eyes was anything but amusing.

  “No, I want I want I want…” I let out a cry as he snapped his hips forward. “Fuck yes that. More of that.”

  He began to move in fast, deep strokes that rubbed against all the right parts of me. “Keep talking.”

  “What?” I clung to his shoulders, all my attention focused on the point where our bodies connected.

  “Keep talking. Tell me what you want.”

  “Skin.” It took an insane effort to manage to get just that word out.

  He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head without missing a beat. “Better?”

  I nodded. I slid my hands down from his shoulders to his chest. Every inch of him was solid as a rock.

  He wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me in place as he began to move faster, each new stroke driving the air from my lungs and sending ripples of pleasure across my nerves. I curled forward, every cell in my body vibrating as I struggled to keep myself from coming. I dug my nails into his chest, barely aware of what I was doing.

  A bolt of lightning hit me as Jax’s thumb pressed against my clit, rubbed it, and I was helpless to do anything but chase the electricity right over the edge. I pressed my face against his chest, used his body to muffle all the sounds I couldn’t stop myself from making.

  Each new thrust sent me a little higher, and then he buried himself deep once, twice, and came. For a few glorious seconds, we hovered there together, riding the bliss we’d found in each other’s bodies.

  I didn’t want to like him, but I knew I wasn’t sitting here, my arms wrapped around him, his forehead resting against mine, just because the sex was good. The scent of sex and whatever spicy soap he used surrounded me. I could feel him, still inside me, and I knew we’d both need to move soon, but in this moment, I was content. Not only content but safe. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…

  I shouldn’t be thinking like that.

  He wasn’t my boyfriend. This was sex, and nothing more. I didn’t have to like him to fuck him, so I wasn’t going to like him. I’d tolerate him when he wasn’t giving me toe-curling orgasms.

  And as soon as my brain was functioning enough to communicate effectively, I’d tell him that.

  “You didn’t keep your hands behind your back,” he said as he straightened.

  I shivered as he pulled out, the loss of his body heat affecting me as much as the sudden emptiness inside me. He tossed the condom into the trashcan next to the desk and tucked himself back into his pants. Then he bent over, picking up both his shirt and my pants.

  “You came without permission.”

  I sucked in a breath as I slid off the desk, a whole new set of aches joining the others. Despite that, I didn’t regret what we’d done. As I eased into my pants, however, I saw some of the papers that had fallen off the desk, and my father’s name was still at the top of a couple of them. This was his office, and I’d had sex in here with Billy, and now with a virtual stranger. I couldn’t think of a worse way to disrespect Dad’s memory than what I’d just done.

  “That’s two things I need to punish you for.”

  I looked up as I fixed my shirt, momentarily confused by what he’d said. Then I remembered, and my treacherous body clenched with nearly painful need.

  “I need to get back to work,” I said, turning away from him.

  For a moment, I thought he would grab my arm, turn me around so he could tell me exactly how he was going to punish me. Except he didn’t do any of those things.

  “Have you ever thought about expanding the bar?”

  I turned on my own and saw a thoughtful expression on Jax’s face. “Expanding? Did you see how empty it is out there?”

  “If you opened all this into one big, open space, it could be more than a bar.”

  I froze. More than a bar? Was he really making a business pitch now?

  “I already checked the blueprints to make sure it’d be possible to tear out these walls.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shook my head, feeling a bitter laugh wanting to force itself from between my lips. How could I have been so stupid?

  “What?” He sounded surprised, but for all I knew, he was that good of an actor.

  “Do you still want my bar?” I waited a few moments for an answer, but when it didn’t come, I took that as a good enough response. “Get out, and don’t come back.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Jax

  The room was packed, but that didn’t surprise me. Grandfather had been well-known and well-liked. Well, maybe more like well-respected rather than well-liked. He’d never been the sort of man people talked about liking, but people did always want him around, and it looked like everyone had come out of the woodwork to pay their respects.

  “Jax, I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

  The old man extending a hand to me looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. I wasn’t about to let him know that though. I owed it to Grandfather to maintain the family name, especially since I was going to be the face of the company now.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “Grandfather would have appreciated it.”

  “He was a great man,” he said as he shook my hand enthusiastically. “He’ll be missed.”

  I thanked him and then turned to the next person in line, listening to the same platitudes, the same compliments. I recognized maybe two out of ten, and all of them were from the business world. We were an hour into the calling hours we were holding before the afternoon’s service, and I hadn’t seen anyone I would’ve considered a friend. The only family I had left was standing in the receiving line next to me.

  We’d ended up standing in birth order completely by chance, which meant I was standing next to Cai, and I supposed that was a good thing since it meant that people didn’t get two reticent Hunter brothers in a row since I was used to talking to people I didn’t know. Slade would hold his own, and Blake was behaving himself. Ms. K had refused to stand with us, saying it wasn’t her place. I hadn’t wanted to press the issue, knowing it would only embarrass her to have that personal side of their relationship brought out.

  So, she was standing off to one side, out of the way, and trying not to look like she’d been crying. I’d already put a reminder in my phone to send her a huge thank you gift tomorrow. She’d said that she couldn’t take credit for the service because Grandfather had planned for everything except the date, and that hadn’t taken any skill on her part, but I knew she’d put her heart into this. It was everything Grandfather would have wanted.

  “Do you actually know any of these people?” Cai asked quietly.

  “Some of them,” I admitted.

  “If you don’t know them, why the hell are they here?”

  I glared at Blake as his voice carried. “Because it’s not all about us.”

  “Right.” He shrugged. “Why should it be about us? We’re only the grandsons he raised after our parents died. Why should that make us any more special than someone he met once at a business conference?”

  I stepped behind Cai to put me closer to our youngest brother. “This isn’t the time or place, Blake. Pull yourself together.”

  “Let me guess,” he sneered, “’we have a reputation to uphold.’”

  The muscle popped in my jaw. “The family name might not mean much to you, but it does to me. And I don’t have the luxury of running off to another life when this is all over. I live here, I work here. Maybe you could at least try to not act like a total asshole.”

  “Me?” Blake snapped. “I’m not t
he one who’s been bitching all morning about every little thing.”

  “I think this is the sort of conversation we could have later,” Slade said. “Perhaps when we’re not supposed to be grieving for our dead grandfather.”

  Slade’s words had the sobering effect he most likely intended, and we returned to our places in line, polite plastic smiles in place.

  Everything began to blur as one hour turned into two, and then we were sitting in strangely comfortable chairs as people took turns talking about what a great man Grandfather was, and how he’d made a difference in so many people’s lives. Then it was my turn, and I read a passage Grandfather had pre-selected, and then gave a short speech that he would’ve approved of. Personal, but unsentimental.

  Then, suddenly, it was all over, and the only thing left to do was put Grandfather’s ashes in the family crypt. Grandfather had instructed that only us four attend the interment, and as soon as we reached the cemetery, I knew I wasn’t the only one who breathed a sigh of relief that we were alone.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” Slade said as he squinted up at the sun. “It was getting tense in there.”

  “So, what are we going to do about those asinine restrictions to Grandfather’s will?” Blake asked. “You think Ms. K will notice if we pretend to play nice?”

  “We’re brothers.” I lifted a shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with how we act with each other. It’s okay that we aren’t best friends. Like I said before, not all siblings are.”

  “Do you really think that our relationships are fine?” Slade rolled his eyes. “Come on, you and Blake nearly came to blows at our grandfather’s funeral.”

  “Because he was being an ass,” I said. “He’s always an ass. Why is that my fault? Why do I get fucked over because he can’t act like a fucking human being at a fucking funeral?”

  “Whoa.” Blake held up his hands. “What crawled up your ass?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, our grandfather is dead, and some stupid stipulations he set up might put me out of a job and our family’s legacy in the hands of some outsider.”

  Slade shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Something’s up with you.”

  I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Nothing’s up with me. I just have a lot going on.”

  “And does that particular ‘a lot’ have a name?” Slade asked with that obnoxious grin of his.

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me that here, now.” I shook my head.

  “I think Grandfather would approve,” Slade said. “He’s the one who wanted us to reconcile our differences. I think a good place to start would be for you to tell us why you’re acting like this.”

  “Sure, I’m having a problem with this woman, okay? It’s nothing important. She’s nothing important.” I ground my teeth together as I thought about how she kicked me out of her bar a few nights ago after accusing me of just being after the property. “Someone I met when I was scoping out this property. Grandfather had heard that the prices in the area were going up, and I decided this bar would be the perfect place to start a club. I went there to make an offer, and this woman, Syll, she tells me she’s not interested. She drives me nuts.”

  “You’re acting like this because of a girl?” Blake started laughing. “That was the last thing I expected to hear.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to think about her. In fact, I’ll talk about anything except Syll.”

  “All right,” Slade said. “Why don’t you tell us why you want to start a club? Hunter Enterprises isn’t exactly in the business-building business. And definitely not building a dance club.”

  “I didn’t say it was a dance club.”

  “What kind of club then?” Slade asked, then his brows drew together as he considered the options. “Like some sort of gentlemen’s club?”

  I considered my brothers for a moment, and then decided I might as well tell them. Maybe it’d get us to some place where we could convince Ms. K that we were doing what Grandfather wanted and we could get this all taken care of.

  “A sex club.”

  Well, that silenced them. All three stared at me.

  “Not a strip club or something like that. Specifically, a BDSM club,” I said. “I saw one in New York and thought that something similar would work well here.”

  “What club in New York?” Cai asked.

  “Club Privé.”

  Slade grinned. “You’re shitting me. You went to Club Privé?” He glanced at the other two. “I think we’ve finally found something we have in common.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Syll

  I reported the assault. If whoever had done it came back, I wanted to make sure the cops would take me seriously. They were annoyed that I hadn’t come in right after the attack happened but became much more sympathetic after I explained that I couldn’t afford to lose the time it would take for them to do all their questioning at the bar. As I was leaving, I saw a picture on one of the detective’s desks, and the reaction made a lot more sense. He had a daughter who looked about my age, and she was standing in front of a diner, holding papers that said she owned the place. He must’ve been imagining how he’d want someone to help her if she was in a situation like mine. I hoped that also meant he’d put a bit of a priority on finding the bastard who was doing this.

  Outside was still gray and gloomy, but it’d stopped snowing, and the temperature was back in the decent range for the end of January, which meant all my regulars had been back since Thursday night. I also had about a dozen new customers, and while I wasn’t going to count on them coming back on a regular basis, I was grateful for their business.

  My ribs still ached if I turned the wrong way, but I could see out of my left eye again, and the bruises were almost gone. A hot shower at the end of the night took care of most of the usual aches and sore muscles. All in all, I was in a good mood when I finally turned in around three in the morning.

  I settled under the covers and breathed out a slow sigh. I knew I couldn’t count on every day being as busy as today, and one profitable night wouldn’t turn things around for me financially, but I allowed myself to hold on to that sliver of hope.

  I could do this. I’d figure out new marketing strategies to reach a wider market. I’d research promotions and look in to what sorts of specials worked best in a place like this. Maybe I’d even talk to the bank and see if I qualified for a small business loan. As much as Jax’s questioning had pissed me off, it’d made me think about expansion possibilities. If I had a better kitchen, I could offer a selection of food that could drum up some business.

  I was exhausted, but even as I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind raced. Ideas and thoughts chased each other, jumping from one topic to another so fast that I could barely process one before another took its place. I would’ve preferred to sleep, but at least these thoughts weren’t the negative, worrying ones that had plagued me daily since Dad died.

  I was thinking through the possibilities of advertising on social media when I heard a noise from the bar. I stilled, unsure if I’d really heard it, or if I was imagining things because of everything that’d happened.

  Then I heard it twice in a row.

  It wasn’t a loud sound, and it wouldn’t have woken me up if I’d been asleep. I’d almost missed it awake. I couldn’t quite place what it was. A soft, irregular thump that was too quiet for tipping chairs or breaking things, and not uniform enough for footsteps.

  And it sure as hell wasn’t the building settling or anything like that. Someone was in my bar.

  I threw back the covers and reached for my phone. As I dialed, I crept out of my bedroom and into the main area.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “There’s an intruder in my house.” I wasn’t whispering, but I kept my voice low. I had no way of knowing where the intruder was out there. The office between us might’ve acted as a buffer, but I wasn’t going to count on it.

  “Are you alone in the ho
use?”

  I nodded, then remembered the operator couldn’t see me. “I am. I live in an area behind my bar. He’s out in the bar.”

  “Stay where you are, miss,” the operator said. She rattled off the address and then asked for confirmation.

  “That’s it.” I took a step toward the door.

  “The police are on their way.”

  “There’s a Detective Lambert who’s working on my case. Someone should call him.”

  I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pulled on a pair of shoes.

  “What case?”

  “Vandalism and assault. I was in yesterday to give a statement about a guy coming into my bar the other day and beating me up.” I looked around, trying to decide what would make the best weapon.

  “Do you have a way out that won’t put you in the intruder’s path?”

  I glanced toward the door right next to my bedroom. “I have an emergency door, but it’ll set off an alarm if I go out it, and it leads to an alley that’s closed off by fences that’re too tall for me to get over.”

  “Just stay where you are for right now then,” the operator said. “If he comes back there though, you need to get out.”

  “Sure,” I said absently as my gaze fell on a box of Dad’s stuff I’d left in the corner of the room, unsure what to do with it. If I remembered correctly, one of the things in there was his fishing gear, including a boning knife. That’d do.

  “I need to go.”

  “Stay on the line with me,” she said.

  “He might hear me.”

  I knew it was a cop-out reason, but I also knew she’d try to talk me out of what I wanted to do. I was tired of hiding, of being scared. My dad hadn’t raised me to be a victim, and that was how I’d felt for the last couple days. I was through with it. I didn’t care that it was stupid and rash, or that it might get me killed. I’d reached my limit.

  As I dug in the box for the knife, my phone rang, startling me bad enough that I almost dropped it. I hit the accept button without even really registering who was calling. I just needed the phone to stop ringing before the guy in the bar heard it and came back to investigate.