Claiming Honor (Bad Boys of River City Book 3) (4 page)

Wayne's a couple years older than me. I knew him more from the country club when we were teenagers than from school. From what I heard, his father took a bath in the stock market crash a few years ago and Wayne, who'd already been dealing some, started doing it full time to support his lifestyle. I think he still caters to the country club set. I see him there every now and then.

"Who knows what goes on in the head of a guy like that?" Hunter says. "You don’t have to worry about it. I'll take care of you."

His tone is determined. Promising. I tilt my head back to look at his face and catch my breath at the tenderness I see. My stomach does a slow flip flop. As I watch his eyes darken, his lids drooping as he focuses on my mouth. He wants to kiss me. Anticipation makes me tremble. I reach up and skim my fingertip on his full lower lip. He catches it between his teeth, gently scraping before releasing me and leans down. I jump up like I've been scalded. Oh no way. Gross. Definitely not until I brush my teeth. He's looking at me like I've lost my mind. He's probably not far off.

"I need to brush my teeth. And take a shower."

I feel dirty and that has to stop. His eyes gleam and he gives me the sexiest half grin I think I've ever seen.

"Lead the way."

Shaking my head, I grab my bag. I really need a few minutes to myself. "I won't be long, okay?"

I can tell by his expression that he doesn’t like it, but he finally nods. He leans back against the headboard and reaches for a tv remote control. I dig the bag with my toothbrush, hair products, and assorted accessories and go try to regain my composure. Damn, it feels good to brush my teeth. I hop in the shower and wash my hair. I'm tempted to linger, but Hunter calls out.

"You okay in there, baby? Want some company?"

Apparently, I have an inner sex kitten because my body responds immediately. The rest of me thinks it's not a bad idea either. If I'm going to be here I might as well enjoy the benefits while they last. I don’t invite him in. Instead I turn off the water, dry off and wrap a towel around me before I open the door. He's waiting on the other side, arms lifted to grip the frame above our heads. This time when he leans down I don’t jump away. I sigh into the kiss.

His mouth is firm on mine. Demanding. Unyielding. His tongue strokes over mine and I try to press close but he holds me still. He pulls the towel free and tosses it behind me onto the bathroom floor. My neat freak side doesn’t like that but it's hard to protest with his smoldering gaze stroking every spot on my body. His erection is clearly outlined in the tight fit of his jeans. It's fucking hot having this kind of effect on him. But it would be better to have is hands and tongue and cock. Did I say that out loud? Before I know it I’m flat on my back, he’s pushing into me, and the last damned thing on my mind is any danger.

Hell, he feels so
good
. He’s still mostly wearing his clothes, has his jeans shoved to his thighs. His cock is hard, easing into me, and even though it's so sudden, I’m more than wet enough to take him. How the hell does he do this to me? I stare up at him.

“Do you even know what foreplay is? Or is it always gonna be rushed and crazy like this. Not that crazy isn’t good sometimes,” I add on.

Right now I’m feeling pretty damned crazy. But not crazy enough.

“I’m thinking you naked would be good. And a little slower,” I say.

He suddenly freezes. “Am I hurting you?”

He makes my heart and body melt and he doesn’t even have to try. I shake my head.

“No.”

I reach for the edge of his shirt and tug it up until he takes it from me and pulls it over his head. I stroke his chest. He’s broad and chiseled. His stomach is more a twelve pack than six. I’ve dreamed off getting my mouth on him for months so I rise up on my elbows and swirl my tongue around his nipple.

He grunts. “Use your teeth, baby.”

I lick his nipple again then bite, stroking my palms down his back to clutch his ass. He’s fucking me slow, gentle. I don’t want slow and gentle. I leave a trail of kisses up his chest to his neck where I whisper in his ear.

“Hunter?”

I lean back so I can look in his eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart? What do you want?”

“You’re taking too long,” I complain.

He grins. “Tell me what you want. Don’t leave out any of the kinky little details.”

Oh God. I’ve never been much of a talker in bed, but it’s clear he is, and even though it’s out of my comfort zone, it’s sexy. Besides the unhurried lazy strokes are making me insane.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. “Hard. Faster.”

“Oh you can do better than that, baby.”

“Seriously? Can’t you just fuck me? I like it hard and fast and a little rough. So use your cock and give me what I want.”

I’m a little irritated and a lot frustrated so the words just come out, but they do the trick. He thrusts hard, again and again. It’s so damned good I don’t want it to ever end. I still don’t quite believe I’m in bed with Hunter Wallace.

“Touch yourself, Honor. Rub your clit for me.”

He leans back to watch as I slowly trail my fingers down my stomach, over my pelvis, and reveal my pierced clitoris. I take it between my fingers and tug. Sensation shoots through me, pleasure and pain merge and I pinch harder. But it's the look on his face that kicks things up a level. Fascinated. Enraptured. I want to come. I’m desperate to come and I’m so close. But more than that, I want him to keep looking at me like I'm the center of his very sensual universe.

“Fucking beautiful, baby.”

His hips piston faster and I feel the orgasm rise and consume me. I swear the world goes black for a few seconds. He’s still fucking me and when my hand falls away from my clit he puts his fingers on me. Like he flipped a damned switch or something, ecstasy rushes through me again.

“That’s right, baby, squeeze my cock with that sweet little cunt of yours. Come with me this time.”

“Hunter!” I cry out as he thrusts into me one last time.

“Fuck yes,” he groans but I barely register it. I’m trembling, little sparks of bliss still pulsing through me.

He pulls out slowly then rolls over, pulling me so I’m draped across his chest. His hand lightly caresses my back, grabbing my ass and pulling me closer. This is unexpected and I don’t know what to make of it. I’d never guess Hunter is a cuddler and I’m not really comfortable with it. I’m more the kick them out of my bed type. Unusual for a woman maybe, but that’s just how I am.

“You’re thinking too much, Honor. What is it this time?”

I lift my head from his shoulder.

“I never figured you for a cuddler,” I say.

“Never was before,” he grunts.

I’m not sure what to say to that. He keeps implying he sees me as different from other women. Hell, he keeps
calling
me his woman. But for how long? I need to move. Get cleaned up and out of this room. I need space to figure us out. He doesn’t argue when I pull out of his arms but I can see he isn't happy about it. Oh well, life's a bitch, ain't it?

I look around and see my bag in the corner. He must have dropped it there when I was in the shower. I grab it and step into the bathroom, shutting the door. I consider locking it but I’m sure that will just set Hunter off. Instead, I clean up and dig around for clothes. No clean underwear so I guess I’m going commando. I bet he’ll just love that. I find a tank top and skirt that’s a few indecent inches above my knees and walk out barefoot. He’s already left the room so I head back downstairs to the kitchen. Ryder whistles when I enter. Hunter who’s sitting at the counter nursing a beer arches his eyebrows.

“I hope you don’t go out in public in that get up,” he says.

I help myself to a beer and lean against the counter in front of him. “I’ve been buying my own clothes for a long time now,” I say calmly, even though my heart is racing at the possessiveness stamped on his face.

An assessing gleam enters his eyes that makes me nervous. What the hell is he cooking up now? He tips his beer back for another drink. I can’t help but stare as his lips curl around the opening. Damn. Everything about him turns me on.

“I guess you could wear it to the fight. I’m getting in the cage next time.”

Holy fuck. I know from Walker and Grace there's a big fight scheduled next weekend. I don’t even protest his trying to dictate my fashion choices. I can’t get the image of him fighting Lake earlier out of my mind. Hot and sweaty. So damned primal. God, it gets me going just remembering. He grins at me.

“Like that idea, do you?” he drawls, standing and walking around the counter. He gets up close and leans in to speak softly in my ear. “What gets you wet, baby? Watching me fight? Or just any fight?”

I like watching the fights, yeah, but this reaction? This is all Hunter.

“Just you,” I whisper, giving him the truth for some insane reason.

His hand slides up the inside of my thigh and I know I should move away. I’ve never been an exhibitionist and two of his men are in the room. But damn, I want him to touch me again. He’s watching me carefully. Expectantly. Like he’s leaving this decision to me. Fucking hell.
He
likes it. He gets off being watched. And damn, I think I’m game. I shift closer and he smiles as his hand slides under my skirt. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he thrusts his fingers inside me and my legs wobble.

“Fuckin’ A, Honor,” my sister says behind me. “When you go bad you go all out, doncha?”

Heat floods through me and not the good kind. I’m mortified. I press my face against Hunter’s neck and hope to disappear. No such luck. Hunter removes his fingers and wraps me in his arms. I shouldn’t enjoy the protective embrace so much, but I do and I know it won’t last long when I glance up at his face. He has that cold hard look again. I’m not surprised when he basically orders me to leave.

“Why don’t y’all go upstairs and get you unpacked, sweetheart? I need to talk to the guys.”

I twist to see everyone is here. Grace and Lynn are watching with unconcealed curiosity. I know I’m getting interrogated ASAP. Shit. Much as I want to know about Wayne Cox, I know Hunter isn't telling me a damned thing with an audience. Maybe not at all. So I nod and step back. Before I can leave he takes my chin and tilts my face so I can see in his eyes.

“Don’t worry so much,” he says. Then he pecks me on the lips and slaps my ass. His hand lingers longer enough for a quick squeeze. “Go on, baby. We’ll have dinner when you're done. This time you
are
going to eat.”

I nod, there isn’t anything to say. I'm not thrilled about being alone with Grace and Lynn and the questions I know are coming, but I'm suddenly starving so I want to get it over with.

“Outside. Let’s get the grill lit,” Hunter says as the we leave the room.

Chapter Six

Honor

“Dayum,” Grace mutters when we walk into Hunter’s bedroom. I’m not sure if it's what she witnessed downstairs that she’s reacting to or the room. Though Walker is building her a house across the street. Surely she knew what she’d end up with. Must be my suddenly going dark side then. Grace drops two Victoria’s Secrets bags on the bed and turns to look me over.

“Tell us everything. And we want all the dirty little details.”

I sigh. Of course they do and I am so not ready for that. I look around and spot boxes in one corner that weren’t there before. The clothes Ryder brought I guess, and go to open one. Yep. Looks like he pulled everything out of my closet and tossed them in still on the hangers. The jerk. This is a crime against fashion. Forget that hadn’t been sure I even wanted them back earlier. I grab a handful and walk to the closet, gaping when I step inside. The damned thing is as big as the bedroom, and it’s huge.

“Holy shit,” Lynn mutters behind me. “It’s a fashion addict’s wet dream in here.”

They both give me a look and burst out laughing.

“I am not that bad,” I say defensively. That starts them up again. Okay, I totally am.

She’s right, too. The closet is as awesome as the kitchen. It’s huge. There are rails on every wall and a huge chest in the center. I’m surprised to see several suits hanging on one side. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hunter in a suit, but I bet he's pretty fucking hot in one. There are also jeans and T-shirts and dress shirts, but the other three walls are free which leaves more than enough space for me. After we hang all my clothes, which don’t even fill one wall, I turn to the chest and start opening drawers. The top ones on one side are for jewelry, the ones under them for clothes. They’re all empty. Like he’s just been waiting for me to move in.

The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once. What the fuck am I doing? I walk out into the bedroom and sink onto the bed. He’s a criminal. He’s basically a crime boss. Whatever. They don’t call it that but really how else can I describe it? The mob, a syndicate, a gang? How deeply involved do I dare get with him? He makes me hot as hell, and oh does he deliver, but is he gonna stick around? Do I want him to? What if he goes to prison and leaves me alone? Where the hell does that leave me? Broken. That’s where. If I had any sense I’d get out of here now. Obviously, I have no sense.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” my sister asks. I look up at Lynn and Grace, both watching me with worried expressions.

“Where should I start?” I ask, trying to make light of the situation before I give into the urge to scream. “Someone broke into my house. I had sex with Hunter. It's been an interesting day.”

That’s an understatement. It’s impossible to miss the curious looks.

“And?” Grace prods. “Do tell.”

“It was pretty awesome.” Like ruined for all other men awesome. Okay I know that’s a dramatic over statement, but I’m not sure it isn’t pretty close to true either. That would suck because I just don’t know if this will work long, or even short term, between the two of us.

“How do you do this? I know what he is. Hell, you two were both cops.”

They exchange a look and shrugging one shoulder like it’s no big deal, Lynn says, “I love Trace. If I want to be with him I have to accept there are some things I’m never going to know. I know it seems crazy, but it is what it is.”

“Same for me and Walker,” Grace says softly.

And okay, I get that. I do. They all have long histories together. But I don’t and I don’t love Hunter. He doesn’t love me. I’m drawn to him but that’s just sex. Right? Sad thing is I know how hard I could fall. I have to decide soon. Leave, or just enjoy it while it lasts. I can’t believe we’d ever work permanently. I mean, what the hell do we even have in common? Standing, I sigh and go to unpack the rest of my things. I don’t know how long I’m staying but there’s no point in leaving things in bags and boxes.

It doesn’t take nearly enough time and before I know it, the task is finished and Lyn and Grace help me carry the empty boxes downstairs. We leave them by the front door and make our way to the kitchen, and then out back. I should be over my surprise at this house by now, but somehow I’m not.

The doors open onto a stone patio that stretches the length of the house. There is a comfortable sitting area with a couple of couches, chairs, and tables as I step outside. To the right is a brick wall. A counter with a sink, prep area, and mini fridge line it. Running perpendicular to it and facing the back of the house is a huge brick grill. A few yards beyond that is a shimmering, enticing pool. For a moment I consider changing into my suit, but I decide against it. I’d rather get some answers before I make myself more comfortable in Hunter’s house.

I join Lynn and Grace in one of the chairs. Trace hands me and Grace a beer and Lynn a bottle of water. I've noticed she hasn’t been drinking the last couple of times we've hung out, but I don’t mention it while we're surrounded by all the guys. I watch Hunter check the grill instead. The evening seems so ordinary and that just feels surreal. Before I can get a grip, Hunter lifts me, steals my seat, and pulls me down across his lap. If anyone finds it odd they keep it to themselves. Thank God. He’s warm and hard and comforting under me, surrounding me, and I begin to relax as the conversation flows around us.

“How’s the book coming?” Lake asks.

I look over to hear Lynn’s answer. She was a cop for a few years, but quit when Trace returned home after spending ten years in prison. I know she always blamed herself for his being there and she pushed herself damned hard because of it. Thank God, it’s not like that anymore. Trace takes care of her. Makes her take time for herself. After she left law enforcement, she went back to school and she’s recently taken up writing.

“It’s a lot of fun,” she answers, then grins. “That probably means I’m doing something horribly wrong.”

He laughs. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

Conversation remains light and easy through dinner and before I know it everyone is leaving. I stay in the kitchen and busy myself with cleaning dishes while Hunter sees them out. After a moment, he returns and leans his hip against the counter as I finish loading the dishwasher. I’m suddenly nervous. Now what?

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks.

I’m pretty sure I could catch flies. It's not exactly the kind of proposition I expect and I’m struck silent for a moment. What the hell is going on between us? What does he want from me? It would be so much easier if it was just sex. His eyes narrow a bit as he studies me.

“What are you thinking now, sweetheart? Surely there is nothing wrong with watching a little TV.”

“Of course not,” I answer. “Lead the way.”

He takes my hand, pulls me into that sunken living room and straight to the couch. He sprawls back into the corner, pulling me so I’m sitting between his thighs, my back to his chest. A second later the television clicks on and I see the remote in his hand as his arms wrap around me. His grip is snug, but not too tight. Warm and possessive. I should probably protest, but he feels so damned good and I’ve had a hell of a day. I close my eyes and let the world fall away.

***

I jerk awake from a dream I thankfully don’t remember, just heart pounding fear and a sense of extreme urgency. For a couple of minutes, I lay silent and tense, unsure of where I am. It comes back to me in a rush. Creepy guy following me. Creepy guy breaking into my house and…Nope. Not going there. And Hunter. I roll my head on the pillow. He is a different kind of dream.

He’s sprawled on his stomach next to me, the sheet pooled at his waist. His face is turned towards me, eyes closed, breathing deep and easy. He’s looks so calm. Serene. He’s so damned gorgeous my heart races. I still can’t quite believe I’m here. There’s just enough light coming through the window to see the ink on his back. A coiled rattlesnake, head raised to strike. It’s intricate, black and white, and surprisingly alluring. The words aren’t there but I can imagine
Don’t Tread On Me
inked under the snake. It suits him. I resist the urge to reach out and trace the fine lines, and slip out of bed instead.

It must be around six, because the sun is beginning to streak through the drapes covering the windows. I find clean clothes and hurry through a shower. I want to explore the house without Hunter looming over me. I exit his bedroom and check out the other rooms on the second floor. Only two of them are furnished. One is dark and masculine, but pretty generic. I figure it’s a guestroom.

The other is pink and purple and girly. It must have been decorated for Mercy. I can see her touch here, though I know she’s never lived in this house. I wonder what Hunter thinks of his baby sister’s career choice. I’ve always been baffled by it. Mercy owns an honest to God brothel. It’s pretty swanky too. I’ve been there a couple of times for lunch. She’s a couple years younger than me, so we didn’t hang out in the same crowd in school. Honestly, I really only know her now because she and Faye are such good friends. I hear the front door open and hurry to the landing to see who it is. It’s like thinking about her conjured her up. She’s standing in the foyer, grinning up at me like a very pleased loon.

“Well, it’s about damned time,” she drawls. "I had to come see this for myself."

I rush down, not wanting Hunter to interrupt just yet.

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just temporary.”

Mercy has been trying to hook me and Hunter up for a couple years now. I have never figured out why and I don’t want to discuss it now.

“Yeah, right,” she says. Then she holds up a grocery bag. “Breakfast? Knowing my brother there’s not much edible in the fridge.”

“Sure.”

I follow her to the kitchen where she lays out two cartons of eggs, a package of bacon, a package of sausage, hash browns, and frozen biscuits. Seems like a lot for just three of us. She sees my curious expression.

“Lake caught me outside. Once he heard breakfast, he invited himself. He’ll probably bring Ryder too. Good thing I anticipated that.”

Her voice has an edge to it I’ve never heard. I’d ask what’s wrong but I recognize her stubborn expression. Hunter has the same one. When I see it, I know she’s going to avoid my questions. Instead, I move around the kitchen to help her out. I’d thought yesterday it was perfect, like it was designed for me, and realize with a surge of pleasure that it was. I’d totally forgotten a late night phone call with Hunter a couple of months ago. He’d interrupted a home improvement show--my guilty pleasure--with the call. But since the program was redoing a kitchen he’d asked me what I’d do if money was no limit. That explained the black appliances and subway tile backsplash, the butcher block on the center island and creamy cool marble under my bare feet.

“When did he redo the kitchen?” I ask. I doubt it was originally designed this way.

She turns from laying out bacon in a sizzling pan, a small frown of concentration marring her brow.

“About six weeks ago, I guess.” She shrugs. “If you don’t like it I’m sure he’ll change it to whatever you want. Helps when you own the company and they'll get it done quick.”

“No,” I murmur. “It’s perfect as it is.”

There is even a section of wall that is a chalkboard. At the moment it’s bare, but I can imagine filling it with notes, needed items, or menu ideas. Damn. Whatever game Hunter is playing with me, he’s determined to win. I’m not sure if I want to be won, though. Not like this. It feels more like bribery or he’s trying to buy me. The idea twists my stomach in knots. Mercy waves off my offer to help with breakfast so I explore the downstairs more thoroughly than yesterday. I’d missed two rooms then. The first is a masculine office that looks well lived in. One wall is windows, one cabinets, and one bookshelves. There are two monitors on a large desk and two comfortable looking armchairs in front of it. I back out. Hunter probably doesn’t want me intruding on this space. But when I get to the last door in the hall, I step into a room that makes me fall a little in love. Just call me Belle.

It’s a library, large and airy, with a couple of desks and sofas. I immediately decide to claim the desk in front of the French doors on the back wall. It overlooks the pool and back yard. I circle the room, reading titles, trying to get an insight into his mind. There’s a lot of nonfiction covering a range of topics from boxing to real estate management. Not surprising given his various businesses. The fiction is eclectic. Thrillers, classics, science fiction and fantasy, military, and even the odd romance here and there.

“What do you think?” he asks behind me. His presence is so startling I about jump out of my skin. I slowly turn to face him. He’s wearing jeans and a tight white t-shirt. How he manages to make that look so sinful is beyond me.

“I think the man that built this house and filled this library is an enigma,” I say softly, almost a whisper. It’s nothing less than the truth, but I can’t tell if my answer annoys him or pleases him. He remains expressionless as he looks around.

“I always liked reading,” he finally says. “Knowledge is power, right?”

There’s something I’m tempted to call vulnerability in his voice but I just can’t reconcile that emotion with the hard man I know.

“Yes,” I agree, then change the subject. “Breakfast is probably ready.”

He steps forward, giving me an intense hooded look that makes my stomach do a slow flip flop. His arms are around my waist before it even occurs to me to run.