Inside Out (7 page)

Olivia may not have had much experience, but Hunter’s body did, and she began a mindless chant of his name, over and over again. If possible, Shane’s penis grew harder and larger as he gripped the sheets on either side of her head and groaned over her ribcage. Her womb contracted and they came together, Shane savagely pumping his hot seed into her, shivering over her.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him and, dazed, she watched the erratic rise and fall of his chest until his breathing settled. She looked up into his eyes. He smiled, a sheepish grin.

The same grin he wore when he was up to no good. Or something good. Like the time he’d organized a surprise birthday party for her.

He’d spent the entire day away from her, just sending one little “Happy Birthday, see you tonight” text. At first she’d been surprised, but then as the day passed by she got more and more annoyed until finally at dinnertime, when he came through the door with that grin, she knew something was up. The romantic dinner for two at a restaurant had turned out to be a bash with all her dearest friends, most of which she hadn’t seen since University. Shane had flown them over from the four corners of the world and put them up in the swankiest hotel where he threw a surprise dinner party in his wife’s honor.

Shane sat up and Olivia caught a glimpse of his own tattoo,
Olivia Forever
. She stared at it, dazed. He got it after her…death. He’d loved her that much, to want to remember her on his skin forever. Olivia held onto this thought that kept her grounded in the reality of their love when she’d been deprived of everything.

Before she could stop herself, she pointed. “Do the ladies mind? About…Olivia?”

Slightly caught off guard, Shane straightened and sighed softly. “Olivia was my wife.”

God, this was so hard. “Was?”

Shane sighed and ambled to the dresser, never stopping to look at her. He pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a blue T-shirt, closing the dresser again with his hip as he always did. Here were all their familiar movements, their daily routine, and yet she watched him move about in their world like a complete stranger. At least she was to him.
Oh, Shane, why did this have to happen to us? I would still be here and you would still love me and—

He raked a hand through his thick black hair avoiding her eyes. “She was kidnapped. She died as they were returning her to me.”

“I’m so sorry. How…how long ago?”

“Fourteen months.”

Fourteen
months?
Where the hell had she been all this time? “Where is she b-buried?”

Shane looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. Too many questions. He was a former commando, after all, not just your ordinary bloke.

“Her body has never been found.”

And now
he
’d found somebody else, albeit for a night or two. She knew she—no,
Hunter
attracted him tremendously.

He had never been like this in bed with her, and now she realized she’d been sleeping with a stranger. She never knew what Shane wanted and now, through the filter of another woman’s body, Olivia saw her husband for the first time. The real man behind the tender smiles. He was a commando in bed, too, telling her what to do, how he wanted her, how to move.

All these years he had restrained himself, never telling her what he wanted. He was scared to hurt her, Miss Prim and Proper, so he’d become mild, gentle. A commando couldn’t be gentle. A commando
killed
.

Olivia struggled to her feet, still a bit sore from his vigorous lovemaking and noticed her white bathrobe still hanging on the inside of the bathroom door.
Oh, Shane, honey!
She wanted to soothe him.
It’s me, your Livvy. Look at me.
She whirled around and stared at him, but the words didn’t come out. “Can I wear this?”

His face fell. “Uh, actually, you can use the blue one.”

Olivia’s face tightened, almost offended by his request, yet grateful to him that he wouldn’t let other women touch her belongings.

How many of them had been here, on this boat, after she’d…goodness, she still couldn’t even think it. She was
dead
. Or at least her body was, lying somewhere at the bottom of the North Sea. He had sworn he loved her. He had married her. And he was trying to forget her.

Olivia realized she would never be herself anymore. She’d been to the other side, seen him with another woman’s eyes. She wasn’t simply Hunter on the outside, but some parts of her lurked inside her as well. There had to be. Olivia would never ever talk or even think like this. But, she thought with a sigh, she’d have to get used to a lot of changes from now on. Afternoons like this, lying around naked with Shane, she could get used to. Absolutely. She lowered her eyes to the Leo sign on her wrist. It was gone.

Olivia opened her eyes at the sound of Shane’s distant whisper above deck.

“She used a false name to rent a boat? Alfie, are you sure?”

Olivia’s heart began to pound. Shane had wasted no time informing the police about her. How could he one moment make scorching love to her and then the next blow the whistle on her? From then on Olivia knew she would never tell Shane who she was. He would
never
believe her.

If someone had tried to get rid of Hunter, Alfie would already be on his way with the questions. Olivia only hoped he would never know Hunter had a part in her kidnapping. She had to run. And fast.

Chapter Seven

When Shane returned below deck, she lay stretched like a panther, her feline eyes wide, watching him.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a grin as he bent for a kiss. At first she hesitated, but then met him halfway and pulled him down to deepen it. Christ, he wanted her again already. He hadn’t
stopped
wanting her. Watching her sleep and not touching her had been torture. Obviously, she was in big trouble. He’d called Alfie to let him know a killer wanted Hunter and given a description of her. Alfie had acted like Hunter incarnated the Holy Grail and was more dangerous than Mata Hari. He also told Shane to watch his back and keep in touch at all times. Shane had hung up on that warning.

Bloody ridiculous. Since when had there ever been secrets between them? It must have been something big for Alfie to act like that. Well, he’d soon find out.

Shane eyed her. If last night she had been wired and wild, this morning she slept, sated, and bearing the air of a woman who’d been royally fucked to the hilt. He still smelled their arousal on them, and combined with the view of her long legs and the memory of her, he grew rock hard all over again. He coaxed his cock down, but she yawned and stretched again, the hem of his T-shirt hiking over her pussy. He swallowed, his eyes riveted to her black heaven. This woman would break his heart. Man, he was glad she’d be sticking around.

“How are you doing?” he croaked.

“Mmm, I’m ravenous. Can you go get the food and clothes now please? I need to cover myself with something decent.”

Shane grinned, and he bent over her on the bed. “If it were up to me, I’d have you naked twenty-four-seven.” He circled her waist with one hand, the other cupping her chin to kiss her, trying to ignore the brushing of her breasts against his arm.

She pushed him away. “Clothes, then food, please.”

“Sure thing. What size are you?”

She eyed him uncertainly.

He grinned. “Never mind, I think I have an idea.”

“You do?”

“Babe, your body is imprinted in my mind, and I don’t even know your name, yet.”

“Hunter.”

“Hunter and then…?”

“Just Hunter,” she whispered and pulled him in for one more kiss—a hard one—before she let him go.

Shane grinned and touched his index finger to the tip of her nose. “Sure you don’t want to stay naked?” A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. He hadn’t done that in ages.

“When you get back, I’ll still be here, hopefully.”

“You’re safe. No one’s followed us. But in the event, I want you to use this.” He pulled a gun out from his duffel bag under the bed.

Her eyes widened, and she recoiled in horror. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly.”

“Let me show you. It’s easy.” He released the catch and showed her where to put her hands. “Always aim for the midsection to kill. The gun will lurch upward. If someone comes on board without permission, shoot first and ask questions later. Do you understand?”

Hunter eyed him, thin-lipped. “Okay. If you say so.”

* * *

Shane ducked into a Marks & Spencer’s where he’d find everything he needed. At the front of the chain store on the left was women’s wear, and Shane smiled at the flashes of turquoises, blues, and whites strewn across the mannequins, the shelves, and the racks. They reminded him of a tropical sea.

What should he get her? He didn’t know anything about Hunter, and he had no idea what clothes she wore. Should he get jeans? A flowery dress? Highly unlikely, judging by the black nail polish. Not to mention her pierced eyebrow, or her skimpy white bikini bottom. And what a bottom. The girl was beyond beautiful. His cock hardened at the memory of the way she had become instantly wet and the way she moved under his fingers, beckoning him in.

“This is ridiculous,” Shane muttered to himself as he kept one hand over his bulging crotch, raking through female clothing. “If I can’t control a hard-on, people will think I’m a pervert.” He clumsily went through the rack, knocking a few items to the ground in the process, trying to think of any woman he may have met that matched her in any way.

Sexually, she had no equals. Undoubtedly a flirt, confident of her body, though not fully aware of her effect on him. He, too, was surprised, amazed, even, by her. But the expression in her eyes, the fire in them, kept haunting him. Uncanny, the way she watched him, speaking with those eyes. As if they’d been lovers in a previous life enjoying a secret code. He could feel her feelings, as if they had a lifetime bond.

This girl could’ve been the queen of Egypt for all he knew, so goddamn beautiful he wanted to keep her there forever and make love to her over and over again until he passed out from bloody exhaustion.

Shane would have to track down the shooter to restore her equanimity. And his. He couldn’t stand to see the fear in her eyes. It had lasted the whole trip down the coast, right up until he’d anchored and put his arms around her. He’d turned her fear into desire.

But this morning she’d been jumpy, frazzled, almost like the guardian of some big secret. If someone wanted to kill her and Alfie reacted like this, something was up. He believed her when she said she hadn’t done or seen anything illegal. But still, someone wanted to wipe her out. Not on his watch. Not ever.

He’d protect her until the end of the world, no matter what crime she’d committed. He’d fucked her, yeah, but that wasn’t it. He’d done it with feeling. When had that last happened to him? With Olivia he’d always been delicate. Afraid to hurt her. Afraid to show her his dark side.

And now, with Hunter, he was in deep.
Too
deep. Like it or not, he had to admit they were strangely bound together. Not only because he felt responsible for her safety, but also because he couldn’t imagine himself letting her further than three feet from him. That was it—after months and months of staying uninvolved he’d now, somehow passed the point of no return.

He finally settled on some jeans, blouses, Nike tennis shoes—there was no telling how long they’d have to run—a few cotton jumpers for colder evenings, some flat shoes, and a spring raincoat.

He went into the lingerie section and for his equanimity and almost tamed hard-on, he forced himself to not think of what she would look like in the lace panties and bras on the racks.

He chose pretty, but sensible pastel cotton wear, thinking that not even a chastity belt could keep him away from her. He then glided through the cosmetics and toiletry section and scooped up anything similar to Olivia’s stuff at home.

Olivia.

He hadn’t had the guts to clear the house of any of her belongings. Why, when the sight of it triggered all his memories? Not that he needed to think to remember. Olivia was always in his head. He couldn’t forget her, didn’t want to.

A quick trip to the M&S food section for readymade meals, bread, wine, and desserts—he already had the basics on the
Olivia
—and out he went. Back to his mystery beauty.

When he returned to his boat, the steps leading down echoed with the emptiness of the craft, and he knew she’d done a runner before he descended below deck.

What he didn’t expect was the bloke aiming a gun at his head.

Chapter Eight

In pure Hunter style, Olivia hitchhiked her way back to London. The male response was immediate, given the fact that she looked like a porno waitress in the uniform she’d stolen at the back of the pub in the village. A bit tight and short, the gazes she had caught confirmed that the unfortunate waitress must have been a lot shorter than Hunter. Most women were, including herself.

Once in London, Olivia took the DLR, Docklands Light Railway, to their home in Canary Wharf using the few pounds she’d found in the waitress’ pockets. But hey—it was all about survival. Steal or be stolen from
.
And Olivia had been robbed of so much more than a few coins.

She’d washed in a restroom and nicked some Cadbury bars from a snack stand. She was quick, but if anyone had noticed, she’d been lucky. Men were such suckers for brunettes.

Olivia resolved to call Shane, eventually, and have him come home—the last place they’d look for her. She’d reveal her identity to him and explain what had happened, because so far she hadn’t found a better solution than the truth.

Maybe she could stay incognito and get him to hire her as his housemaid? He was pretty partial to Hunter’s good looks. As a matter of fact, she was sure he’d more than happily jump
her
bones again. Good Lord, where did that come from? She didn’t think like
that
. Well, nor did she steal or hitchhike, but it had all gone rather smoothly if she might say so herself.