Too Much to Lose (4 page)

“So good.” I break away briefly
to drag my lips across her cheek to her ear. “You taste so good.”

I nibble on her lobe, satisfied
with the way her sexy body shudders. Then I capture her mouth again. Jess is
like liquid in my arms, moulding to me. I try to recall why this is such a bad
idea but those thoughts are like smoke in the wind—dispersed by her soft
breasts against me and the feel of her rear as I curve my hands over it.

Noise—the sound of people chatting
and stumbling out the pub threatens to break through my lusty haze but I’m too
scared to let go. I might not get this chance again so I bring a hand to the
back of her neck and grip it tight so I can press deeper than ever before.

Someone pushes into me and I’m
forced to draw away so I can make sure they don’t knock into Jess. I scowl in
their direction but the crowd of pub-goers are already walking unsteadily along
the street.

I turn my attention back to
Jess. She gazes up at me, her skin glowing in the streetlights. Lips puffy,
eyes glazed, she looks insanely beautiful. I still taste her on my tongue.

And I want more.

Her gaze darts up and her brow
creases. “You’re bleeding!”

She steps forward and touches
my brow. I jerk as her slender fingers touch a sore spot on my head. Tugging
her hand away, I find the cut on my forehead. It’s still bleeding but I don’t think
I’ve done any major damage.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You should have it seen to.”

Lifting my fingers away, I
study them. “Nah, it’s not that bad.” I press the sleeve of my black shirt to
my head and dab away what I can. “How’s it look?”

Her lips twist. “Like you’ve
been in a fight.” Those green eyes twinkle with amusement.

I almost forgot the fight. What
the hell has made me so reckless? I’ve probably just screwed up any chance of
getting close to her. “Yeah, about that…”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I shouted.
I’m just not used to anyone acting on my behalf, you know?”

Why does that sadden me? Jess
might seem tough but she needs someone to look after her. Maybe that’s an old
fashioned notion but that’s how my mother raised me. You look after the women
in your life.

But Jess isn’t in my life, I
remind myself. And she’s more than capable of looking after herself.
Con woman,
remember?

“I shouldn’t have let my temper
get the better of me. But you still shouldn’t have to put up with shit like
that.”

“It’s okay, it doesn’t happen
often.” Jess places a hand on my arm, probably trying to placate me.

Unfortunately the sight of that
guy grabbing her isn’t going to be soothed away by one small touch, no matter
how much I like her hands on me. And that she’s admitting it’s happened before
makes me stiffen. What can I do about it though? Stand guard every time she
goes to work? I don’t have any rights over this woman and I definitely don’t
want any.

“Are you likely to lose your
job ‘cause of me?”

She shakes her head and lets loose
a soft smile. “I doubt it.”

“Have you got your phone?”

“Yeah, why?” She pulls out a
cheap mobile phone, hardly the sort of thing I’d expect someone with thousands
tucked away to own.

I snatch it, ignoring her sound
of objection and put my number in her contacts before handing it back. “If
there’s any trouble, give me a call.” She goes to protest and I hold up a hand.
“Please?”

“Fine.”

“If they threaten your job,
I’ll explain it was all me, okay?” And I might end up one step closer to
infiltrating her life and finding the money.

“It’s fine, really.” She
glances over her shoulder at the pub doors. “But I do have to get back or I
will lose my job.”

“Will you call me anyway?” I
ask, hating how desperate I sound. But I need an opening again. I’ve messed up
my plan completely. How else am I going to get back into her life?

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry. I
just can’t right now… it’s not you—”

“It’s me,” I finish for her.
“Yeah, yeah I get it. Just remember to call if you need anything.”

Jess nods and eyes me for a
moment while chewing her bottom lip. “See you, Hunter.”

“Bye, princess.”

I watch the sexy sway of her ass
as she turns and heads back into the pub. The sound of her saying my name rolls
through my head over and over and I bite back a groan. To think I’d been
holding that ass moments go. Damn, what a fucking mess I am. I am totally
screwing up this job. I only hope she calls. Otherwise I’m back to sifting
through paperwork and following leads that are going nowhere.

She’s a hard girl to pin down.
No wonder the client needs help. There’s no way the cops would expend much time
trying to track down his money. She has no Facebook, no email account, nothing
about her online—which is fucking strange in this day and age. No way of
finding out what’s going on in her personal life, which—after three weeks of
following her—seems non-existent. Either she’s very clever or I’ve been too
distracted. Mounting bills and a cute ass tends to do that to a man,

I scrape a hand through my hair
and grimace at the stickiness there. Tonight did not go the way I planned at
all. I hadn’t even intended to kiss her. I was going to take it slow. Try not
to seem like a jerk. Not seduce her or get into a fight over her like—what was
it she said?—a jilted lover. But that’s how I feel now. My heart hurts as though
it’s been a little trampled. I shake my head and shove my hands in my pockets.
I need to get home and get my head straight, figure out exactly how I’m going
to discover her secrets and get paid. 

Jess

A thump at my door drags me
from my sleep. I roll and glance at the clock on my bedside table. Eight a.m.

“Ugh.” I throw my head back
down on the pillow as the knocking continues and I register the pain in my
skull. “Just great,” I mumble to myself.

I didn’t finish work until
three a.m. and barely slept. Hunter refused to leave my thoughts. Hunter
kissing me, touching me,
fighting
for me. It freaked me out—it
freaks
me out—but I can’t help feeling a little excited. No one has ever fought
for me like that. Once I smoothed things over with the boss, everything was
fine. I regret snapping at Hunter, but it’s for the best. It doesn’t matter how
much I want him, I can’t afford for him to get to know me.

I flinch as my headache
amplifies when I lift my head off the pillow. When I come to my feet, the world
sways. “Just great.” A migraine. All I needed. I snatch my robe off the back of
the door and throw it on before stumbling to the front door. I fling it open.
“Yes?”

The woman holding a bunch of
flowers looks startled. Either I’m a wreck or I just bit out my greeting. “Flower
delivery.” She thrusts forward the beautiful bouquet of pink roses, forcing me
to take them. I scowl.

Who would send me flowers? I hunt
for a note but can’t see one. She puts a clipboard in front of me and I somehow
juggle the roses and pen as I sign for them. My vision is blurry from the
migraine so it’s a miracle I manage to write anything. I mumble a thanks, hand
back the pen and retreat gratefully into my apartment.

Flinging the bouquet on the
kitchen counter, I stumble back to my bed, head swimming. I need painkillers.
And fast.

“Shit.”

Nothing in my bedside drawer.
Like an old woman, I stagger to the bathroom and discover nothing there either.
I can’t believe I haven’t stocked up on more painkillers. I get migraines a lot
and I’m normally so careful.

Could I make it to the chemist?
I steady myself against the sink and eye my reflection. I look like death. I
mean
really
look like death. The circles under my eyes make me seem like
a skeleton. Even my usually golden skin looks pale.

With a shake of my head, I go
back to bed, curled over because it’s too painful to stand. Maybe I can sleep
it off. I close my eyes and beg the pain to recede. At some point, I drift but
the agony is still there, stopping me from falling asleep completely. When I glance
at the clock again, it’s ten a.m. This migraine isn’t shifting. I need to get
to the chemist and I can’t afford a taxi. I’m not sure I even trust myself to
stand.

Through my open bedroom door, I
spy the roses waiting on the counter. Could they be from Hunter? His way of an
apology perhaps? It doesn’t seem his style but I can’t think of anyone else who
might send them. Perhaps my boss, Eddie, but that doesn’t sit right either. Too
romantic and not fatherly enough. But how would Hunter even know where I live?
Maybe one of the staff at the pub told him.

Nausea bubbles in my stomach
and I’d cry from the pain if I didn’t think that would make it worse. I need
those damned painkillers. I wrack my brains for how to get some but can’t think
of anything. It doesn’t help my mind is fogged over and the world spins if I
try to open my eyes.

Since moving to London, I’ve
kept myself to myself. My ex and his friends proved to me no one wants to be
friends with an ex porn star. I can’t really blame them. Who wants to be
friends with someone who fucked strangers for a living? And I left what’s
remains of my family—one aunt—far behind long ago. So I have no one to go to.

My phone buzzes. I groan and
regret the sound when it rattles my skull. I reach for my phone on the bedside
table and have to squint at the screen to see it through the blurring of my
vision. I can’t even tell who’s calling but I answer anyway.

“Jess?” Hunter’s deep voice
sends shivers through me. Even with the migraine from hell, he turns me on.

“Hunter?”

“Jess? Is everything okay? You
sound funny.”

I imagine him running a hand
through his hair, his brow furrowed with concern. “Yeah, I… what can I do for
you?”  

“What’s going on, princess?”

“I’m… I’m not well,” I say
feebly, feeling tears well.

“Are you in danger?”

“No, I just…”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“What? No!” I sit up and
immediately fall back against the pillows with a moan.

“I’m coming over.”

“You can’t do that!” I protest,
my voice hoarse.

“I can. You don’t sound good at
all.”

“I’ll be fine.” I won’t. I feel
like my head is going to explode. But I don’t need him knowing that and I sure
don’t need him playing hero.

“I’m coming over.” His tone
brokers no argument.

“Fine,” I huff. “The door is
unlocked.”

“I’ll be there.”

I sink down and bury myself
back under the covers. The pain is still excruciating but knowing Hunter will
be here soon weirdly relieves some of the tension. My mind drifts again, this
time recalling his magical touch and the hardness of his body against mine. He
kissed like I expected him to. Hard, demanding, with a slight edge, but I never
anticipated melting like one of those heroines on the front of old romance
novels.

 A touch to my shoulder jars me
back to reality. I must have dozed off. I drag open my eyes and Hunter’s face
floats in front of me. “You came.”

His brow is furrowed and
there’s extra scruff on his chin. If I was well enough, I’d reach out and touch
it. 

“What’s going on, princess? Are
you sick? Do you need to go to hospital?” He puts a palm to my head and I
flinch before sinking against the comforting warmth of its coarseness. “You
don’t look so good, Jess.”

“I have a migraine.” Do I sound
as pathetic as I feel? “I haven’t got any pills. I’m sorry, you didn’t need to—”

“It’s okay, sweets.”

Tears singe my eyelids. His
soft tone works inside, loosening my composure and a tear escapes. He sweeps it
up with a finger and bundles me into his arms. My head pounds with the movement
but once I’m burrowed against that strong chest, I can almost forget about it. I
grip his T-shirt and the scent of his leather jacket adds to my comfort. I
can’t recall the last time someone held me.

Hunter’s heart beats steadily
against my ear. He feels so vital and warm. I spread my palms over his top and
luxuriate in the taut muscle beneath it. God, even with a migraine I’m turned
on by him. Already, flickers of heat are kindling low in my stomach.

He mutters to me, shushing me
and telling me everything will be okay. It won’t. How can it be when I’m always
going to be hiding from my past? But for now I’m too weak to even consider
that. All I want to do is enjoy the comfort even if it’s just for a day. I
almost smile when I reflect on who is comforting me. You wouldn’t think this
man had such a soft side—not when you see his scruffy chin, bad boy clothing
and the hard glint in his eyes.

“Will you be okay if I leave
you for a moment to get some painkillers?” he asks softly, one hand stroking my
hair.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He separates us and eases me
down. When he tucks me in, I feel like a child again. I remember my mother
putting me to bed, though the memories are hazy as my parents were killed in a
car crash when I was eight. My aunt was kind enough but once I got older and
she got married, everything changed. Even my ex-boyfriend had no sympathy for
my migraines. I should have known he was a jerk when he told me to get over it
and stop being a drama queen.