Being close to me means being close to those I love. People who are vulnerable and count on me. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of that. I may never be. Eleanor isn’t a gold digging, power-hungry woman with ideas of becoming royalty in this world. No. Her worth, her goals, her identity are all her own. She is likely richer than me, and definitely smarter. Eleanor Austin doesn’t need me for anything material, and that only makes her more attractive.
She keeps claiming I need a damsel to save, but it’s the opposite. Eleanor doesn’t need my help, my support, or my opinions. To be needed can be a burden. I already have enough people who need me. What I’m lusting after is someone who wants and accepts me for all I am and all I am not. I think I see the same shadows dancing in her eyes, the same demons haunting mine. The ones telling her she’s only good for the quest she is on, that her life means nothing in the grand scheme of things. They tell her she has an important task to complete no matter the cost, that her worth is dependent on her ability to slay the monster.
It’s all bullshit.
I am not some knight in shining armor looking to slay her demons—I’m the man who will protect her back while ensuring her blades are always sharp. The problem with your life being consumed by revenge is the emptiness it leaves behind, hollowing out your humanity each day until your heart only beats to bring justice to those that have wronged you. I can only hope she knows her life is valued by others and takes that into account. In the meantime, I can only remain optimistic I may one day be part of her future.
I throw an arm across my face, blocking my view of the mirror. I have been taken by rage, by the soul-crushing weight of mindless anger. I had to fight my way back once the dust settled and channel myself into a new future, which is how Ifound the Desert Reapers. They enriched my life more than any self-development course or enlightenment quest. Being part of an MC has given me the family I always wanted but never knew how to get. I owe William my life. Without him, I would have self-destructed. My heart skips in my chest. That’s what I see when Eleanor stares at me with eyes everyone else would label as cold. If they stopped and looked a little deeper, they would see the storm crashing against the shore of her resolve, the one she refuses to let in because with that tidal wave will come fear, and there is no room for fear when you are hellbent on destroying the devil in his own lair.
I rub my hands down my face with a huff. I’ve been spinning with these thoughts for hours, plotting a million different ways to get past her defenses while still making her feel safe, but nothing feels right for her.
Charlie whines from his bed in the corner of the room, and I eyeball my pooch who has taken his precious loot with him and tucked it under his mattress. A small smile breaks through the darkness closing in around me. Seems even my dog is smitten with her.
“What’s up? You need out?” I ask.
He raises his head and tilts his head at me with a look I translate as,What do you think, numb nuts?
I slide a pair of boxers on, in case I bump into my pretty little hacker, then Charlie is up and wagging his tail at the door. He’s not normally this enthusiastic for a toilet trip unless he scented something outside before bed, and he needs to double-check its whereabouts. He charges down the hallway, skidding to a halt outside the guest bedroom.
“Oh no, buddy. Keep walking. She will not appreciate being licked by you as a wake up call.”
If anyone is doing the licking, it will be me. I groan. Now I have that in my head. “Come on.” I coax Charlie away fromthe bedroom and out the door, down the stairs, and into the shared enclosed yard. He dives under the bushes, clearly not in need of the toilet, more intent on terrorizing the nighttime wildlife. He growls at something in the corner, near the cast iron fence. I frown as a shadow moves, clear but quiet footsteps hurrying away. It’s not illegal to lurk on the street, but it’s a little suspicious in the middle of the night. I’ll take a look at the surveillance in the morning. There’s no reason to worry Eleanor yet. Right now, I need sleep, and my dog needs to chill the fuck out.
“Charlie, come.”
He huffs like he has better places to be but follows me inside the building. I make sure the outer door is closed and the lock engaged before I triple bolt the apartment door and check the windows in the living area. Did I close the guest bedroom window? I can’t remember. Melissa cleaned and aired the place before we arrived, and she always opens the windows as she knows I hate the stagnant smell.
Eleanor would have closed it, right? Charlie dumps his ass on my foot and swings his gaze between me and the guest bedroom. I groan silently, nodding at my goddamn dog. Guess we are checking her room. I won’t be able to sleep until I know for sure, unable to shake off the chill crawling up my spine. Dislodging Charlie gently, I pad on light feet over to her door. “Stay,” I whisper to him.
He lies down in the hallway and gives me the puppy eyes that normally get him what he wants. In this case, it would be some snuggling with a reluctant female. I grimace, imagining Eleanor being woken by doggy kisses on her face. It’s the one thing I’ve never been able to train out of him, despite explaining how gross it is that he gives people baths with the same tongue he cleans his ass with.
The door handle is cool in my palm as I press it down gently, finding the room bathed in a low glow from the bedside lamp. The gauzy drapes shield Eleanor from my gaze. My shirt is a heap on the floor, and I try not to think about her naked body in the same room as me. The chair is hooked under the door handle of the dressing room. Does that mean she sees me as the bigger threat than the literal strangers that would use the main door? Or is it because she wouldn’t hesitate to use her weapon?
“Eleanor, it’s me,” I say in a low voice, so as to not freak her out. I need to at least alert her I am in her bedroom; I don’t fancy being shot tonight. She doesn’t respond. Must be a heavy sleeper. I stalk over to the window, finding it closed and locked.
“Harder.” Her soft feminine voice flitters through the air and caresses down my spine.
A knot forms in my throat. I don’t know whether I want her to be fucking with me or fucking herself. One is going to make me snort, the other... I should leave.
“Yes… there. Fuck, Hunter, please.”
My cock stiffens in the confines of my boxer briefs. That isn’t her fucking with me. It sounds too desperate, too emotional and on edge. My feet move before my brain comprehends the stupidity of getting closer to Eleanor. But I need to know.
I lean against the bottom post of the bed. My fingers graze the material, hesitating for a moment before sweeping it back and tucking it behind my shoulder, drinking in the nirvana before me. The top of the sheet pools at her waist, her breasts bared to the air. One of her hands tugs at the metal, twisting the piercing until she hisses, pulling harder than I would have thought pleasurable. Her hair splays over the pillow, and I spot the headphones tucked in her ears. Now it makes sense. What is she listening to? My eyes caress her in what I can only imagine is a look that even she feels. Her back arches, highlighting her strength and making my mouth water. I should leave. Thismoment is private, vulnerable. She will murder me if she finds me hovering like a creep.
I. Can’t. Move. Can’t tear my eyes away from the gift in front of me. Her hand lifts from her breast and joins the other one above her head. Her ass lifts, and her back bows, but my face crumples in a frown. She’s not touching herself, yet she’s acting like she’s on the edge. A brief thought of a guy buried between her legs makes a hot flash of jealousy run through me. It’s irrational as there is no one here but me and the goddess lying on her altar.
Then I hear it. The soft yet unmistakable vibrations breaking the silence. Her body twists like she’s chasing the sensation. Her fingers run over a small device clutched in her palm.
Fuck. Me.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard. Her lips part, and so do mine. Eleanor Austin is about to explode in front of me. Her soft pants cover the vibrations, her knees coming together under the sheet, and I send a prayer to whatever deity is looking out that it drops to reveal her fully to my gaze. The vibrations get softer, and she groans low in the back of her throat. Oh shit, I think she’s going to be a lioness roaring her release to the world.
My palms ache to feel her, and I forcibly cross my arms over my chest. I am never going to get this out of my head. Ever.
She twists her hips, chasing the release out of reach.Come on, beautiful, let go.
Three things happen at once, so fast I can’t stop them, but also impossibly slow so my brain registers every single detail of the utter fuck up.
