“Good,” I choke.
“I’m going to try something. Don’t freak out.”
Who says that and expects you not to freak out? Although, it would take a miracle for me to move away from his magic hand.
“Charlie, up.”
He is so quiet I’d forgotten he’s even in here. A little jingle precedes the boisterous pooch launching onto the bed. I don’t have the mental energy for him right now. What is Hunter thinking? I’m not about to share all my feelings with Charlie. He knows this, right?
Hunter’s hand leaves my back, and he snaps his fingers in front of me. “Down.”
The normally crazy dog treads lightly up the mattress, a shadow in the dark room as he spins in a circle, then butts right up to my stomach before curling into a ball. My muscles ache from how tense they are, but as Charlie leans into me, I can’t help but gasp. He’s like a little furnace.
“How does he know?” I finally whisper as Hunter’s hand resumes its perfect pressure on my spine.
“Emotionally, they are extremely intelligent. They can sense pain. He’s always been able to figure out how to offer comfort.”
A hot kernel of jealousy unfurls at the idea of Charlie offering comfort to another hormonal woman. But I stay silent and still. Jealousy indicates I want to be that woman, but I can’t be. I’m not what Hunter needs nor wants—not really. He’s got hiswhole life ahead of him. I have as long as my luck holds out, and I refuse to let anyone else become collateral damage for my survival. My eyes flutter closed as I’m plastered between two males who want to take my pain away. But some pain is ingrained. It’s what keeps me from falling apart as I face my fears and keep my vow to destroy Jonathan. Revenge won’t be sweet, but it will be brutal, and it will be at my hand.
However, right here and now, in this moment, I can let myself dream of a future where I lie in the arms of a man seeking to make my life brighter than I’ve ever experienced. It’s full of wonder, hope, and fulfillment. But it’s a dream, and everyone knows dreams don’t come true.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eleanor
He’s a triple threat.
Ten days. That’s how long I’ve been hiding out at Hunter’s place. In that time, I have had exactly three pings for Christopher’s movements and zero for Jonathan. Christopher’s emails have gotten progressively more aggressive and desperate. His frustration at not being able to track me is getting to him. Plus, my lack of response to a man who enjoys the scent of fear is like a red flag to a bull. I do keep hoping he will give up so I can concentrate on why Jonathan changed his plans.
Hunter smirks from his position next to me at the kitchen island. The large white plates in front of us still have a few crumbs left from the sandwiches we devoured earlier. I cannot fault this man for his culinary skills, and I’m a little afraid of how my brain and body will sulk once I go back to regular takeout eaten alone in front of a computer screen.
This is coupley, right? Working next to someone? I slacked off on my homework on account of the period from Hell that, aspredicted, disappeared the day after Hunter found me bleeding and in pain. But I will start making more of an effort, if for no other reason than Gail will be disappointed if I haven't. Then again, I slept with him—actual restful, peaceful sleep with another human being in the same bed. That is a first, and it’s disconcerting how easy it was for me to pass out sandwiched between the two males in this house. It’s equally perturbing that one of those males is a dog, since I wouldn’t have been caught dead in the same room as one just a few days ago.
I also haven’t forgotten Hunter’s assertion we should be practicing a little touching in the privacy of his apartment so we can appear to be the loved-up couple he’s led his entire MC to believe we are if we venture outside.
“What are you smiling about?” I wonder aloud, my fingers still against my keyboard.
“Tomorrow, Christopher is going to wake up to a shitstorm. His company will drop two hundred million dollars in value, and he’ll be forced to report a data breach to his investors. He’s going to be very busy for the next few weeks, giving us a little breathing room to figure out Jonathan’s next steps.”
Us.I still can’t shake my Hunter-shaped shadow, and as he keeps feeding me awesome home cooked food, I find myself not having the same desire to escape to my own space. On top of his good looks, he’s smart, and that is more appealing to me than anything he can do with his hands or tongue. Or cock. I have to assume his skill in the bedroom is where he will fall down, because if he lives up to what he promises, then he is fucking perfect—and that thought terrifies me.
There’s a ping from his laptop which has me glancing over at his screen. A Zoom meeting? “What’s that about?” I ask.
“It’s my book club.”
I blink. I have spotted him reading his Kindle at least an hour a day. Normally while he is laying on the couch with Charliesprawled on his chest like a blanket. “You are part of a book club?”
“I am.”
“What do you read? Thriller? Mystery?”
He chuckles like there’s some massive secret. “Not exactly.”
With casual indifference to my burning curiosity, he slips off his stool and pops a bag of popcorn in the microwave, takes his laptop to the couch, and returns to grab a beer. “You want one?” he asks, tilting his head toward the open fridge.
I scrunch my nose. “No, thank you.”
“I have wine or gin somewhere.”
