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Lexi
Today I’m feeling anxious and it’s not like me. Then the reason for it comes flooding back as soon as I open my eyes. Today is Sunday, and we are expected at Hunter’s family for lunch. It’s way out in the Hamptons but Hunter has arranged a private helicopter to take us there, which I’m a little excited about but dreading the destination.
I don’t do families. I don’t do social gatherings full stop and I will need to dress myself in my role as Hunter’s girlfriend to stand any chance of getting through this. Lexi Mackenzie hates families and for a very good reason.
She killed her own.
Just thinking of that dark time almost causes the past to blind me and drag me under. Recognizing the need to change direction and fast, I edge out of bed and head to the shower and pray my demons don’t follow me.
As I soap my body, I turn my thoughts to the man who is never far away. Hunter has been a nice surprise. I thought he would be an asshole 24/7. My stalking painted a messy picture of bold, angry strokes of black and gray. There was no light to his story, and I wondered about a man like that. Having now met him, I understand that those brush strokes disguise a much more beautiful painting underneath, one I want to discover which is unlike me. But Hunter, there’s something deep inside telling me he’s special, and yet I’ve scared the shit out of him for a very good reason. I recognized that the moment I saw him and my defense mechanism swung into place. I warned him off to save him—from me.
By the time I’m dressed, I wonder if my choice is good enough. A simple white dress with a silk scarf wrapped around my neck. Huge white shades perch on the top of my head and low white heels finish off the outfit. I look respectable enough, I guess, but will I pass the test because my stalking of Hunter’s family revealed a dynasty behind him?
His father Henry Blake is the founder of Blake holdings, a company that dabbles in just about every investment fund going. Maybe that’s where Hunter learned his craft. It certainly places him there on his resume and I wonder when the protegee became the master because Hunter has risen to the top at break neck speed.
His mom, Priscilla Blake, is a queen of society as you would expect. Polished perfection kept young by the surgeon’s scalpel. Keeping the designer shops in business and enjoying a life the rest of us can only dream about. His sister, Beatrice Blake, is currently jobless and living off her allowance. Having just finished college she is ‘on the market’ as they say, for a husband and her mom is parading her around society with a fucking big ‘for sale’ sign around her neck.
Then there’s his brother, Adam Blake, a few years younger than Hunter and working alongside his father in the family business. None of them look remotely like Hunter and I sense a story there. Now I’m about to meet them and for some reason it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth because the look in Hunter’s eyes when he speaks of them, tells me this is going to be a difficult day ahead.
As I head off to meet the man himself, I feel the nerves dancing along beside me. He always has this effect on me and for some reason I want to make him proud to have me beside him. Maybe I feel inferior to these people, I suppose it’s because I don’t fit into their world. I’m still scum from a trailer park and I can’t shake the humble beginnings that have tattooed themselves on my soul as a permanent reminder of where I came from.
As soon as I see Hunter, my breath hitches and my mouth waters. He is standing by the window looking out across the city, and I wonder what he’s thinking right now. He always appears lost in thought, and I take a moment to admire the perfection that stands before me. His dark hair is freshly washed and slightly damp, his clothing smart casual and I run my gaze the length of him, taking in his polo shirt revealing those strong muscular arms decorated with ink that rarely see the light of day disguised underneath his corporate uniform. The black jeans he is wearing reveal a relaxing of the rules for one day in the week. The rest of the time he wears his trademark black suit and white shirt and yet now, relaxed and in his own environment, he seems even more powerful if that’s possible.
He turns and watches me approach, and I feel my skin heat at the lazy way he allows his eyes to roam my body. It feels as if he’s running a feather down my skin and I shiver with something that feels a lot like desire. He strips everything away and leaves me shaking before him because he is the most intense man I’ve ever met and I’ve lived with Ryder King, the picture that sits beside the word in the dictionary. If Hunter’s picture was accompanying a word, it would be super-intensity because he is so dark it makes me stop breathing around him just waiting for his next move. I want that move to be toward me for some reason, and yet how? He’s a mission, it will end successfully I hope but it will end.
“Lexi, you look beautiful.”
For some reason it feels as if compliments don’t come easily from him, and I smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He smiles a lazy grin that totally transforms his face, and we shift a little closer for some reason. “So…”
I’m not sure what I want to say really because I feel like a girl standing before her date on prom night. Anticipation, excitement and a desire to make this day count, are swirling around me right now as I want something more than I’ve ever wanted anything in life—him.
To my surprise, he extends his hand and mine flies to grasp it like a sprinter first one off the blocks. His thumb rubs along the length of mine, and I watch in fascination as his eyes darken and fail to disguise the lust in them. It unnerves me a little because this man always gets what he wants without even trying and part of me wants to be the exception to that rule but then again, I would be denying myself something so desirable I just don’t think I’m strong enough.
For a moment, we stand awkwardly and then his low husky voice says something that is long overdue already. “Maybe we should practice some more.”
“Practice what?”
I sound like a freaking idiot as my voice shakes, and I recognize the need in it as he shifts a little closer. “You said yourself, we need to act convincing and I’m afraid if you were my girlfriend looking like you do now, I would struggle to keep my hands off you.”
“Oh.” I have no smart answer to that and lick my lips because my mouth has gone decidedly dry.
He shifts a little closer and his eyes strip any resistance away from me, as he whispers, “Maybe we should get this over with, bite the bullet as they say and step up our game.”
“Ok.” My heart is beating frantically as he offers me something I want more than anything right now and I watch as if in slow motion as his hand reaches up and wraps around my head, pulling my face to his in one sweeping practiced move. Now we are standing so close I can feel the heat from his body and his soft breath dancing against my skin like a whispered promise. As I tilt my face to his, his lips descend onto mine and the contact is the most welcome feeling in the world. I part my lips and he enters my private world and his tongue dances a victory dance inside.
As we kiss, he pulls me in deeper, a strong hand at the small of my back, pressing me against his hard body where mine apparently desires to be. A small moan escapes from somewhere and I’m mortified to realize it’s from me. It’s as if he is weaving a spell around my heart and only he can break it because I am falling so fast, hard and deep for a man who is so far out of my comfort zone, I should be creating distance not magic.
Hunter’s kiss is like the man himself, dominant, powerful and edgy. It moves mountains and shatters walls because he consumes every thought in my head right now. He is forbidden fruit of the most decadent kind, and I am in no hurry to end this unexpected delight.
His hand holds my head in place as he devours my mouth and I am so wet for him I now need to go and change my underwear. Thinking on it, I need to pack some spares because if he kisses me again in front of his family, I could be very embarrassed if I sat down. For some reason, this man is my perfect fit and however long I’ve got him for, I intend to make the most of it.
Pressing into him, I love how his body molds around mine and his arm pulls me in deeper and I feel his hard cock throbbing against me. Feeling slightly wicked, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair and love the way he groans against my mouth. I love how I affect him and adore how he affects me. I want him - badly and I will not deny myself this moment of pleasure that has been building since we first met. He is like a parcel at a kid’s party, the one where it’s wrapped in many layers with a sweet inserted between each one. Disappointed not to have reached the gift inside, but grateful for the small taste of pleasure before removing the next layer. A parcel of anticipation that only the winner gets to enjoy the full treat inside and I want to rip this parcel open and claim my prize.
Minutes pass and we don’t stop and I know he feels the same because who practices like this? It’s just an excuse for something we both apparently want and so when he pulls back and once again strokes my face, looking deep into my eyes with a lust-filled darkened gaze, my breath hitches and I stop breathing as he whispers huskily, “Do you feel this Lexi?” He places my hand on his heart and I feel it beating so hard it’s confirmation we’re on the same page. Moving his hand, I place it against my own and smile, “I have one the same.”
He rests his forehead against mine and whispers, “So, this complicates things.”
