Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hunter
Practice makes perfect.
T he downside of living in a town filled to the brim with MC members and their families is grocery shopping takes forever. Everyone wants to stop and talk to you about their lives, problems, queries, and concerns. Especially as the VP. All I wanted to do was grab enough food for the next few days and get back to Eleanor to ensure she hasn’t made a break for it. If I’ve learned anything, working alone means every victory and failure is yours to own, but it also means you don’t have anyone to bounce your ideas, plans, and thoughts off of. You can convince yourself a course of action is the best idea in the world, when it’s the worst fucking thing on the planet.
Mark raises his head as I let myself into the yard and smirks. “Hey, man.”
My happy-go-lucky best friend lives in the apartment below mine. He sometimes misjudges situations and needs a desperate upgrade into this century with his attitude, but he is a ride or die friend. If I told him to bring a shovel, he wouldn’t ask why, he would ask where.
“What’s up?” I ask. It’s not like him to sit on the step and soak up the sun. If he’s not passed out on his couch, he’s in the bar or riding his bike.
“Met your chicky.” I want to correct him on this antiquated term, but it feels like we’ve had that argument a thousand times.
I raise a brow. “You went to my apartment?” I can’t see Eleanor even answering the door. I have the only key, and it’s not like she’s looking for socialization.
“No, she was down here talking to Charlie.”
I snort. She enjoys speaking to him like he has a clue what she’s talking about. I knew she was going to like him. Charlie wins everyone over, no matter how reluctant they are. Mark scratches behind his ear. Oh, boy.
“What did you do?”
He leans back on his arms and stares at me. “What makes you think I did anything?”
“Because you’re hanging around waiting for me, meaning you potentially fucked up. I’ll ask again—what did you do?”
He presses his lips together as I wait him out, his eyes searching mine. Eventually, he sighs, resting his elbows on his knees. “I told her she isn’t your type.”
I transfer one of the bags to my other hand and rub my forehead. “Why, exactly, did you say that?”
“Because it’s true. The fact she’s even here is odd, so tell me what’s really going on.”
I don’t keep secrets, but this isn’t mine to tell, and if Eleanor finds out I spilled her life to someone she doesn’t trust, she’ll hang my balls like an ornament in that fancy-ass car of hers.
“I can’t.”
He rises to his feet and tilts his head. “Meaning there is something going on.”
I might not be willing to tell him, but I also won’t lie. I’ve already told enough by letting William believe she’s mine. I consider that manifesting though.
“Remember Honor?”
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. He met Honor in a bar when he decided her ass was too nice to pass up. She greeted him with a mean left hook before Fox carried her out over his shoulder. “Of course.”
“Eleanor is a friend of hers, and she’s in trouble. I am helping her as a favor.” Now that’s the real lie. I would help her regardless of our mutual connections. She has an intangible command over me, and I’m not going to ignore the universe when it gives me some very clear signs telling me that woman is meant to be mine. The term “soulmates” seems too hokey for my tastes, but the outcome is the same.
“What kind of trouble?”
“The worst.”
“What can I do?”
I don’t have to share the details for him to at least be aware of the danger stalking Eleanor. “William thinks we are dating.”
“Makes sense. It affords her the protection of the club.”
Mark might come across like a brainless idiot, but he’s one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever met. He acts this way so no one expects anything from him. “I trust you’ll keep that to yourself.”
He clasps my shoulder, his eyes conveying the seriousness of the moment. “Always, but a word of advice?”
“Okay...”
“Try not to see her as a way to make up for your past mistakes. That shit will get you killed, and if I think that’s even a possibility, I will always act in your interests, not hers.”
My heart twists. It’s nothing less than I expected, and I would say the exact same thing to him, but I still worry what that means for Eleanor. She’s too much of a flight risk.
“You asked what you can do.”
“Tell me.”
“Change the door code every morning and night and put it in the group chat. Check the cameras are working twice daily as well. Make sure C knows the town’s surveillance must be working and to report to me if there are any outages.”
Mark cracks his knuckles. “You’re expecting trouble?”
“I think it’s prudent to be cautious with the men on her tail.” I’m skirting the truth of the situation, but he needs to know the threat is real.
He smirks. “Let them come.”
I shake my head as he puts his code in and holds the door open for me. “Let’s hope they don’t. It’ll be a Fortune 500 bloodbath we don’t need. These aren’t nobodies who stick to the shadows. If you spill their blood, people will notice.”
He blinks. “Now I’m more curious. How bad can they be if they are silver-spooned assholes?”
“They are the worst of the worst. They believe themselves untouchable. Do not engage. I’m not expecting her to be traced here.” Given how adept she is at covering her tracks and the years she has spent hiding, I doubt this will break her streak. Eleanor doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes, and she isn’t cocky with her safety. She’s careful.
“Got it. Last question.”
I sigh. Mark likes to think of himself as the agony aunt of the MC, but he’s not. He’s just nosy. “Yeah?”
“You might be faking that shit with William, but answer me this—do you want it to be real?”
“Possibly.”
“You want my advice?”
“Not particularly.”
He ignores me, giving me a knowing look. “Treat her like you would a girlfriend, both in private and in public. Show her what it’s like to have your full attention. That’s enough to melt any woman.”
Then he jogs up the stairs as if he didn’t just outline the exact thing I have been doing anyway. Eleanor melting... Heat rolls down my spine at the memory of her body flushing from pleasure. I want to be the man to give her that. I want to be the guy who makes her lose control, to be the one smashing her walls and opening her eyes to the world she’s intent on ignoring.
I strategize as I walk up the stairs, jostling the keys, only to stride inside and find her… cleaning? Her hands are in the kitchen sink, overflowing with bubbles, while Charlie lies on the floor with his head on her feet like a weirdo. He eyeballs me, but doesn’t move, which is highly unusual. He must sense she needs him more right now.
Her hair is piled on the top of her head in a messy bun, and she moves her hips side to side to the beat of You Don’t Own Me blasting through the speakers.
I slide the bags onto the little bit of counter space left, realizing she’s emptied all the food cupboards and is scrubbing them clean.
She clearly hasn’t heard me come into the apartment, which surprises me given how jumpy she is. But then again, I’ve been accused of being unnaturally quiet.
“Hey,” I say to announce my presence.
She jumps and spins to face me. Charlie grumbles as she dislodges him and finally comes to greet me. I’m not a creep, but in her enthusiastic cleaning spree, she’s managed to get her t-shirt wet. And now I know why there are little bumps outlined against the thin cotton.
“You need to wear a bell. You are ridiculously quiet for a man of your stature.”
I force my gaze to her face, catching the heat and intrigue in her eyes at my stare. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning.”
“I see that. Why?”
I think back to her apartment, visualizing the clinical, clean, and organized lifeless space. I’m not a slob, but my home is lived in. Eleanor has plenty of personality, but it didn’t show in her home. I think her living environment is likely a result of her moving around to various places in the country as well as how focused she gets on her work. She needs warmth, life, security, and something other than her revenge scheme to concentrate on. My mind flicks to Mark’s advice. He isn’t exactly the poster child for relationships, but I think he might be on to something with Eleanor.
“Your cupboards were dirty, and now they aren’t.”
My cupboards weren’t dirty. I have Melissa come in and deep clean once a month, and they were done this week.
“Okay. Thank you.”
She blinks. “You’re welcome?” She phrases it like a question, confused why I would thank her for anything.
“Let’s get everything put away, and I can make us some lunch.”
She nods as she starts unpacking the groceries, organizing them into matching piles on the counter. I move the pack of rice next to the tins where I always keep it. She slaps my hand away and moves the rice next to the pasta. “Carbs go here. Those tins are veggies.”
Okay—we’re organizing my cupboards according to food groups. I can cope with that. I place the two packs of pasta next to the rice and raise an eyebrow. She nods, but when I try putting the coconut milk with the other tins, she sighs. “Not a veggie,” she mutters as she moves it to the pile with soy sauce and oyster sauce. Right.
“You clearly have a system. I’ll start lunch.”
She huffs as she moves a couple of the items into their predetermined pile. What has triggered this? What did I miss?
I steal away the few items I need for lunch. She opens the cutlery drawer with a grumble and lines up the spoons so they sit inside each other rather than haphazardly chucking them in. I move behind her, and her breath catches, her body stiffening as I graze her hip, snaking in front of her to get a knife.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, goosebumps erupting down her arm as I let my breath wash against the side of her neck. Eleanor Austin is a powder keg waiting for me to ignite her fuse. Robotic, my ass. Her blood burns, and I can’t wait to see her lose control under my hands. My tongue. On my cock.
“Making lunch,” I answer.
“Does that involve you accosting me in your kitchen?”
I chuckle. “It certainly makes cooking more fun. But if I was accosting you, you would know it.” I lower my head so my lips whisper over her ear. “Would you like me to accost you?”
“I want to finish my job.”
“Tell me why you felt the need to clean my already spotless kitchen.”
“It was disorganized.”
“Do you make a habit of reorganizing your host’s cupboards?”
“I don’t make it a habit to be a guest at all.”
“Let me give you some ground rules, trouble.”
Her hands grip the counter as she releases a slow breath. “Trouble?”
She’s avoiding the question, but I’m done letting her wiggle away. “Your new name.”
“I’m hardly trouble.”
“You are the embodiment of trouble.”
She sighs. “Ground rules?”
Of course she is more interested in the rules. “First rule: if you are walking around the apartment with your clothes on, they should be dry.”
She looks down and utters a curse. I grin against her skin. “I didn’t realize, but I don’t have any other clothes until tomorrow.”
“There are plenty of shirts in the closet. Help yourself.”
“Anything else?”
“How often do you get yourself off?”
“Excuse me?”
“How often do you bring yourself pleasure, Eleanor?”
“Most nights.”
Fuck.
“Sometimes more,” she adds, her voice gravelly.
“In the interest of being kind to your gracious host, would you consider letting me watch?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I need to finish putting the food away.”
Nice change of topic. “Then finish.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. That’s right, Eleanor, you’ll have to turn to face me. I’m not touching her. She’s not trapped. I wouldn’t do that unless it’s something she’s into, but I would give her a safe word to use to gain her freedom.
Surprising the hell out of me, she arches her back and pushes her ass against me. Fuck. I don’t step back. She’s teasing me, and while I might be walking around with blue balls until I can grab a shower, I don’t shy away from it. I can’t. Showing weakness at this stage wouldn’t help me get real with her.
“Anyone ever told you that you have a perfect ass?”
“No.”
“I’m imagining my hands gripping it as you ride my face. Head thrown back in ecstasy as you use my tongue to get yourself off.” Silence stretches like an elastic band around us, and the longer she leaves it, the harder the snap is going to be. “Would you enjoy that, Eleanor?”
“No.”
“Have you tried it?”
There’s a beat where she debates lying to me. “No.”
Good girl. “Let me know if you want that to change. No strings.” That’s a lie. “I’m down the hall.”
She drags her bottom lip between her teeth. Yes, my little hacker, it will be as good as you are imagining. Better, even. I’m not gloating for no reason. Making sure she enjoys it as much as I do is common fucking sense.
“Good to know,” she responds. “Now for my ground rules.” She spins and her nipples graze my chest. I close my eyes and lick my lips. Fucking tease. “If my bedroom door is closed, it means you should knock before entering.”
“In all fairness, I did knock.” My body sways toward hers, neither of us backing down from this game of chicken we started. “I didn’t know you had headphones in.”
“Inside this apartment, I am Eleanor; the cold bitch hacker you are sheltering because you owe a mutual friend a favor. I get the town needs to see us as a couple, but they aren’t here.”
My eyes widen as I plot a hundred ways I can push her to be outside with me. “There’s a slight problem with that.”
“Which is?”
“We should practice.”
Her head cants to the side. “Practice what?”
“Being a couple so you don’t flinch in public when I touch you.”
Her mouth pops open before closing it. She frowns like she’s sorted through some kind of complex equation and doesn’t like the answer. “Okay.” I feel like I’ve won a battle. “What are you suggesting?”
To make good on the promise to have you coming on my tongue. Fear and desire battle in her eyes. Too much. “Let’s start with a little light touching. Something appropriate for being in public, of course.”
“What’s appropriate?”
Doesn’t she know? Wait. “Have you never been in a relationship?”
“Once.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
Hardly long enough for her to get a realistic feel for what being in a relationship is like. “What happened?”
“He saw the real me and decided we weren’t a match.”
Fucking idiot. “We’ll take it slow. But for now, let’s start with rule one. You’re wet, trouble. Go change.”
I force myself to move back to let her escape. After she scampers away, I spin toward the refrigerator and freeze. The pair of panties Charlie stole are pinned to the door with magnets, along with a message.
Consolation prize.
I snatch the underwear off the door with a smirk while Charlie grins at me from the floor. “Mine,” I tell him, and I don’t just mean the panties.