Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
H unt woke, his arm throbbing.
Wincing, he sat up, and checked his bandaged wound. He’d need some more pills soon to combat the ache.
The bed was wrecked. He’d barely paid any attention to the luxurious room done in soothing, pale grays and blues. The sheet was covering half of one of his legs. There was no sign of Savannah.
He grabbed his phone, feeling a flicker of panic in his gut. He checked the security system. Nothing had been triggered, no doors opened, since Cam had stopped by the night before and dropped off their bags.
Hunt pulled on his shorts and stopped for a second. He’d gorged himself on Savannah last night. He’d barely let her sleep. After their first frenzied fuck on the dining table, he’d had her over and over.
Damn, the sounds she made, the look she got when he was moving inside her…
Even at the memories, his cock lengthened.
He wanted her again. She was a damn addiction; one he was happy to keep indulging. He grabbed a condom packet off the bedside table and slipped it into his pocket.
He strode out of the bedroom and descended the stairs to the living room. He saw her sketchbook and pencils on the coffee table. Bright, morning light streamed in the tall windows. Hunt took a second to admire the view of his city and the water.
He rarely took the time to enjoy San Francisco’s offerings. Work kept him too busy.
And Savannah was right, it was easier to run from the guilt and keep too busy, than to face it. Maybe a part of him did bury himself in work as a way to make it up to his lost brothers in arms.
Maybe it was time to find some balance in his life?
He reached the bottom of the stairs. The doors to the main terrace were open, and he wandered out. Perfectly pruned trees in large pots lined the terrace, but his gaze went straight to the infinity pool… And the woman in it.
She rose up, her back to him, pushing her wet hair back from her face. The tiny strings at the back, between her shoulder blades, made him wonder what her bikini looked like.
Gut tight, he strode toward the pool.
Savannah turned and spied him. He loved the look on her face: a faint flush, a little shy, eyes filled with desire.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.” She moved to the edge of the pool. “You were sleeping soundly, and I felt the urge to sketch.”
“I would have liked to have woken up with you, but this is nice, too.” He strode to the steps of the pool and walked straight in.
She laughed. “Your shorts—”
“Will dry off. What color is that bikini, Ms. Cole?”
She watched him come toward her. “Does it matter?”
“It won’t when it’s in a wet pile beside the pool.”
She licked her lips. “Do you have plans, Detective?”
“I do. Get my cock inside you.”
She sucked in a breath.
“That okay with you?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her voice was breathy.
He wrapped an arm around her and nipped her shoulder.
She slid her hand down his arm, her fingers tracing his ink. He’d noticed her checking it out before.
“I got it when I got accepted into Delta.”
“It’s a stunning bit of art.” She cocked her head, reading the text. “Here be monsters.”
“Old map makers used to write similar words on unknown portions of maps.” He shrugged.
“I knew I’d be headed into some unknown territory with my team.
Plus, I loved reading John Steinbeck growing up.
There was a quote from one of his books that stuck with me.
‘Men really need sea-monsters in their personal oceans. An ocean without its unnamed monsters would be like a completely dreamless sleep.’”
“You were going to face the monsters,” she murmured.
“Yes.” He nipped her lips. “We all face our demons.” He trailed his lips down her neck. “Now, enough talking, more pleasure.”
“Can people see us?” she murmured.
Hunt swam them to the end of the pool, which was more private, and protected by a wall. He untied the strings on her small, red bikini top and freed her breasts. He made a hungry sound and pressed his mouth to one nipple.
She moaned and arched. He lavished her perfect breast with attention before moving on to the other one. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding against his erection.
Then he slid a hand down her belly, and into her tiny bikini bottoms. He stroked her.
“God, how can I want you this much?” she panted.
He kissed along her neck, while he worked the swollen folds between her legs. Her hips moved, the water splashing.
He spun her and pushed her forward until her upper body was flush against the paving around the pool. Her delectable ass was out of the water. Her breathing was fast.
He stroked his hands down her naked back. All that smooth skin. He kissed her between her shoulder blades. So beautiful.
He felt his calluses catch on her skin, but she was squirming, leaving no doubt how much she liked his touch. He moved lower, and untied the bikini bottoms, then stroked the globes of her ass, massaging them between his palms.
“Hunt—” She pushed back against his hands.
He leaned over her, rubbing his cock against her as he nipped her earlobe. “That’s not what you call me.”
“Hunter, stop teasing me.”
He shoved his shorts off and dealt with the condom. Then he stroked her bottom again, before sliding two fingers into her slippery pussy. She let out a wordless cry.
He pulled his fingers free, desire a hard drumbeat in his head. Then he gripped her and pulled her back into the pool and onto his cock.
He plunged deep, filling her completely.
“Oh, oh… Hunter .”
He wrapped an arm around her middle, using the water to help him move her. He stroked in and out, hot sensation pouring through him.
“God, you fill me up,” she breathed.
Soon, Hunt couldn’t think. He thrust wildly, moving his hand down to find her clit.
Savannah climaxed hard. She screamed, her body clamping down brutally on his cock.
He was thrusting with no finesse, his control gone. He plunged harder, faster, and his orgasm hit like an explosion.
“Fuck, Savannah.” His body jerked as he poured himself inside her.
They stayed there in the water for a moment. She was boneless in his arms. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, then spun her. She clung to him.
“It’s a lovely morning,” she mumbled.
Hunt laughed and carried her out of the pool. “It’ll be even better after a shower and the breakfast I plan to make you.”
“Pancakes?” she asked hopefully.
“That could be arranged.” Shit, he realized that he’d make pancakes, eggs, bacon, whatever she wanted, for this woman, every day for the rest of his life.
He sucked in a breath.
Getting ahead of yourself, Morgan. He had a stalker to deal with, first.
Then, an uncomfortable feeling filled his gut. After they dealt with Walkson, Savannah would get her life back. She’d be free, and could do anything she wanted, including go back to New York.
His gut locked.
For now, he’d keep her safe. Later, he’d convince her to stay.
They showered together and dressed. She sat on the kitchen counter, sketching, while he made pancakes.
Then she showed her great appreciation for his cooking, eating with gusto. Her smile made him feel like he’d won a million bucks.
“How’s your arm?” she asked. “You shouldn’t have gotten it wet in the pool.”
“I didn’t put it under the water. How’s your neck?” The sight of those dark bruises made his gut churn.
“They’re feeling a bit better, actually.”
As he was cleaning up, his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the message.
“Hunter?” There was worry in her voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Vander and Ace are on the way up. They have something.”
She pressed a fist to the base of her throat, worry and tension leaking back in.
He slipped the phone in his pocket and pulled her to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s going to be fine. You’re terrible at this ‘trusting other people’ thing.”
She hugged him back. “I’m out of practice.”
They waited in the living room, Savannah pacing. The elevator chimed and her head jerked up.
Vander exited first, followed by Ace, then another man.
Hunt frowned. The guy was wearing an expensive, tailored, black suit. He had a sharp, handsome face, with ink-black hair, and black eyes. Those eyes were filled with piercing intelligence.
Suddenly, Savannah stiffened. Then she ran across the room. “Killian!”
She threw herself into the man’s arms. The guy held her tight, his eyes closing for a second.
Hunt crossed his arms over his chest, battling a bunch of emotions that erupted all at once, and resisting the urge to yank her away from the man.
* * *
Savannah hugged her best friend Saskia’s brother.
She hadn’t seen Killian since she’d left New York, but they’d emailed occasionally. It’d been Killian who had—against his own wishes—helped her run. He and his security company had helped put together her new identity.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, Susannah,” Killian said.
Killian Hawke looked like a sharp, lethal businessman, but he had a voice that made a woman blink. It always made her think of hot nights and melted chocolate.
“It’s Savannah now, remember?” She wasn’t sure she could be Susannah Hart again, even if Walkson was gone.
Killian touched her cheek. The man really was gorgeous, with his sharply defined features and piercing stare.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said.
Suddenly, a hand gripped her hip and pulled her away from Killian. She bumped against Hunt’s big body and he curled an arm around her chest.
She watched Vander’s lips twitch, and Ace grin.
“We haven’t met,” Hunt said, tone clipped.
She looked up and saw his jaw was set in hard lines.
“Hunt, this is Killian Hawke. A friend from New York.”
Killian and Hunt locked gazes, until Savannah frowned.
“Hey.” She elbowed Hunt. “Do not go all caveman on me, Hunter Morgan.”
His arm tightened.
Shaking her head, she went up on her toes and nipped the underside of his jaw. “Killian is my best friend Saskia’s brother. He helped me escape. He put my Savannah Cole identity together.”
Hunt’s arm loosened a fraction.