Chapter 8
Hunter
I carry Tink— Jesus, I really need to ask her real name . But is there any point? Will we see each other again? For the first time in a long time, I think I want to. Our past experiences shape us and when it comes to relationships; one in particular has had me running from commitment. But I was not expecting someone like Tink. Not only is she beautiful, but when we were talking in the club, I saw that she was clever. So clever, I could talk to her for hours. The way she spoke so animatedly about her career and what she wanted to achieve was eye opening. And her body? She may be short, but she has curves that most women would kill for. I can tell she has worked hard for her body by the definition in her muscles. That’s something I can appreciate, as I love spending time in the gym. Maybe we could go together? Stop it, you've known the woman for a night, you don’t even know her real name and here you are starting to plan a life with her.
Get a grip .
As she sighs in my arms, seemingly so content and sated. My chest constricts, and I feel like I don’t want to let her go.
Turning on the shower and stepping under the spray of hot water, I still can’t bring myself to put her down. The impulse to hold her close is too much. Instead, I shift her so her legs wrap around my waist, and sit us down on the built in bench. I slowly run my palms down her back with our foreheads touching, while I try and get my head around what the hell is happening.
That was incredible.
I’ve been with my fair share of women, something I lapped up in my early twenties, but now I miss the chase. They always know who I am and really, they aren’t there because they like me; they want my money or status. I know that makes me sound pretentious, but it's true. It just seems like every woman I come across only sees my position on Forbes’ richest under thirty list and not me as a person. I can’t build a healthy relationship on that. I’ve only ever been with one woman who could have been my forever, and that ended badly. I’ve always wanted the relationship my parents have. The love they have for each other is beautiful, but also nauseating as their son.
These days, I don’t get involved. I have one night stands or I go to a prestigious sex club in New York, knowing my identity will be safe. But holding this woman in my arms has me thinking, maybe I could have what my parents have.
She wanted to pay for her drinks. That has never happened to me. Women just expect me to pay. And the best part is that she had no clue who I was. If she did, she was a fucking good actress.
But how would we make this work? Would she really be happy with someone who’s traveling constantly between London and New York? Distance can make or break a relationship.
“Hey.” Her soft voice comes over the noise of the spray. Concern is written all over her beautiful face as she cups my cheek. “Where did you go?”
I give her a half smile. “Nowhere, just tired, I guess. Someone must’ve worn me out.” I graze my nose over her jaw. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up, dirty girl.”
I lower her to the ground as I stand. She rests her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, and I fully appreciate how small she is, sending a wave of possessiveness over me.
Guiding her under the spray, she tips her head back, the column of her neck exposed, inviting me. I place a kiss there, then run my nose up her throat. She smiles up at me when I pull away.
Squeezing the shampoo into my hand, I turn her so her back is to me and massage it into her scalp. When I’m done, she washes the shampoo out and I drag the conditioner through the strands.
“Have you done this before?” she says dreamily. Even though I can’t see her face, I can tell her eyes are closed.
“Surprisingly, no. I don’t leave the women I’ve been with high and dry, but I’ve never washed my girl’s hair before.”
My girl .
Shit, that sounds good.
“Well, you have the magic touch. It feels so good.” She rinses her hair then leans her back into my front, the look on her face is pure content. My heart blooms because I put that look there.
“Does that ever go down?” She giggles as my now hard cock presses into her back.
“Apparently, not around you,” I mumble, kissing her pulse point, but not making a move to do anything other than just hold her.
“Has anyone ever taken the time to look after you?”
“No, I’ve never had anyone look after me, not like this. I’m independent. Always have been. I think it scares most men.”
“Well, you deserve to be treated like a queen. The queen is always the boss, she protects the king. She’s the strongest piece on the board and can do anything. Once she’s out of play, it doesn’t take long for the game to crumble. You must always take care of your queen.” The words tumble out of my mouth. I mean every single one of them. This woman could be my queen if I allow myself to open my heart up again.
“Come on, it’s time I took you to bed.” Reaching out, I help her up, turning the shower off. Grabbing a towel for both of us, I dry every part of her and she does the same, a satisfied smile on both our faces. Picking her up again, her legs instinctively wrap around my waist, and I carry her back to bed. Her blonde hair fans out around her on my charcoal bedding. When I gently place her down, her eyes close in exhaustion. Getting in on the other side, I pull her towards me, feeling complete.
“Good night, my handsome Gladiator.”
“Good night, my beautiful Tinkerbell.” I’ll tell her everything in the morning about who I am, and how much I don’t want her to go. I fall asleep with the biggest smile on my face. I think I’ve finally found my partner, my equal, my queen. And that’s more than enough of a reason to smile.