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His Hellcat(8)

By:Rory Reynolds

Without realizing it we’ve started a game of keep away and now I’m leaned over backwards against the counter with Hutch’s big strong body pressed deliciously against mine. During all this, his rough paw of a hand has enclosed my wrist in his grasp keeping me from pulling my arm away. His other arm is wrapped around my waist holding me close. There is no way that I’m going to win this, I know it, but I’m not giving up either. My day has been shit and for the first time since I walked in that bedroom and had my entire world tilt off its axis, I’m feeling carefree; joyful even.

If I’m being completely honest with myself, this is the best I’ve felt in years. Things with Shane started off so good. He was attentive and sweet, he made me feel beautiful and liked that I was sassy. We dated casually for several months. We had so much fun together and the sex was better than I’d ever had. It wasn’t an instant love, but it grew and when he asked me to move in once my lease was up, it just seemed like the natural progression for our relationship. And things were really, really good for a while.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment things changed. It was like I just woke up one day and the spark wasn’t there anymore. Everything I did, I asked myself if Shane would approve. Would he like this dress? Is my lipstick too red? Not red enough?

You’d be amazed at how many shades of red lipstick there are. When the brand I’d been using forever discontinued Red Velvet, it took me thirty tubes of lipstick and a few thousand tears before I found one that Shane approved of.

I don’t even like lipstick. I’ve always been a Chapstick kind of girl. That’s how far down the rabbit hole I fell.

Everything I did, every word out of my mouth, every stitch of clothing I wore, even my friends, were all picked with one thing in mind—pleasing Shane. I became some kind of Stepford wife and I hate myself for it. I guess I should be thankful to Margo, she gave me the bitch slap I needed to wake the fuck up and get the hell out. Her betrayal stings, but now that the shock of seeing them together like that is fading, I’m not really surprised.

And how sad is that?

Strong fingers flex around my wrist and hard plains of muscles graze my nipples, bringing me back to the here and now as Hutch makes another try for the rag. The playfulness of the moment is refreshing, but it’s the flair of sexual excitement that keeps me fighting a losing battle. At this point, I’d do just about anything to keep our bodies glued together.

Rising up to my tiptoes I do my best to stretch my arm with the rag as far away from Hutch’s long reach as I can. The attempt is laughable considering the extreme height disadvantage I have, not to mention the fact that I am considered plump while he is the epitome of athletic sex god.

His big, hard body pressed against my soft curves causes my brain to short circuit and I’m about three seconds from ripping this robe off, climbing up his body, and humping his face. Before my over-emotional, under-sexed, hormone-fueled body can do something rash— like fuck my twin’s best friend after knowing him for all of an hour—I decide it’s time to play dirty.

I bite him.


“Ow, what the fuck!” He roars as he jumps away from me rubbing his hand over his chest where I bit him. “Your brother was right. You are an evil little thing.”

I can’t hide my satisfied smile as I turn to the sink and start washing the dishes. “You could always dry.”

He grunts some kind of acceptance and rummages around for a towel. We make quick work of the dishes each of us lost to our own thoughts. I would like to admit that I’m thinking about my next steps, figuring out what my plan is going to be when I return home. At least my job isn’t a concern. Being the boss is nice like that. Plus, once I have access to the internet and a computer, I can work anywhere. But instead of any of that, I’m thinking about the hot piece of man meat beside me and why I’m taking every single opportunity to brush against him.

I’m horrible, I know. I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help myself. He is everything my body craves regardless of how wrong it is. It’s like one touch and my body has come alive again. I’ve been numb for so long, I forgot what it’s like to really feel and right or wrong, I know Hutch is capable of making me feel. I came here to escape—to regroup and heal—maybe fate brought us both here for the same purpose. Maybe we can help each other heal or maybe I’m delusional because there is no way this man would want a hot mess like me.

Hell, I wouldn’t want a hot mess like me and I really don’t know what brought Hutch all the way out here. No matter what scars he carried here to recover from, he's still every bit sexy Adonis and I'm every bit the girl who had her fiancé cheat on her with her super model pretty best friend. I need to get my stupid hormones in check and maybe worry about being alone in this remote place with a man I just met. I can't find even an ounce of worry or fear. In fact, I feel safe—protected.