Yeah, the hunter has become the prey.
I’m at his mercy as he shoves me down on the bed. His naked body blankets mine. The two of us soaked from the pool but neither of us caring. I know I’m being stupid and reckless. The head of his dick kisses my pussy lips.
“Condom,” I blurt out.
Holy drops his head to mine, his heavy beer scented breaths whisking over my face. “Yeah. I’ll get on that. Don’t go anywhere.” Pressing a quick kiss to my forehead he rolls off the bed and stumbles going to his feet.
He kissed my forehead. He’s got a bit of sweet beneath the rough exterior.
I watch impatient while he digs around in his pockets, throwing his cigarettes and lighter. Confusion crosses his hard features.
He blinks then moves to scrub a palm over his face but misses. “The fuck was in that beer,” he slurs his words while butting a palm to his temple.
“What?” I play dumb as guilt eats away at me. Oh no. What if I put too much in the beer? What if I kill him? Then his biker buddies will all be after me. Crystal usually handles the drugging part.
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
“Did you drug me?” His accusation comes out in a feral growl.
“No.” I shake my head. “Just come back to bed.” I lick my lips. “Forget the condom. I’ll blow you.” Jesus. I’ll blow him? I’ve really lost what little sense I had.
“Fucking hell. Never thought I’d see the day you’d lower yourself to this,” he mutters.
My pulse races. What’s he talking about? I swallow. “What?” The threat of tears burns in the back of my eyelids.
His step falters as he stalks toward me. “Hazel,” my name leaves his lips in a strained whisper. Holy drops to the bed face down landing next to me.
“What the fuck?” I mutter to myself. How does he know my name?
I jump out the bed and go to his wallet. The moment I open it a paper falls out. I pick it up and unfold the worn photo. A photo of me.
I stare in horror at the scars on his back. Pink and white grooves that stain his tan skin with evidence of what should be impossible.
Fingers trembling, erratic breathing, tears clouding my vision I reach out and touch him. Terrified and excited. But mostly I’m angry.
My Benicio. My Beni. It can’t be. Anxiety grips me and the desire to faint overcomes me.
I run my fingers over his scars remembering him earning each and every one.
“Beni.” A fat tear rolls down my cheek and plops against his lifeless body. Every single lashing, he took for me.
How’s he here? Why is he here and why didn’t he tell me who he was?
I roll him over on the mattress and relax at the rise and fall of his chest. He’s breathing. I press my lips to his. “You found me.” I stroke his cheeks and stare at the man he’s become. Hard. Tattooed. Ruggedly handsome. I’d hoped he had found a good life but figured he might be dead.
He swore he’d come for me.
He never did.
How long has he known where I was?
I pound a fist against his chest. “Wake up damn you.” I have so many questions, but my first instinct is to run. It’s what I do when life gets complicated.
“Please, wake up?” I sniffle.
The motel room door flies open.
“Girl, we gotta go. Bruno is blowing up my phone. I gotta get home. Did you get any money? His friend had a little but not as much as I was hoping.”