Chapter 33

33

Hunter

One look at the furrow between her eyebrows, at the downward tilt of her lips, at those eyelids still weighed down by the weight of the pleasure I wrought from her body, even as those golden eyes flicker with awareness of what passed between us the last two nights—and I know she’s come to a decision about us.

"Don’t do this." I stalk over to her.

She begins to swing her legs over, but I push her back into the bed and cover her body with mine.

"Hunter," she half-laughs, half-tries to push me off of her. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I’m doing?"

"Do you always have to answer every question with a question?’

"Do you?" I lean enough of my weight into her, and she stops struggling.

She glances between my eyes, then tips up her chin. "It’s over."

"It’s not over until we say it is." I growl.

"It was a one night stand that stretched to two," she murmurs. "And now the sun has come out."

As if to mark her words, a ray of sunlight beams through the window and across our faces. It picks out the flickers of silver in the depths of her eyes. The ones that captivated me from the moment I first spotted them. The ones that tell me her emotions are nowhere as settled as she’d like me to believe.

I cup her cheek, and she blinks. "Hunter, please."

"You know I’m not going to be able to let you go." I hold her gaze.

She looks away then back at me. "That was the deal. We had this time together, and now it’s time to leave."

"Not before you promise it’s not over between us."

"I can’t." She swallows. "We can’t be seen together. It will only get people talking."

"So let them."

"We’ve been over this. I can’t afford to be linked with you."

"Why not?"

"You know why." She firms her lips.

"I’m not sure why."

"You’re the Prime Ministerial candidate?—"

"And you’d be the woman I’m seeing."

"There, that’s what I mean. You’ll be the leader, the man in charge, the one in power and?—"

"You’d be my equal. In public, I may be the future Prime Minister. In private, I’d be the man who makes you orgasm so hard you can’t have a coherent thought for days."

She laughs, and her features light up. She looks so goddamn beautiful, I lean in and press my mouth to hers. She parts her lips, and I deepen the kiss. By the time I raise my head, we’re both breathing hard. I press the tent between my legs into her. "See what you do to me, Fire? How do you expect me to not pursue you after this?"

"Because your career is important to you?—"

"Not more than the woman I want by my side."

"What?" Her gaze widens. "What did you say?" There’s a thread of panic in her voice. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that. Why is it that when I’m with her all my careful planning goes to pieces?

"You heard me. I want you to be with me on the campaign trail."

"No. That’s not going to happen. I can’t allow anything to tie the two of us together. I won’t allow my personal life to become the fodder of gossip blogs and political commentators."

"Why not? What are you so scared of? Why do you always want to stay behind the scenes, Zara? Why is it you never want to face the issue that’s standing right in front of you? What are you hiding?"

She pales, then shoves at me again. "Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Hunter." Her voice is so cold, it stabs through my heart like a bloody knife. I’m going to lose her. I’m going to lose her. That’s when the phone in my back pocket vibrates. Fuck, I shouldn’t have switched it on earlier, but I thought I could get through some of my work while she was still sleeping. I hoped to buy myself a little time before the inevitable demands of the campaign pulled me away. The very fact that I didn’t switch on my phone for the last forty-eight hours, no doubt, sent the rest of my team into a panic. No matter that it was Christmas and the day after, which is also a public holiday in this country. There’s no time off when you’re running to be Prime Minister. Something I knew and pushed aside because I wanted to spend time with her.

"You need to answer that," she points out.

"I don’t need to do anything I don’t want to."

The doorbell rings, I swear aloud. She tilts her head. No way, am I going to move. If I do, I’ll lose her. And if I don’t? She’ll hate me anyway, for keeping her here against her will.

My phone vibrates, and the doorbell rings again. The sound of someone pounding on the door reaches us. My phone pings with an incoming message.

"I think that must be your security team?"

"Fuck that," I growl.

"I think we’ve done enough of that, don’t you think?"

"When it comes to you, it’s never enough."

She draws in a sharp breath. Her pupils dilate. I lower my head and my phone vibrates again and doesn’t stop. At the same time, the doorbell rings, a series of long bursts of noise that tear through the liminal space we created.

"This isn’t over yet, Zara." I press a hard kiss to her mouth, then roll off her and off the bed.

She begins to rise, and I stab a finger in her direction. "Make sure you’re dressed properly before you come out there."

Turning, I stride out.

"I strongly advise that you not attempt to lose us again, sir. We are only doing our jobs in trying to protect you, and if you leave without telling us, and then disengage the tracking device on your phone, you put yourself at risk and—" Ralph, the head of my security team breaks off halfway through his tirade as Zara sweeps into the living room where I’ve been talking with them for the past forty-five minutes.

I told her to get dressed properly, and I have no doubt she hated the fact I ordered her to do so. It wouldn’t have hurt to tack on a please at the end of my statement, but had I done so? Of course, not. I was pissed with myself that I hadn’t found a way to get her to agree to see me again. At least, when I had her under me, I used my cock to seduce her into submitting to me, but with the length of the room between us, all I can do is watch as she looks away from me.

"Zara Chopra," she says, and holds out her hand as she approaches us.

"Ralph Sanders, Mr. Whittington’s Head of Security." Ralph reaches to shake her hand, and I stiffen.

Before I can stop myself, I step in between them, forcing him to retreat. I cut off his view of Zara and glare at him. "Shouldn’t you be out doing a search of the perimeter?"

"Already done," Ralph replies.

Behind me, Zara tries to peer around my back, but I shift my position.

"And checking my car to make sure it’s safe to drive back," I snap.

Ralph’s eyebrows draw down. "My men are on it."

"Ms. Chopra’s car..."

"Is parked in the front garage." She shoves at my arm, but I don’t move.

“You’re parked in the front garage, huh?”

“So?” She frowns.

“I’m parked in the one at the back.”

“Your point being?”

“Weston told me, specifically, to use the garage at the back,” I murmur.

“Huh.” She purses her lips. “Amelie texted me to say that I should use the garage at the front.”

“Jesus.” I roll my shoulders, “You don’t think?—”

The creases in her forehead clear. “I do think.”

Our gazes meet, hold.

“I can’t believe they did this,” she says finally.

“I guess I owe Weston one.” I allow my lips to curve.

Ralph clears his throat.

I stiffen, then turn my gaze on him. "Once you’re done checking our cars, could you wait outside?”

"Of course, sir; ma’am." He walks out the front door, and Zara punches my arm.

"The hell is wrong with you?"

"What are you talking about?" I strive for what I hope is an innocent tone.

She stomps around to stand toe-to-toe with me. "You were acting like a Neanderthal. You planted your ugly arse?—"

"Didn’t hear you calling it that when you had your fingers squeezing down on that part of my body last night," I murmur.

"—in between us. You forced that man back. You didn’t let him see my face while I spoke to him."

"Trust me, if I could control myself around you, I would, but apparently, I’m not ready to allow the outside world to look at you."

"Deal with it." She throws up her hands. "Have you heard yourself? You sound deranged. Like an over-the-top, overprotective, dominant, possessive, wankhead."

"All true, except that last descriptor. Not sure I agree with that."

"This is no laughing matter, Hunter."

"Do you see me laughing?"

She glowers at me. "You’re smirking; that’s close enough."

"Fine, I accept maybe my behavior was a little extreme." I raise a shoulder.

"A little extreme?" She snaps her shoulders back. "And you told him we were having a discussion. A discussion!"

"Isn’t that what we’re having now?" I incline my head.

"This is not a discussion. This is our?—"

"First argument as a couple?’

"We’re not a couple."

"Strange, that’s not what it seemed like to me last night."

"One night—okay, two nights of sex, no matter how mind-blowing, how out of this world, orgasmic, how?—"

"So, you admit it was mind-blowing and out of this world?" I ask.

"Of course, it was, you numbskull. And you don’t need me to confirm that to you, and oh, you keep interrupting me." She tucks her elbows into her sides. "Hunter, what are we doing?"

"We" —I place my hands on her shoulders— "are going to leave here, have breakfast somewhere nice, and then drive back to London."