His Regret by Bella J.

Chapter Seventeen

Hunter parkedthe Bugatti in front of a house that looked like someone had magically pulled it from a catalogue and plopped it down in the most perfect location ever. Now Scarlet knew exactly what Hunter meant by saying the car they took would totally blend in where they were going.

The double-story beach house was an oceanfront property with windows all around the first floor, giving it a panoramic view of the water. Two huge white pillars stood vast in front of the house, above it a huge balcony with a walkway right around the top floor. It was ultra-modern, and even sexy in a weird, architectural way.

“Wow.” Scarlet stared open mouthed at the house when she closed the car door.

“Yeah. The underwear model just happens to be an architect as well.” Hunter walked around and stood next to her. “Hence the huge-ass, flashy beach house.”

She glanced at him. “So the underwear model isn’t just a pretty face?”

He narrowed his eyes, and she smirked. Even though he tried to play their little kissing fest in the elevator off as a method to help her get a grip, the little action that took place against his apartment window sure as hell wasn’t. The way he touched her, the way his voice dropped when he spoke all those dirty words was proof enough that he really wanted to fuck her right there and then. Of course, there was the very impressive wood he was sporting and the way he reacted when she pushed her hand down his pants. There was no way he could have downplayed that as anything other than him really wanting her—well, her body at least.

Hunter walked up the steps and turned to face her. “You coming? Or are you going to stand there the whole day drooling over a piece of architecture?”

“A piece of architecture?” Scarlet started up the stairs. “This is a masterpiece of architecture if you ask me.”

“Luckily, I’m not asking you.”

Hunter entered the passcode and they heard the click of the door unlocking. The lights in the foyer automatically switched on, and when Scarlet walked into the house, her jaw dropped.

The first thing she noticed was the huge metal spiral chandelier with soft lights hanging from the double ceiling. A spiral staircase to the right led up to the second floor, with silver diagonal wires running down from the ceiling connecting to the steps. Everything was metal, silver, granite, and shaped concrete. Square shapes and lines seemed to be the theme, exactly the way Scarlet imagined an architect’s house to look like.

As she made her way to the living area on the left, she took in every highly contemporary inch of the house. White couches stood in the living room with a huge flat screen television set against the wall. The gray granite top dining room table with ten matching gray chairs stood to the right. The entire living area was open plan, feeling airy and light. And even though the furniture seemed nothing less than fucking expensive, everything about the house seemed like a minimalist design. Ultra-modern simplicity. In other words, fucking awesome.

“Look at this view.” Scarlet rushed to the windows, looking out over the ocean and wooden deck with pool to boot. The sun was high in the sky, rays of sunshine beaming over the crystal clear water. For a few moments she basked in the beauty and serenity of it all. It had been so long since Scarlet had experienced something this amazing, this beautiful. Every apartment or room she had lived in the last few years was cramped, old, and depressing.

Hunter stepped up next to her. “Adam might be an arrogant SOB, but he sure has taste.”

“I want a tour.” She turned to face him. “I want to see every inch of this damn house.”

And then something really fucking weird happened—Hunter smiled. It wasn’t an arrogant smirk, or one of his cocky grins she had gotten used to. It was an actual smile. A warm, sincere, from the heart kind of smile, and it made her aware just how damn attractive he really was.

He nodded. “Sure. Come on.”

“Yay.” She rushed off in the other direction, eager to see the rest of house. Hunter followed, and she heard him snicker behind her. Not such a hard ass after all.

It took them more than an hour to take a tour through the entire house. That was if you didn’t count the time Scarlet took listing at least ten very good reasons why she should have the main bedroom with sliding doors that stepped out to yet another beautiful deck with a massive Jacuzzi. After about twenty minutes of incessant whining, Hunter eventually agreed, but with one condition. He would sleep in the same room since the house was just too goddamn big and he wanted her close at all times—just in case.

Scarlet agreed, but the long gray couch that was bigger than her damn apartment would be his bed. No way would she be sharing the king-size bed covered in black silk sheets with anyone.

“Okay.” Scarlet clapped her hands together when they walked into the living area again. “Now that the grand tour is out of the way, let’s check out the mini bar.” She glanced around the living room. “Which would be where exactly?”

Hunter stepped into the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room by a twelve-foot marble counter top with three round metal lamps hanging over it.

“This would be the mini bar.” He opened a double door cabinet, and Scarlet found herself gawking at one big fridge with clear doors, displaying every alcoholic beverage you could come up with in a ninety-second time limit. From beer to wine to ciders to tequila. Everything Scarlet could think of was there. Except for the most important one.

“Where’s the Jack Daniels?”

Hunter searched the fridge. “Well, it seems like that’s the only damn thing the underwear model didn’t stock up on.”

Damn.“I knew there was something about him I didn’t like. Fine. I’ll go with tequila, then.”

“Yeah, good choice.” Hunter opened the fridge and pulled out the bottle.

After filling two shot glasses, Hunter didn’t wait for her to join in before he slammed away his first shot.

Scarlet peered at him with narrowed eyes. “On edge much?”

“And you’re not?” He filled his shot glass again. This time Scarlet joined in and they both tossed the tequila back.

After allowing the burn of the alcohol to settle in her stomach, she looked at him. “I guess I’m used to the feeling.”

For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Flashes of him having her pinned against his apartment window with his hand between her legs had her mind reeling in a hundred different dirty directions. There was no way she would be able to deny that he woke a kind of desire inside her that had her thighs clenching at the thought of how hard and big he felt in her hand when she touched him. It was real fucking intense, and it scared the crap out of her.

Breaking eye contact, she reached for the bottle and poured each of them another shot. “So, what is it you do exactly, Mr. Keaton? Besides stalk women, wanting to be a good Samaritan every chance you get?” She swallowed another mouthful of tequila before shooting him a challenging look.

“I don’t go around wanting to help every woman I meet, Scarlet.”

“Then why are you so hell-bent on helping me?”

With his elbows on the counter, he leaned forward and hung his head down. “That’s a good fucking question.” He looked up, green eyes searching hers like he was looking for something inside them. “It’s a good question, because I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

From out of nowhere, it felt like someone had ramped up the heat by fifty degrees, the atmosphere suddenly thick with tension—the I want to tear your clothes off and screw your brains out kind of tension.

With a sudden dry throat, Scarlet gulped down another shot of alcohol. For some weird and unexplainable reason, she now felt real nervous being around him and his body that had become real distracting.

Probably feeling the pulsing tension between them as well, Hunter cleared his throat and placed his empty shot glass on the counter. “I need to go change the security code of the lock key.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be changing that security code every few hours during the time we’ll be staying here. We can go out, but no one can come in without that code.”

“How long are we going to stay here?”

He turned around and looked at her pointedly. “For as long as it takes me to figure out exactly what’s going on.”

It wasn’t an invitation for her to tell him what was going on. It wasn’t a dropped hint for her to open up and tell him all her secrets. Oh no. It was a promise. A vow that he would figure out everything about her and her past, and it was only a matter of time until he did.

Scarlet watched as he disappeared behind the wall that separated the entryway from the living area. There were a few beeping sounds as he reprogrammed the security code, and then he walked toward the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower. Try not to bury yourself in the bottom of that tequila bottle.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny, asshole.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Hunter stomped up the stairs, and when she heard the bedroom door shut, Scarlet pushed the shot glass to the side and grabbed the bottle, pouring the alcohol down her throat in one stream of liquid satisfaction. The more she drank, the less the sting was. Alcohol was the only thing that numbed her, that silenced the voices inside her head. She wasn’t an alcoholic—or at least she didn’t think she was. But alcohol did help her clear her head and take the edge off living with all the fucked up shit she had to deal with. God knew she needed something to silence the demons, to push away the memories. Without some relief from the ghosts of her past, she would have been certifiably insane a long time ago. Most nights she was too scared to even close her eyes in fear that he might come for her in her dreams. They may not have been real, her nightmares, but it was just as painful. She would wake up trying to claw her own damn skin off just to get rid of his touch, the feel of his wickedness against her flesh.

Talk about problems. It seemed that with Hunter Keaton came an entirely new set of problems. Not only was he determined to uncover her secrets, but he was instigating a war between her body and her head. Her body telling her that she really wanted to succumb to the temptation that was him, and her head trying to convince her no one could be trusted. Until now, she had only depended on herself for survival. Now there was Hunter, nothing more than a stranger, trying to get her to open up.

But how was she supposed to tell him, to let him in—to trust him? Was she even capable of trusting anyone anymore? It had been such a long time since she had freely trusted anyone, and look where that got her.

“Fuck,” she muttered when she placed the bottle back on the counter. For so long she had done great on her own, doing her own thing and not relying on anyone. But she wasn’t an idiot. She knew she really fucking needed help. For the last two days, Hunter had seemed adamant to help her—why, she didn’t know—and now there was this tiny glimmer of hope that maybe he could. Maybe Hunter could help her finally get her life back. Was it stupid and reckless of her to even harbor that little glimmer of hope? Probably…definitely.

Yet every molecule inside her wanted to trust him so badly, to be able to rely on someone else but herself for a change. A part of her wanted to open up, but she just couldn’t. He knew too much already. And judging by the way he managed to make her thighs clench just by looking at her, it was probably a sign that she was in too deep already.

Whenever she allowed herself to admire that hard as stone body of his, all she thought about was sex, sex, and more sex. It was like her body was just drawn to his somehow, needing it against her whenever they were near each other. It was the weirdest fucking thing.

But she knew Hunter’s type. The type of man that got off on controlling women sexually, to dominate. There was no way he would give up control to a woman. But that knowledge didn’t stop her from thinking about how much fun it would be to see how far he could be pushed, if she could crack him and make him give up control.

Just thinking about it caused a throbbing ache between her legs. All these thoughts of Hunter and sex and what it would feel like to have both at the same time had her heart racing, her spine tingling, and her insides coiled tight. It had been a while since Scarlet had allowed herself to enjoy all the pleasures a man had to offer. Having Hunter and that damn body of his around, exuding promises of sexual indulgence and gratification, was wreaking havoc inside her.

Dammit.

Scarlet shot back another mouthful of tequila in an attempt to tame the raging lust that threatened to bring forth the slut in her. She needed a distraction from her horny, dirty little mind. Something black laying on the counter caught her eye. A wallet. Hunter’s wallet.

Glancing down to the white men’s shirt she had on, along with the leather pants she had been wearing for the last two days, a great idea popped into her head.

She needed a distraction…and a distraction she would get.