His Regret by Bella J.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hunter stayed behindin the pool, waiting for the regret and self-loathing to set in. It always did. After he screwed a woman, the demons inside him got wilder, crazier—stronger. It was his curse. His burden to bear for the rest of his life. But it never stopped him. For those few hours of being with a woman, controlling her, losing himself in pleasure, he was able to push aside all the fucked up craziness inside his head. Yet it never stopped him from hating himself more afterward. The memories would scream louder, the grief burn stronger, and all he would be able to do was look forward to the next time he was able to escape the pain even for just a little while.

Weird thing was, after being with Scarlet, he felt…nothing. It had been a few hours since what Hunter would call their epic fuckery, but he didn’t feel any of those usual shitty feelings that followed. His conscience wasn’t fucking around with him as it always did, making him feel like a low-life douchebag. But he did feel something, something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

Satiated.

Having sex with Scarlet and that rocking body of hers, hearing words coming out of her dirty little mouth, was better than he ever could have imagined. And he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Okay, of course he liked it, but he wasn’t sure if he liked the fact that he liked it. Goddammit, his mind was pulling and tugging in so many different directions that he felt confused as hell—which was also new. Feeling confused after sex wasn’t something he felt—ever.

Regret? Yes.

Shame? Yes.

Confused? Not so much.

The master bedroom light went off just as he glanced up at the first floor. She was probably in bed…and probably naked.

Dammit. Just thinking about her in bed, naked, had him wanting another round with her. And his cock agreed.

“Shit.”

He got out of the pool, wrapped a towel around his waist, and poured the last bit of whiskey in his glass down his throat.

What was happening to him? Ever since he met Scarlet he had a weird need to protect her. But why? He never felt anything other than horny or annoyed when it came to women. He never allowed himself to feel anything else. But somehow with Scarlet it was different…and that was bad—very bad. Just the fact that he wanted to be buried between her legs for the second time was a loud warning bell, and it wasn’t even two hours later.

Fuck. He needed to get his shit under control. He was wound up way too tight and needed a fix in order to get his head straight. But he couldn’t leave her. He didn’t even want to sleep in a different room than her, let alone leave her in this huge-ass house alone. But if he didn’t clear his head, he would crack wide open, and the pain would consume him to a point where he would lose every last thread of control he had.

Maybe if he changed the security code again and called up a few guys to hang around the house for a few hours, he could slip out without worrying about her.

Yes. He had to. If he didn’t do it, he would never be able to focus, or sleep. And God knew he needed to rest and be clear headed in the morning if he wanted to survive Scarlet Woods for another day.

Hunter pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Rick, I need an address of the closest dealer in Winnetka. Yeah? Is it on tonight? Great. Just call your guy and tell him you sent me. Thanks, bro.”

He hung up and instantly hated the fact that he had to leave her, but he had no choice. This was the only antidote he had when it came to the poison that pulsed through his veins on a daily basis. Without it, he would never have made it so long since…since…fuck.

He had to go.

Hunter changed the security code, called a few guys, and an hour later he walked into the bedroom to make sure she was okay before he left.

Standing beside the bed, he stared down at her. Of course she was naked. This woman was so damn comfortable in her own skin she would probably walk around town naked if she could. But with that body, he didn’t blame her. Everything about her was damn near perfect—except that mouth of hers that had the talent to piss him off and turn him on at the same time.

The summer heat caused her to kick off the sheet halfway. Her breasts looked so tempting, so perfect with the light of the moon shining in through the window. The sight reminded him of what her skin tasted like, how good it felt to suck and lick those beautiful round nipples, and to hear her labored breaths in his ear.

The palm of his hand started to itch with the need to touch those round tits, to spread his fingers along her skin and squeeze them until she moaned. He leaned forward with his hand, wanting to touch her, then she moved and a strand of dark hair fell over her face. For a moment, he was completely distracted by how beautiful she looked. Peaceful. She didn’t look so hardcore while she was sleeping. All the fire and fury of hell that seemed to beam from her face when she was awake was no longer there. Instead, he saw a beautiful, delicate woman who had been hidden away the entire time.

He softly brushed the strand of hair out of her face and gently traced his finger down her neck, her shoulder, and over the tattoo inked on her side. What kind of hell had she been through for her to want to permanently ink that word onto her skin? And the dog tags? Was it a coincidence that her cousin had once been a Marine and she had a tattoo of dog tags? I think not.

Jesus Christ, this woman just pushed all the wrong buttons in all the right ways and it was starting to fuck with his head.

No matter how long it took or what he had to do, he would find out what happened to her, what made her so cold, giving her a reason to no longer be the delicate and soft woman he saw laying in front of him.

Why? Because she was beautiful and he wanted to see more of her.