Taking Him (Lies We Tell) by Jackie Ashenden Page A

like that, but shit, he couldn’t stay.
    He’d embraced the choice to see her as a woman, treat her as a woman. Touch her in the way he wanted to, the way she wanted him to. But he hadn’t fully thought through the consequences. Hadn’t realised quite how desperate he’d be after hearing her name her fantasies about him, after watching her touch herself like that, after touching her.
    She’d felt hot and wet and tight around his fingers. The scent of her arousal. The weight of her breast in his hand. The sounds she’d made…
    Hunter closed his eyes, having to stop and take a deep breath to get himself under control.
    On occasion, if he needed the power trip, he’d get himself off with the woman in the room, making sure she had her eyes closed or was blindfolded. But to do the same with Ellie felt wrong.
    She wasn’t a stranger he’d never have to see again. An unknown woman he’d objectified for his own private pleasure. She was someone he knew. Someone who knew him.
    And that had made him feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been since he was sixteen years old. A way that almost made him…afraid.
    He cursed under his breath. A shower, that’s what he needed. Some privacy to take himself in hand. Christ, he was so goddamned hard it hurt.
    Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, he pulled it up over his head and threw it on the bed.
    And became conscious that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t turn. He knew who it was. “Go away, Ellie.”
    “No. You promised me you wouldn’t walk away.”
    “Yeah, well, I lied.”
    Soft footsteps behind him. “I wanted to know what you meant when you said you were taking. Especially considering I was the one getting the orgasm.”
    How could he explain his own particular brand of selfishness? The kick he got from the power of denial? “An orgasm you had on my terms.”
    “So? I didn’t care. I liked your terms.”
    “But not enough to stop asking me questions.”
    He didn’t realise how close she was until her arms wrapped round his hips and her body pressed up against the bare skin of his back. He froze, going rigid at the unexpected touch. The urge to pull her away violently rose but he fought it. He’d laid hands on her in a fit of violent instinct twice now—there wouldn’t be a third time. He liked to think he was better than that.
    Ellie’s arms tightened and he could feel the press of her cheek against his spine.
    He tried to breathe, a gut-deep, inexplicable fear turning over and shaking itself like a lazy dog inside him. He didn’t want to tell her to let him go, didn’t want to draw attention to it yet again. But in the end, he didn’t have to.
    “Hunter,” Ellie whispered softly against his back. “I know you don’t want me to touch you. I know that for some reason it’s difficult. And I promise I won’t ask questions or demand reasons from you. But I want you to know that you didn’t take anything from me. You gave instead. So now it’s my turn to give.”
    His jaw ached he held himself so still. Afraid he’d react like he had before. Throw her off. Hurt her. And yet at the same time, he burned. Her touch igniting the fire inside him. A fire that would never go out. How was this possible? To want so much and yet to have this crawling kind of dread sliding through him?
    Ellie’s hands slowly spread out over his stomach and rested there.
    He shut his eyes, his breathing fast. She needed to stop. Let go, leave him the fuck alone. But as he opened his mouth to tell her, he realised something else was happening to him.
    The heat of her body had begun to sink into him, spreading out, warming him up. She smelled familiar, delicate flowers and musk, reminding him of a time when she’d been the one bright spot in a dark and confusing world. The one thing that had made sense to him. His reason for getting up in the morning.
    Her thumbs moved on his bare skin, a soothing touch, and his knotted muscles began to relax. He could feel her breath on his skin, and