Hacking His Code (Beguiling a Billionaire Book 7), page 10
“Except that my major trust issues will never allow me to grow close to a man,” she says morosely. “I’m doomed to be a cat-less spinster.”
“You know, I can help with that.”
“What, are you going to buy me a cat?”
It’s hard to bite my tongue, but some things you can’t rush. Nothing I say is going to make her suddenly trust men, but maybe by listening to her, she can see that, at the very least, we aren’t all assholes.
I hop on the edge of the bed, close enough to listen but far enough away that I’m not invading her space.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I implore. “It can be anything.”
She exhales heavily, shaking her head in frustration. “The worst part is feeling so alone. I have online acquaintances, but none of them know me. The real me.”
“What about girl friends?”
“I changed schools at fifteen, and it was an awkward time for getting to know people. I was friendly with a couple other women in the dorms, but when I moved out, everything fizzled.”
“You know, it’s not always going to be like this, don’t you? You’ll eventually have a career and you’ll meet coworkers.”
She snickers. “Except that a lot of the jobs I’d be looking at are remote. In my field of study, it’s growing more and more common.”
“For what it’s worth, I think people would be lucky to know you.”
“I want to tell you something, but I don’t want you to make fun of me.”
“I won’t.”
“I imagine what it must be like to be close to someone. To trust them, but also, to feel them. To lean into them. To feel my skin press against theirs. I’m not just talking about sex, just the intimacy of their flesh. Their warmth. A shared space.”
Fuck, I can no longer stay silent.
“I don’t think you realize just how similar we are, Ari.”
“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re a virgin. I’m not going to buy that.”
“Far from it, but as you said, you’re not talking about sex. Every woman in my orbit either doesn’t know my real name or knows how many zeros are in my bank account. Nothing about my relations with women is healthy or even intimate.”
“Well, I guess we’re just two fucked up peas born of pods on opposite sides of the track.”
“We could help each other, you know.”
“Please don’t suggest a hooker.”
“Our goals and expectations for each other are clear, thus, we have no reason to mistrust each other. You say you want a man invading your space, let me be the man.”
Her brow furrows like I’m trying to teach her some complex math equation.
“I’m not suggesting sex,” I assure her. “Just intimacy. Press your skin against mine. Relax. Share our warmth.”
The look of fear in her eyes is unmistakable.
“Either that or I’ll pay for your therapy so you can get over whatever PTSD you have.”
“No—absolutely not.”
“Then you stay as you are and become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Tears well in her big, doe eyes, and I instantly regret my words. I close the distance between us and take her body into my arms. Initially, she’s stiff and resistant, and I almost back away, but then she seems to melt, burying her face into my chest.
“I don’t want to be like this. So hateful and full of bitterness.”
“Then…let’s help each other.” I lay down on the bed, stretching my body out, inviting her to curl up against me.
A flicker of eagerness flashes in her eyes. I don’t know if it’s for me or just the desire to be close to someone, so she can feel her skin pressed against another’s.
But then I see the hesitation.
The desire I feel for Ari pales every want I’ve had for another woman. I love her complexities and crave learning her intricacies. She’s better than all those who have come before. But what am I to her?
As desperate as I am to pull her down and cradle her in my arms, she has to want it, which is why the hesitation in her eyes is torture.
She swallows hard as she looks down at me. “You’re going to think I’m weird—no, you already do.”
“I think you’re interesting, which is very different from weird,” I assure her.
“Why?” she asks suspiciously. “I’m not stupid enough to think you’re incapable of finding a woman to cuddle with.”
“I may have been born into a family of tech juggernauts, but believe it or not, I have other ambitions for my life. I’ve always fancied myself as one of those cuddlers. You know, the ones they pay to lay there and cuddle you.”
“I’m serious. My guess is you have plenty of options for bedmates, so why this?”
The last thing I want is to freak her out and tell her that the more time I spend with her, the less I want to see her go, so I settle for something close to the truth.
“We both have issues, Ari. Not just you. Besides, I hope to restore the reputation of good men everywhere.”
She bites her lower lip as she mulls over my words, making her look irresistible, and I begin to wonder if this was a very bad idea. Then she pulls her sweatshirt upward and off her body, so she’s sitting in a thin, cotton tank top, which fits her perfectly and leaves very little to the imagination.
Holy Jesus, you just told her she could trust you. Don’t fucking ogle her.
“Okay, so…you’re now my professional cuddler? Is that how I should introduce you to people?”
Her body slides next to mine, her head connecting softly with my shoulder. Her light, flowery scent fills my nostrils, and I adjust myself around her.
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” I say, using my phone to turn off the lights.
Her body is rigid, her hand trembling as it presses against my torso.
“You don’t have to be scared of touching me. You’re not going to hurt me.”
“It’s just…very personal,” she replies.
“That’s the point.”
I take her hand and place it against my chest, so she can feel my beating heart.
Big mistake, because my heart is now racing.
For her.
She relaxes, her fingers stretching, gaining more confidence. Her breathing slows, caressing my neck with its warm rush.
I could be content just lying here all night, feeling her cheek against me, breathing her in. It’s a feeling unlike any I’ve had before. A contentness I’m not used to.
“Hunter?” Her voice comes out like a whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Arinessa
I wake with my body pressed against Hunter’s, his warm breath gently cascading over my bare shoulder.
My heart should be racing. I should be anxious and trying like hell to find a way to gracefully exit the room—no, the planet.
And yet, I outwardly sigh, extending my arm further over his midsection.
My body fits perfectly alongside his, and despite being solid muscle, his firmness is divine. Snuggled against him, his scent is stronger, more powerful. Intoxicating. It’s as calming as any essential oil, the kind of manly musk I’ve read about in romance novels.
I imagine it’s how a boyfriend would smell. One part safe, another part alluring, wholly inviting. What I wouldn’t give to roam his body further, exploring his hard muscles with my hand, my leg, my mouth. I hardly think he’d object.
What I wouldn’t give for more courage.
Hunter stretches, and I back away, giving him room in case he doesn’t feel the same way I do.
“That was a good six hours,” he says. “I expect a proper yelp review. A good tip.”
His hair is tousled, yet perfect, because he’s been given all the gifts in life.
My hair, on the other hand, is in desperate need of a comb and de-tangler.
He hops out of bed with way more grace than I mustered yesterday and proceeds to the bathroom.
To say that last night was significant is an understatement. I feel like another woman, one who wants to live her life, love, and trust again.
Sure, there are a few rotten apples in the barrel, but maybe not all guys are deserving of my contempt.
I must be high on pheromones because this is so not me.
I enter the open door to the bathroom and brush my teeth alongside Hunter, trying not to look too exuberant.
“What do you fancy for breakfast?” he asks.
“You pick. Something carby.”
“I have just the thing for you.”
Looking in the mirror is slightly mortifying as my hair looks as though it hasn’t been properly combed…well, ever.
“I need to take a shower and maybe just shave my head. What grows back can’t be half as bad.”
He leans against the counter in the casual way that he does, carefree and without thought. “You’ve been stressed. Why don’t you run yourself a bath?”
A bath sounds absolutely decadent, but I’m on a time crunch. Every minute counts.
You’re never going to see a tub like his again, so you might as well take advantage of it. Twenty more minutes washing up won’t make much of a difference.
“That sounds nice.”
Hunter
After closing the door, I lean with my back against it, imagining Arinessa as she removes her clothes.
Determined to be a gentleman, I’ve made every effort to avoid making her uncomfortable. I spent an entire sleepless night frozen in place, worried that I was going to pop a boner at the worst possible moment. It was pure hell.
With Arinessa otherwise occupied, now is the perfect time to relieve my pent-up frustration, so I make my way over to the kitchen trash receptacle and slide a hand into my boxers, gripping my hardened flesh.
I brace my other hand on the counter and begin stroking myself as I imagine Arinessa naked in my bath, water lapping at her breasts.
In my mind, she wants me just as badly as I want her, and her hunger is insatiable. The vision is so powerful, a dozen good pumps do me in, and I spend myself in the can.
Relieved, I call down to the kitchen to have pastries sent up, then I make a pot of coffee, waiting for Arinessa to finally emerge from the washroom.
The wait is excruciating, though I know that when she comes out, I’ll see no reprieve. I’ll get to spend the day around her, theorizing, strategizing—being right fucking next to her as she studies file after file.
Maybe this just means I need to revisit how I meet women. I think back to the last several conversations I’ve had with the fairer sex and remember various discussions of purses, Real Housewives, and the best place to buy drugs. All things I have zero interest in.
Arinessa makes me laugh, and watching her brain at work is addictive. Being around her more is going to be torture.
Shortly after breakfast arrives, Arinessa emerges from her bath dressed in comfortable clothes, hair fitted into a towel, phone to her ear.
She’s talking with her mother, her face contorting from worry to relief to joy. Seeing her smile makes my heart skip a beat, but I force myself to look away, not wanting to intrude on her private conversation.
Maybe I should convince Ari to wake up here more often.
The thought comes out of nowhere and should scare the ever-living hell out of me. After all, I’ve only just met her.
And yet, with her, I feel like I’ll never get bored. Ari strikes me as the type of woman that would love a good Escape Room, or even one of those places where you get loaded and recreate works of art to hang on your wall. This isn’t just about sex, though my body’s reaction to her suggests it’s how I’d like to spend a large portion of our time together.
Ari bounds towards me excitedly. “Oh my gosh, my mother said yes to the trial, and they’re beginning treatment! They’re keeping her in the hospital for the first week to monitor progress.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say, wishing I could take her into my arms but wholly sure that it would be inappropriate.
“They say she could make a complete recovery!”
“I bet she will. You should pick out a gift basket and have it delivered to her. Just send me the one you think she’ll like and her room number.”
Her brow draws in skeptically. “Really?”
“Really.”
She blinks half a dozen times like she’s trying to register that she’s holding winning lottery numbers. I’ve never met a woman so easy to please and can’t even imagine how she’d act if I actually bought her something of value, like a car.
Her thumbs move over her phone, and a minute later, my own vibrates. She’s sent me a link to a treat basket with various chocolate-covered fruit.
“I’ll have it delivered this afternoon, but I’m ordering one that’s double the size. She’s going to go through those rather quickly, I presume.”
“Oh-okay!” Arinessa says, her voice ripe with hope.
And just like that, the two-hundred-dollar gift basket I purchased for Arinessa’s mother has brought me more joy than anything money has afforded me in…years.
Arinessa pulls the towel from her head, tossing it into the hamper. Damp waves of hair cascade down her back, soon to be a mess of tangles if history is any indication.
Arinessa reclaims her seat from yesterday. “Let’s get down to business.”
I most definitely agree that we should be getting down to business, though my idea of how we should do that would differ vastly from hers.
Calm yourself. This is a professional acquaintance you’re seducing in your head.
She logs into the mainframe, her fingers never slowing. Everything she does is so laser-focused that she doesn’t realize how closely I’m watching her, how I’m studying her jaw as it shifts when she’s reading, how her brow lifts when she’s puzzling together information. I want to remember every part of her.
Without taking her eyes from the screen, she says, “Your aunt was way ahead of her time.”
“She had quite a brain on her, or so I’ve been told.”
“This damn folder holds up to every attack I throw at it. She didn’t just think about infiltration in her time. She looked to the future and the technology that was probable and protected against it.”
“In the tech world, you kind of know what’s coming, but even I wouldn’t be able to account for the factors my aunt did.”
Her fingers fly over the keyboard, typing at least ninety-words-a-minute as she enters data into various screens, trying to find a backdoor into the file my aunt named: Rand.
But my mind is lightyears away from where it’s supposed to be and entirely focused on the problem-ladened beauty before me.
I have to tell her.
“Ari…” I say, my voice trailing off as I try to gather the courage to say words I’ve never spoken to a woman.
“Yeah,” she replies, eyes glued to the screen.
“We are a lot more alike than I could have ever imagined.”
She chuckles dryly, casting me a sardonic look.
“Hear me out,” I implore. “We are good at what we do, and we have a hard time trusting people.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Maybe you’re good at what you do, but I’ve yet to have any real wins.”
She goes back to the computer screen, and I notice that her hands are shaking ever so slightly.
I can’t let this moment get away. Not when I’m just now beginning to accept my feelings and what they mean.
“I don’t think you understand the point I’m trying to make.”
Arinessa turns back to me, and unruly strands of her hair break free from behind her ear. I long to get close to her, to tuck those strands back into place.
“What are you getting at?”
I swallow hard, trying to come up with the right words that would show her how serious I am without sounding crazy. Simply telling her the truth, that after only forty-eight hours I’m completely smitten by her, would probably scare Ari, especially with her experiences with men.
But I can’t let this moment pass because I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to have this conversation again.
“It’s just that—”
My phone vibrates, and I lose my train of thought. I look down to see an email that makes my stomach twist with dread—good old Aunt Lucy.
Without thinking, I open the message, frowning when I realize that it contains exactly what I was afraid of: demands.
It takes me a minute to realize Ari is still looking at me expectantly, though I know the moment for heartfelt confessions has passed.
“I’m going to have to tend to some business,” I mutter.
“Oh, okay.”
“I’m not sure how long this will take me, but there’s plenty of food in the fridge, and if there’s something you need, you can use the intercom button and someone will assist you.”
In ten minutes, I’m dressed. In twenty, I’m out the door, making my way down to my car.
“Where would you like to go,” my driver asks.
“The FBI.”
Arinessa
Finding someone in today’s world, with modern technology, shouldn’t be that hard. Everyone leaves a mark.
Which is why after three days of searching, I’ve come to the conclusion that Lucy Whitmore is dead.
Remembering my brunch, I went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and woke up alone in Hunter’s bed, him never returning from yesterday’s business.
My body missed Hunter, however illogical that sounds. I tossed and turned all night, craving his scent. Everything about that man screams: WARNING!, but he does something to my soul. He makes it sing.
But now’s not the time to dwell on men I’ll never have.
Come on, Lucy…
I tap my foot impatiently under the table, eager for any break in the case. I may never be able to recover her from whatever shallow grave she’s in, but if I can provide Hunter with new information, maybe there will be some kind of constellation prize in it for me.
A knock sounds on the door, startling me, and I check my phone to see I have two hours until my brunch rendezvous.
