Free Crossed by Lacey Silks Page A

of you.”
    “You’re welcome. Where’s your computer?”
    “Office.” I pointed and closed my eyes.
    As Hunter set up the equipment I stayed down on the couch, watching him from a side angle. His forehead creased slightly when he was thinking. The stray piece of hair he kept lifting away from his eyes looked sexy. It’d be easier for him if I shortened it, but then he wouldn’t have the look of a hot-off-the-skillet man. Still, I recalled I owed him a cut.
    Over the next hour I watched Hunter as he unwound cables, plugged my computer into the smashed laptop from work, and started clicking. With the machinery on the coffee table, he sat on my plush carpet and, with his legs crossed, concentrated on the screen that highlighted his chiseled face. I watched his brows furrow and forehead crease. The slow buzz of my medication began working and I dozed off once in a while, waking up to small changes like the blanket over my body. At one point he knocked over the bag full of tampons and batteries, smiled to himself, and set them aside. Next time I woke up Hunter had no shirt on and was sitting in his jogging pants only. By the time two in the morning hit I could see that he was tiring, yawning every few minutes. My headache had passed, but I was exhausted. My adrenaline had spiked during the busy day and so I passed out again. Waking up at five, I found myself in my own bed. A light snore caught my attention. Hunter lay on the floor, with nothing but a rolled up towel under his head. He only wore his boxers now. At the sight of his naked body I felt the urge to glide my hands along his perfectly sculpted abs. On his left arm, underneath a thorn tattoo, was a scar, and I wondered how he got it.
    Tiptoeing around him, I picked up a blanket and covered his body. At the first touch of the fabric on his feet, Hunter jumped up. I screamed as I found myself in a sudden choke hold, barely able to breathe. He kept talking nonsense about not touching and staying away from him.
    “Hunter! It’s me!” I yelled out as my eyes felt like they’d burst rivers. The grip around my throat tightened more.
    “Hunter… nightmare…,” I said with what felt like my last breath, and he finally eased his hold.
    He backed up against the wall, slid down to the floor, and curled into a fetal position. I’d never seen a man this distraught and vulnerable. I wanted to hold him and caress him and kiss him to make it go away. I didn’t like this Hunter. Whatever had happened to him had crossed the line of torture a long time ago.
    “I’m sorry, Grace. I’m so sorry.” It appeared as if he wanted to disappear into the furthest and darkest corner of the room he could find.
    I crouched by his side, wearily reaching out to touch him. “It’s okay. I think you had a nightmare.”
    His entire body shook as he finally looked up into my eyes. His gaze then drew lower to his own body and the room, assessing the situation.
    “Yeah, I think so too. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I did that to you. It’s never happened before.”
    I stayed there for a moment in silence, watching his uncomfortable body language, and finally said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
    He let out a long breath and slouched. “No, it’s all right, Grace. I’ll be fine.”
    “I’m just going to use the bathroom.” I pointed toward the door and slowly backed out. Whatever had caused Hunter to jump like that had to be big, and I wondered whether it was the reason he was supposed to go to rehab. I sat down on the toilet and emptied my bladder before turning on the shower.
    Once under the water, I wondered what had happened to Hunter to make him so afraid and defensive. Who could have broken the caring man I’d seen in Hunter so far?
     

 
     
    C HAPTER 8
    The shower door opening startled me. I gasped at the sight of pure naked male perfection in front of me. No matter how many times I’d seen Hunter this way, I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Nor did I want