Hunted (Wild Mountain Scots, #2)

I woke to a dark room and Cameron’s chest rising and falling under my face. Warmth came off him like a furnace, and he swept his thumb in gentle repetitions over my lower back.

I’d dreamed about the man, wanting him badly. And he was right here. Flustered, I stretched against him. “Good nap?”

He rumbled a laugh. “I’ve been waiting for ye to wake.”

“Why, what time is it?”

“One in the morning.”

I skipped my gaze to the clock on the nightstand. “We missed the whole evening.”

“Or it starts now.” He kissed me, a smile on his lips.

Then he jumped up. With a swish of fabric, he opened the blinds, revealing an endless sea barely lit by a smattering of stars. Ghostly and silvered, the waves lapped at the beach.

In the half light, Cameron grinned bigger. “How pretty is that?”

Clutching the sheet to my naked body, I gazed at him and the view. I owed him fun. I’d promised myself I’d deliver it, and my options were dwindling. “Beautiful. Do you think it’s safe enough to go for a swim?”

His smile faltered. “Could be risky.”

I indicated to the protected yard that led to a high rock wall then down to the lonely beach. “Unless the photographers got into one of the neighbouring houses and has a view down, they won’t see us on the property. We can be in and out of the sea without anyone seeing.”

He rubbed his jaw, considering the plan. “I scoped the street and the coast multiple times while you’ve been snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

He continued on. “I’d know the two cars that chased us in a heartbeat, and neither has cruised by. Nor has anyone lingered outside. Not that I’ve spotted anyway. If they didnae see us come in here, and Austin keeps quiet, then I can’t see how we’d be easily found.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“For ye, anything.”

In only our underwear, we found our way into the backyard and slunk along the high fence down to the waterline. Once outside the passcode-secured gate and over the rocks, any passerby could see us. Except there was no one around. No walkers on this isolated length of beach. Few lights in the other houses along the coast road. Even if we had been found, we had a house to hide in that was ours for at least another day, and a car in the garage with which we could escape.

I wanted to take the risk. I wanted to share more with him than my problems and my time.

In my dream, Cameron had swept in and saved me from my recurring nightmare. On a movie set, with Derren looming over me, Cameron had grabbed him by the neck and hauled him off me.

I’d never dreamed of saving myself, but maybe that would come.

Hand in hand, we crossed the damp sand and let the waves rush over our feet. Despite the warm evening, the chill of the sea sent shivers through me.

“Just like we did in the loch, aye?”

He meant a running jump. I sucked in my stomach, gripped his fingers, and charged into the water.

But a wave hit my belly, and I huffed a hard breath then stalled. Cameron gave a dark laugh and swept my legs out from underneath me, holding me close. Then he dropped us both to the sea bed.

Ocean water rushed over my shoulders, and I stifled a squeal, exhilaration following in a rush.

I surged away from him, then sent an arc of water back his way.

Cameron lunged and grabbed my leg, and hauled me into the safety of his arms. Then he kissed me right there in the waves, branding me with meaningful, convincing sweeps of his lips.

It was a repeat of our fun in Scotland, but this time, the water was secondary to the main event. Learning how to kiss each other, how to move against the other, all became vital.

Ever vigilant, Cameron kept one eye on our surroundings, and I remained primed to swim fast then run if needed, but no one bothered us.

We stole our fun from those who hunted us.

Somehow, we drifted out deeper until the water covered our shoulders. Our fun sobered to a now-familiar urgency.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Cameron urged.

I did, settling into his arms while he kept us afloat. Against me, his hard dick pulsed, and I was instantly ready for him.

“Here?” I asked quietly.

“Want to?”

“Hell yes.”

He kissed me, and as always, the world vanished. Out in the water, we were entirely hidden, so reaching down to move our underwear aside was a natural step.

Then, right there in the ocean, he pushed inside me, his dick blunt-ended and so thick. I moaned and held on tight, trying to time my moves with his.

We made tiny actions, lost to the waves, but impactful all the same.

Cameron gripped my waist and used my buoyancy to lift me, sliding home with aching perfection. We fit so well. Every thrust had me seeing stars alongside the blanket overhead. My emotions for this man amplified the effect.

In no time, I hid my face against his and silently cried out my climax.

He followed swiftly after, groaning my name.

Of all the romantic moments I’d had with Cameron, this one came close to the top.

I never wanted it to end.

We finally emerged from the water and dripped our way through the gate and back into the yard.

Cameron found us towels in the laundry room off the kitchen, then activated the security system. I stripped and dried myself, nerves taking hold of me. Then Cameron handed me his hoodie, and I pulled it on, the acres of fabric hanging over me like a dress.

My hair dripped saltwater onto the soft material, and I blurted my words, a repeat of the ones he’d said to me in the car days ago. “Want to hear a sad story?”

Cameron tilted his head at me, then took a kitchen stool, pushing another one out for me.

But I didn’t want to sit.

If I didn’t do this now, I never would.

“The assault I told you about.” I swallowed hard. “I want to tell you about that.”

He stopped moving, and I gripped my fingers together to stop them from shaking.

“I’m right here and listening,” he said.

“It took place onset, on camera. During a sex scene, actually.”

Every image came readily to mind. The clinical smell, the leather couch wiped over by some eager assistant earlier in the day.

“I know you’re thinking, how can a filmed sex scene be anything but by the books?” I couldn’t look at him, but I sensed his full attention as I paced. “This was during the filming of Huntswoman, and it was the last scene to be filmed. Everyone was waiting to call it a wrap, but we couldn’t get it right. The problem was between Derren and me. We’d broken up a long time before, and not amicably.”

“What a nightmare.”

“Horrible, but it was just a job, and I’m a professional so I thought I could put feelings aside.” I sniffed, my brain jumping between things I wanted to say. “Which if you’re going to understand the significance, you need to know how our relationship went down and why we broke up. I was nineteen when Derren and I became a couple, but we’d been friends for years. Both finding success as kids. His family weren’t involved in the business like mine, so I’d helped him out understanding the industry. We had the same pressures and spoke the same language. There was a kinship there, more than any great love. But then Dad died. On the day of the funeral, Derren sent a message saying that he wasn’t coming. He couldn’t handle everyone else’s raw emotion. It would impact his mindset for a character he was playing.”

“Fucking dickhead,” Cameron grumbled.

“Yeah, and it gets worse. He then didn’t contact me at all for weeks. I knew we had a filming schedule coming up, so I reached out to him. He asked me if I was over it yet, meaning my dad’s tragic and violent death, and in my stunned silence, he said he was seeing someone else. I told him I was breaking up with him but what he did was still shit, and he called me a bitch for not being around. Basically that it was my fault he’d cheated.”

I paused for breath, the memory of my failed relationship jangling my nerves.

“He was my first kiss. When I was thirteen and had never kissed a boy, I had to for a scene. With Derren. It could’ve been so embarrassing, but we made it fun. Then he turned into a self-obsessed narcissist, treating the people around him like shit and believing himself to be god-like, all because his female following had suddenly boomed. After the breakup, the next time we saw each other was on that movie set. For most of the scenes, we weren’t together. The plot has two separate storylines which come together in the explosive finish. You know, the whole save the day, hot sex, big deal climax to the movie. And everyone knew that this was going to be an issue for us. No matter how we approached those scenes together, we were wooden as fuck.”

“No joke.”

“Right? Movie sets now have people called intimacy coordinators who handle sex scenes. The woman said I was doing fine, but Derren had problems. Oh, how he hated that. I had all these comments come my way, all this resentfulness coming out of how I was sabotaging him. Giving him bad vibes. And it was already the worst, the fucking worst having to touch him and listen to his griping, but I bit my lip and forced myself to internalise it. At the end of a very long day, he asked for remote cameras to finish the scene. We’d already established a closed set, no additional people hanging around, so this just meant the camera operators backed off and did their job from a booth. Essentially, it was just us on this battered leather couch. My leading scenes had been done, so I was reacting, which meant having my face and body at the right angles, but the focus was on Derren.” I risked a look at Cameron.

In the pale light, he blanched. “What shite ye had to go through. After a breakup, to have to be naked under your ex.”

My laugh was hard. “Not entirely naked. I got to wear tape. Derren had this kind of pad on him.” An insidious sensation crept over my skin. I had to finish this. “So there he was, in the throes of fake ecstasy, but again and again, the director called him on his bad acting. Soon, she and my mom were arguing and had drawn the attention of people around.”

“Leaving no witnesses.”

“That’s when Derren changed. He slowed and stared down my body underneath him. Then I felt it. He had an erection. Occasionally, that happens to guys during sex scenes, but it’s rare. A movie set is not sexy. Far from. And they’d stop right away. But he didn’t, and it occurred to me he’d purposefully let himself become aroused. And that’s where the acting turned to real-life. Instead of his thrusts stopping short, they ground into me, and his touch was hurting. Once I realised what he was doing, I panicked. I was trapped there. Yet no matter how sick it made me, I carried on reacting because I needed it to be over. Right before the director came back in and called cut, he came. It dripped on me. The indignity and the horror of it broke something in my head. I was powerless. Used. Degraded.”

“Fuck,” Cameron drawled.

He was putting together the picture of why I’d freaked out yesterday afternoon.

“For a long while after,” I continued, too cold, too hyperaware, “including when I first met you, I couldn’t understand why I was so freaked out. I didn’t feel like I had the right to say I’d been attacked. There had been no violence, aside from the grip of his hands on my body. It had gone down as per the scene I’d consented to, plus the actions weren’t that different from the script. Who the hell was I to compare myself to women who’d been hurt in far worse ways?”

“Aye, the actions were different. Completely different. He broke a code of trust between ye. There was no consent. That fucking pervert needs to be charged with sexual assault.”

I opened and closed my mouth, fresh emotion blooming. “I took my revenge with the song lyrics.”

“Is that enough for ye?”

Was it?

“No!” I half-yelled. “It’s nowhere close. I haven’t looked at the headlines, but I know what they’ll say. How my words will be examined, my actions twisted. I’ll be the spurned woman or a jealous bitch. The journalists will come up with their own theories, and none will point the finger at Derren.”

Then I came to the salient point, the one I’d been unable to find a solution for. “My therapist gave me tools to help me, but what if Derren does the same or worse to someone else? Some young woman new to the industry and unlikely to complain? He treats women like shit, so it isn’t a far stretch to imagine him doing more. No, it’s not enough, but I don’t see what else I can do.”

“That film is a crime scene.”

I stared. “The movie itself?”

“Aye. They have to pull it.”

I jammed my fingers into my damp hair. “I can’t even imagine how that would happen. It’s a machine in motion. The premiere is next week.”

The time spent. The massive efforts involved. Not to mention the money. My brain whirred.

Maybe he was right. The whole tape might even corroborate my story. But pulling the movie would cause financial disaster.

It would ruin Mom.

“I don’t have a choice in that,” I decided.

Cameron took a heavy breath. “Thank ye for telling me. I’m so sorry for what ye suffered. If I ever see Derren, with your permission, he’ll find out what it’s like to be on the receiving end of pain ye can’t avoid.”

I gave a shaky laugh. “I’m not afraid of him, but I’d be more worried about you getting arrested after.”

He rolled his shoulders, as if shrugging off the idea. “Don’t. Ye needn’t worry about me. Ye, on the other hand, are the strongest person I know. For years, you’ve carried other people’s secrets and then shouldered your own suffering. I’m not about to tell ye what to do, but just answer me this. How will ye feel watching that film?”

“I never watch my own movies.”

“Then how do ye feel about other people watching it?”

Too-familiar nausea clamped on my belly, and I pressed my hands to it, my composure collapsing. “I don’t know, because I’d barely let myself think about it. But I have to because in a few days, I’ll have no choice. I’ve avoided facing this as I know exactly the kind of mental torment it’s going to bring.”

He made a sound of distress and reached for me. “That’s your answer. Can I hug ye now?”

I went into his arms, tucking in against him and letting the extreme sense of safety replace awful feelings from Derren’s actions.

Cameron’s gentle guidance was leading me to only one solution. Despite the problems and all the difficulties it would bring, I had to regain some control.

The movie might be set in stone, but I wasn’t.

My voice came out to whisper, “I can’t go to that premiere.”

Then the house alarm shrieked, and all hell broke loose.