The Criminal

Ch. 2: You ask a lot of questions.

My feet pound the treadmill as I near my third mile, sweat pouring from just about every area imaginable. Taylor Swift blares in my ear as I increase my speed, desperate to reach the finish line. I'm one of those people who work out because it's good for me, not because I particularly enjoy doing it. Don't get me wrong, I usually feel great after a run but psyching myself up to do it in the first place is always half the battle.

I complete my distance just in time for my phone to vibrate with a text from Cupid—the online dating app I installed three days ago. Four out of the five messages are nude requests and the fifth—and final message—is an astounding "Hey!" I respond immediately with a smiley face and am shocked when the three dots appear above the username, telling me whoever is on the other end is typing back. Robbie—according to his profile—is twenty-six, lives in London and works in banking. He loves long walks in nature and has a golden retriever named Doug. There's a picture of Doug in the sea and I instantly fall in love.

Robbie: Drinks this Saturday?

Normally I'd refuse. I prefer my dates to work a lot harder than that, but I find myself in need of a distraction. Someone other than my clients to focus my energy on.

Nicole: It's a date!

I'm moments away from locking my phone when another message comes in from Hayley. Peter wants you! 10 mins!!!!

Bollocks!

Usually, I'm fine squeezing a gym session into my lunch hour but today is obviously not my day. I quickly grab my belongings and skip on showering, which is disgusting, but what choice do I have? When Peter calls a meeting, it's usually because he has something important to share. So, instead, I drench myself in deodorant and deliberately keep my hoodie off in the hopes I can cool down enough before I have to face him.

"Nicole!"

Hayley is sat behind her desk, business as usual.

"Don't start!" I say, pre-empting her comment on my appearance. "I already know I look like shit. My hair is a mess, I have sweat dripping down my back and my leggings are so far up my arse, I may never recover."

"Umm—"

A cough sounds behind me, prompting me to spin around.

"Hunter!"

OH MY GOD!

"Hi."

His face doesn't move, but his eyes dance with amusement.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ahh, Nicole. You're back!" delights Peter, full of cheer. "Shall we?"

Hunter stands, beating my height by at least seven miles. I look at Hayley for some guidance but am met with nothing but an apologetic shrug.

"Umm—" I stop just short of Peter's office door, suddenly very aware I'm only in my sports bra.

"Here," offers Hunter, pulling his hoodie off.

He slides the material effortlessly over his head and in doing so, reveals a strip of skin just below his waist. I peak another tattoo, but don't get much of a glimpse. Instead, I find myself studying both his arms which—for the most part—are just as covered in tattoos as his neck. Each of the images somehow connect, creating a sleeve of wondrous storytelling. I notice there are never any names on his skin, which begs certain questions. Hunter certainly fits the description of a lone wolf. A soul destined to explore life on his own. But surely he has someone who cares about him. Someone who worries about him when he's not around. I pull my focus back to the present and am about to apologise for staring again when I look up, discovering him doing much the same to my chest. His gaze is fixed, heated by a raging fire. The way he's looking at me makes me feel held. Supported. Like nothing and no one can hurt me. His tongue slowly glides along his bottom lip, moistening the flesh in its wake. I notice a small, metal stud and become momentarily obsessed. I don't have much on an opinion on tongue piercings, but on Hunter it's hot as fuck. I blush under his watchful eye, desperately trying to second guess what he's thinking.