Hunter's Heart (12 page)

He kissed her thighs then sucked the bend of her knees and nipped at her calves.

“Be still,” he said when she squirmed under his explorations. She did her best but his attentions had every centimeter of her skin exquisitely sensitive and with each kiss or caress it became more difficult. His hand moved up the curve of her spine. When he reached her neck he moved her hair aside to kiss and suck.

“Hunter. Hunter please.
Stop.
I’m…I’m….” She couldn’t finish. He flipped her over as the orgasm wracked through her, pressing his hand between her legs.

“I’m sorry.” He held her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so close.”

Dear goodness, the man was apologizing for making her come.

“Well that’s one,” she gasped, as the last vestiges of the orgasm rippled through her. “Eleven to go.”

He took her mouth in a demanding kiss. When he broke away, she gingerly touched his lip.

“No. Kissing you makes it better.” He captured her hand. “Celia….” He rested his lips on her palm as if to prove it didn’t hurt. “Tell me what you like, what you want me to do.” He released her hand and lightly trailed his fingers over her arm.

“Or, we can have a do-and-tell session.”

“A what?”

“I do something.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers. “And you tell me if you like it and want more.” His lips latched onto a nipple and sucked.

“That,” she gasped, “goes in the like-it-a-lot column.”

He laughed and released her. She cupped his face and raised his head to look into his eyes. “Please. You want to know what I want. Let me tell you.” She was determined not to mess this up with a lack of honesty.

“Tell me.” He braced himself over her.

She stretched and turned off the bedside lamp to make it easier for her to talk. Her hand cruised over his shoulder and down over his bicep as she gathered courage. “First, I want you to understand I have no sexperience and sexpertise.”

“Wait.” He rolled to his back, reaching to turn on the light.

“Please, I don’t want the light.” There was enough light in the room for her to see his confused expression.

He came back and rested a hand on her hip. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t ever want to be restrained or hit.” She’d had enough of that in her life to know she didn’t want more. From anyone. She felt him tense and his breathing changed. Panic gripped her.
Were those things that he liked? Wanted? Had she ruined everything? Again.

“Tying you up is not something that would get me off. The only way I would do it is if you asked me.” He pushed back her hair then ran his hand down her neck to the swell of her breast. “I would never hit you. Never. I would never do anything to hurt you. I promise you.”

She nodded.

“Has anyone has ever hurt you like that?” He said with a definite edge in his voice.

“Why? Would you look for them and do something?” She remembered the man at Pappy’s.

“Yes.” He reached for the light—this time turning it on. He cupped her chin and lifted her head. “Look at me. I want you to know I’m serious. If anyone ever hurts you, I want to know. I
will
find them. I will make sure they never hurt you, or anyone else again.” That quiet fire she’d seen burn in the eyes of Special Ops men was a full-blown, raging,
dangerous
wildfire in his.

“Understand?”

She nodded.

“About that lack of sexperience and sexpertise.”

She closed her eyes.

“I have no flipping idea what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes flew open.

“Sex with you is freaking fantastic. That first night with you was…. I don’t know how to explain it.”

She shifted uncomfortably, embarrassed by his praise.

“You took control and holy shit. You were amazing.” He turned on his side and reached to turn off the light.

“No. Leave it on. I want to see you. It excites me to see your reaction when I touch you.”

“You are a dangerous woman, Celia West.”

“Is that a good or bad dangerous?”

He laughed. “Both.”

“I only want to give you the pleasure you give me.” She traced the corded muscles of his powerful arms with her fingers. Ran her tongue along the edge of defined muscles, tasting him, enjoying the low rumbles of pleasure he made. She moved between his legs. “Bend your legs.” She scraped her nails up the back of his thighs as she kissed, nipped and sucked the inside until his skin quivered. When she reached his balls, he rose up on his elbows to watch. She paused and gave him a questioning look.

“I want to see what you’re doing.”

She swept her hair to one side then put her hands alongside his body, scooting up so his dick was trapped between her breasts. She bent, lapped at his flat belly and his musky scent filled her nostrils. His dick jerked a response. “I like I can make powerful man like you respond this way.”

“I like it too.” He groaned.

She licked her way to his nipple, took it between her teeth and tugged as she played her tongue over the tiny piece of captured flesh. Hunter sucked in a long breath and dropped back. She was surprised to find he enjoyed that as much as she did. Even more surprising was how much pleasure her exploration of his body gave him. She released the nipple and looked up at him. “Don’t want to watch anymore?” she teased.

He moved and in a flash, she was on her back with him between her legs, spreading them.

“I do. I want to watch from here.” His hand went between her legs. “Are you ready for me?”

She’d been ready since he kissed her downstairs.

“You are amazing,” he said in a low rumble. He braced his arms beside her, entering her in a long, slow move that brought simultaneous sighs of pleasure. He withdrew and entered slowly again. She arched, moving her hips against him, urging him to go fast, plough into her hard.

Her arms and legs wrapped around him in an effort to get more of his body against hers. In a stunning, dizzying rush, with a swirling pinwheel of color she came—total body tremors almost as violent as Hunter’s as he came. Panting, he dropped his head to the pillow and started to roll off.

“No. Stay. Remember, I like that.”

“Mmmm.”
He kissed her shoulder and stayed where he was. She slept for a while and when she woke, he was on his back and she was tucked against his side, her hand on his chest.

“What does the other guy look like?” she asked, playing with the hair under her fingers, enjoying the way his skin quivered under her touch.

He lifted his head and squinted, considering her for a long moment. “What gave me away?”

“The gashes on your knuckles—”

“Aren’t gashes,” he interrupted. “They’re scratches.”

She brought his hand close to her eyes, giving it a serious examination. “Nope. Those are gashes.”

“Could have gotten that working on my truck.”

“May…be,” she said drawing out the word. “But I don’t think you got the size-ten boot-shaped bruise on your back from working on your truck.”

He levered up on an elbow.

“I saw it when you turned on your side to get the light.”

“It was the whole team, not just me and the other guys started it. I called it an accident—ah fuck—because most women aren’t happy when a guy mentions a bar brawl.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not most women.”

“You most certainly are not.”

“Bar brawl, huh?”

“Yeah.” He flopped back on the bed and laid a kiss on her. On to number four.

Chapter 8

Guppy.

The following weeks they spent every free moment together. Exploring the area, finding new places to eat. Enjoying warm days and nights. One long weekend in DC, she introduced him to the art she enjoyed so much. He was surprised when she said she’d never been in the ocean. He happily introduced her to the blue world he loved so much. And sex on the beach.

They went back to Johnny’s and Vic was thrilled to see them.

“Let’s go to that gallery with the painting you liked,” he said as they left. He’d already called to be sure it was there and asked it be put aside for him. “Maybe we can find out where it was painted.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him the direction of the store.

The clerk set the painting on a small easel to be examined.

“Do you know where this cottage is?” Hunter asked.

“Oh, yes,” the woman said, retrieving a folded piece of paper from the back of the frame. “Ireland. The artist lives here now. Last time she was here she told us she works at a seafood restaurant. Oh. What is the name of the place?” She pursed her lips and tapped a finger to her chin.

Celia gave him a wide-eyed look. “Pappy’s?” She asked.

“Yes.” She beamed and pointed her finger at Celia. “That’s the place.”

“We’ll take it,” he said.

“You don’t know how much it is.” The woman’s delight turned to surprise.

“Okay, how much is it?”

“Three hundred and seventy-five dollars.”

“Wrap it up for the lady.”

“Hunter, no.”

“It was meant to be yours,” he said. Nothing he experienced in his life had given him as much pleasure as seeing her smile that moment.

They settled in doing everyday things—washing cars, grocery shopping, laundry. He liked occasionally finding her things mixed in with his. Nights were always at her place. It didn’t matter all that much to him, as long as he fell asleep and woke up with her next to him.

It did begin to bother him she wasn’t comfortable enough to spend any time at his place. The handful of times she’d come in, she stood by the door. He also noticed every new place they went she scoped it out, much as he did. Becoming aware of the exits. Preferring a restaurant table against the wall near an exit. Cautiously watching people come their way. He put it down to being a woman on her own, mindful of her safety. But there was something else he couldn’t nail.

His new mission was to change all that. Saturday morning on their way to breakfast then the beach, he made up an excuse to stop at his house. Between the time they left her place and got to his, it clouded over and was raining pretty good. The run from the truck to the house was enough to soak their heads and shoulders and he went to get towels. He returned to find Celia standing by the door, phone in hand, the screen turned for him to see.

“Rain all day. Guess we should check the weather before we plan to spend the day at the beach.”

“Yeah.” He handed her a towel.

He
had
checked. The Special Operators weather app predicted start and end times of rain with ninety-nine percent accuracy. He knew when the rain would start and how long it would continue. Basically for the next twenty-four hours.

Now, to make her comfortable enough to stay for the weekend.

“Come on.” He took her hand, drawing her through the living and dining rooms to the back of the house. She hadn’t seen this part. He said nothing, scrubbing the towel over his face and hair, letting her take it in. The entire back—which wasn’t all that much, since the house was small—was a combination kitchen family room. Two sets of glass sliding doors opened to a nice-sized deck he and his brothers built. The space was perfect for him and plenty big enough to entertain.

“This is nice,” she finally said.

“We can eat here. I’ve got plenty of food and I have the coffee you use, that Blue Horse stuff.” He tipped his head the direction of the window. “Unless you want to slog out in that.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “You have plenty of food? Let’s see.”

He opened both doors of the side by side. “I shopped after work yesterday.” Understatement. He’d bought everything he could remember she liked.

She came to stand beside him. “Might be easier to tell me what you don’t have,” she said, staring at the crammed shelves as cold air bathed them.

He laughed in relief. “Let’s see, there’s shrimp, steak, eggs. Tons of veggies. I have a waffle maker or, we can do pancakes. I make great cheesy grits.” She did a little shudder at that.

“What would you have if I wasn’t here?”

“Umm.”
He considered the contents a moment. “Waffles and ice cream. With strawberries.”

She squinted at him then grinned. “I fear for your mental and….” She looked back to the fridge. “Your physical health.”

“You want the same thing?”

She bobbled her head and laughed. “You betcha.”

He made the waffles while she made coffee and sliced the berries.

She watched him load a stack of waffles with ice cream and smiled. “I see today is a day you feel like eating ice cream.”

“You betcha.”

“This is awesome,” she said after her first bite. She sipped the Baileys-laced coffee. “This is even better.”

He glanced out to the deck where the hard rain splatted and bounced. “You want to hang out here or go back to your place?” He prayed she’d say hang out. She stared at him with a kind of fascination and was silent long enough for him to start thinking about where he’d left an umbrella.