Hunter's Need (36 page)

All sorts of little details he needed to take care of, things he’d planned on doing today, but time got away from him. Getting the Jeep had been the most important, followed by some calls back to Excelsior to help with other technicalities.

He and Ana were going to need a bigger place—one away from Carter Hoskins, preferably—the guy still set Duke’s teeth on edge, even though it wasn’t anything other than possessiveness.

Getting a house required all sorts of information, paperwork, a work history, credit history . . . all sorts of shit.

All of it had been previously arranged and in a few days, he would be ready to do the next thing. He’d already found a place—at least he thought so. He had to make sure Ana liked it, too. Realistically, he knew it might not be as easy as all of that, but he’d cross that road when he came to it.

For now, all he could think about was how perfect she’d look in that house.

Aside from the house, the Jeep, getting the wheels in motion to settle down here, there was another important matter that had taken up half of his afternoon—notifying the police about the bodies he sensed buried in Palmer. That had taken a little bit more doing, and in the end, he’d settled on another call back to Excelsior. Let them handle taking care of the anonymous tip. Duke didn’t have so much as a laptop up here and he wasn’t sending it from Ana’s, either. Not considering the stuff the cops could do with technology these days.

Too much of the day gone, though. Nearly four o’clock. It had been an hour since he’d tried calling Ana at home—no answer, just like the other four times he’d called. He’d called her cell three times and each time, it had gone into voice mail.

He loped up the steps and used his spare key to unlock it. It was quiet. Distantly, he could hear Ana, her breathing slow and steady. Sleeping? Frowning, he crossed the floor and paused by the counter. Her cell phone was there, turned off. A red, digital
5
flashed at him from the cordless phone.

Dropping his keys on the counter, he headed down the hall.

She was sleeping, all right, curled up in a ball with her back away from the door. He paused in the doorway, uncertain if he should wake her or not. If she was that tired, maybe he should just be nice and let her sleep. They could always talk later, right?

Screw being nice.

Silently, he slipped out of his shoes, jeans and T-shirt. She could sleep. That was fine. But she’d do it while he was there with her. He circled around the bed and slipped under the blanket, stretching his length out next to her. His heart froze in his chest as he caught sight of her face. Her eyes were red and puffy—had she been crying?

He forgot about his intentions to let her rest. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lip. “Ana?”

Still sleeping, she sighed, a soft, shuddery whisper of sound. She rubbed her cheek against his palm. Her breath caught, hitched in her throat.

For reasons he didn’t really understand, his heart started to ache. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers. “Ana.”

She murmured his name against his mouth.

Duke lifted a hand and rested on her thigh, easing it up over her hip, then to her waist. He rested it there, on that soft curve and kissed her again. “Ana.”

 

 

S
HE was dreaming.

Ana knew she was dreaming.

She also knew she didn’t want to wake up. Duke was here, in her dreams, lying next to her and his long, warm body managed to chase the chill from hers. If she woke up, he’d be gone, she’d be alone and cold.

So logic dictated she just not wake up. At least not yet. Not until she had to.

But dream-Duke seemed to want her awake. He kept whispering her name and kissing her, soft, teasing little kisses. “Wake up, princess.”

“Don’t wanna,” she muttered truculently.

He laughed and whispered, “Why not? Come on, Ana . . . open your eyes.”

He wouldn’t quit. Her logic made perfect sense to her. If she woke up, he’d disappear. But he didn’t seem to get the point and kept nagging her, and nagging her . . .

Then he slid a hand up and cupped her breast. Sighing against his lips, she arched into his touch. That was better. Definitely better. Dream sex was better than waking up, any day of the week.

She reached for him, her fingertips grazing over the hard, naked muscles of his chest, the sculpted lines of his belly. He groaned as she closed her hand around his cock, then he rolled on top of her, kissing her hard and quick.

“You going to wake up?”

“Make love to me,” she whispered, refusing to listen to him talking about waking up. She’d have to wake up sooner or later, no reason to do it now.

“Not until you wake up,” he muttered, his voice a harsh, rough growl.

His lips covered hers and she opened for him, but he didn’t have a soft, seductive kiss in mind. Not even a deep, demanding one. He didn’t kiss her at all. He bit her lip, hard enough to sting and the shock of it had her eyes flying open.

The dream fell apart around her and she could have cried—but then her eyes focused and she saw Duke above her, his sandy hair falling into his face as he stared down at her.

“Duke?”

He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. “You sound surprised . . . were you expecting somebody else?” But he kissed her before she could answer, kissed her—and pushed inside, driving deep until he’d buried every last inch of his throbbing length inside her.

When he would have lifted up to look at her again, she locked her arms around his neck. Clinging to him, desperate. Kissing him, starving.

Not a dream
. That was all Ana could think.
Not a dream—he hadn’t left
.

She didn’t know what that meant, except maybe he just hadn’t gotten tired of her yet. But she wasn’t going to think about that—not when she had those big, hard hands gliding over her body, cupping her hip, her bottom, palming her breasts. Not when he kissed her, those deep, hot kisses that made her feel as though he wanted to gorge on her taste. Not when he moved above her, riding her, pushing her higher . . . and higher . . .

Tears burned, slipped out from under her closed eyes. She didn’t care. He lifted his head, made a rumbling sound deep in his chest—a wordless question. Then he kissed her tears away, catching them with his lips.

“My Ana,” he whispered. “Mine . . . ”

“Yours.”
For as long as you want me . . .
before she could say those words out loud, she pressed her lips to his. “Kiss me, Duke.”

Warm hands, strong and calloused, stroked her body, fisting in her hair and arching her head back as he pressed kiss after ravenous kiss to her mouth. Gliding down her side, palming her ass and canting her hips higher, taking her deep, but so slow. So slow . . .

She raked her nails down his back and arched, grinding her hips against his.

“Such a hurry,” he teased.

Ana stared at him from under her lashes, watching him as she clenched down around him, milking his length with her inner muscles. Duke groaned and arched his back, shuddering.

She did it again.

He swore.

Again and again.

He growled.

Again.

He slammed into her. Hard and fast, shafting her, riding her, possessing her. Ana whimpered his name, then screamed it. He slid a hand between them and pinched her clit, then stroked it, teasing the little bud of flesh. Her breath froze in her chest—she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.

The orgasm ripped through her, starting in her womb and rippling outward, spreading through her, filling her. Then Duke buried his face against her neck. She wailed out his name, just as he whispered—

Her brain didn’t process what he’d said right away. Hard to think when the body was all but wracked with pleasure. But as she drifted back down to earth, the words started bouncing off of each other, back and back, rattling around until finally they connected and made sense.

As he rolled off of her body, she went stiff. He settled on his back but when he reached for her, she jerked back and scrambled down to the foot of the bed. Once she had a few feet between them, she settled back on the mattress and drew her knees to her chest. She licked her lips—her mouth, how had her mouth gotten so dry?

“What did you say?”

Duke stared at her, his lids low over his eyes. “Huh?”

Ana scowled at him. “What did you say to me?”

The muscles in his torso shifted as he pushed up onto his elbows. “I didn’t quite plan for it to come out like that.”

Her heart sank to her knees. Fighting not to cry, she slipped out of the bed and grabbed her T-shirt from the floor.

Duke watched her. She could feel it as he tracked her every last move. When he slid out of the bed, she sensed him approaching even though she couldn’t hear him. Only seconds before he went to put his hands on her shoulders, she stiffened because she knew it was coming.

“You don’t have anything to say?” he whispered, brushing a kiss over her shoulder.

She gave him what she hoped was a casual smile. “There’s nothing to say. People say stupid things all the time and they don’t mean any of them. Don’t worry—I’m not going to hold you to it.”

“Stupid things,” he repeated.

“Hmmm.” She eased up from under his hands and headed to her dresser. She needed a shower. Needed a drink. Needed to get him out of her house before she broke.

But Duke wasn’t too interested in letting her put any distance between them. Even as she tried to slip away, he caged her up against the dresser. “People say stupid things they don’t mean,” he said, echoing her words.

“Yes. Don’t worry about it. Look, I’ve had a rough day. I’m tired, I’ve got a headache and I need a shower.”

Her words had no effect. He leaned into her, pinning her body between his and the dresser at her back. “What about words they do mean?”

Ana froze in place. He dipped his head and nipped her chin.
Words they do mean
—This was too damn cruel.

He continued to stare at her expectantly, but she didn’t know what he wanted to hear from her, what he wanted her to say, what he wanted her to do. He caught a stray lock of hair and brushed it back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “What’s wrong, Ana? Why do you look so scared?”

“I’m not scared,” she said. And she didn’t lie. She
wasn’t
lying. She wasn’t scared—he didn’t mean it, so what was there to be scared of?

“Then what’s wrong?” Duke asked, getting frustrated. He hadn’t meant just to blurt it out like that, but he wasn’t going to take it back or apologize. He didn’t see the point. She felt something, a whole hell of a lot of something, if he trusted what his gut said when she looked at him.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said as she untangled herself from his arms. “It’s just been a crazy couple of weeks, and the past few days, they’ve just been insane. I’m tired. I’m ready to relax. I’m ready to get back to my life.”

“Is that why you were crying earlier?”

She went stiff and under that deep, insightful gaze, she felt the rush of blood rising to her cheeks. “Why do you think I was crying?”

He reached out, trailed a finger over her eyes. “Maybe I’m psychic,” he teased. He slid his arms around her waist and drew her close. “Why were you crying?”

She swallowed, searching desperately for something that would explain the tears, something that wasn’t truth, but wasn’t lie, either. If she lied, he’d know. “Maybe things are just catching up to me,” she hedged.

But he didn’t buy it. “That’s why you were lying in here, crying and not answering the phone all day? I kept trying to call.”

“You did?” Startled, she looked at him.

He frowned down at her. “Of course I did.” His eyes narrowed on her face.

“I . . . I thought you were—”
Shut up. Deal with it when it happens.

“Thought I was what?” he demanded.

Twisting out of his arms, she said, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Duke.”

“No, I think I will worry about it. You thought I was what?”

Gone
. She squirmed in his arms and pressed against his chest. “Damn it, Duke. What does it matter?”

But he wasn’t going to let it go, no more than he was going to let
her
go. He kept her locked against his body, and considering how he had his hips wedged against hers, she could tell that her wiggling around wasn’t leaving him unaffected. Her belly clenched at the warmth of his cock as it cuddled against her belly and she tried not to shudder in reaction.

“It matters,” he murmured. His voice went low and rough as he added, “I think it matters a lot.”

Ana swallowed the knot in her throat. Lowering her gaze, she stared at his chest. “I thought you were gone, okay?”

“Gone.” He threaded a hand in her hair and tugged, angling her head back so that their gazes met. “You mean—gone. Like leaving-on-a-jet-plane kind of gone, don’t you?”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah.” She blew out a breath and said, “Gone as in gone. You happy now?”

“You actually think I could leave without so much as saying good-bye? Wait—don’t answer that.” He let go of her and took a step back. “Get dressed.”

Ana blinked, a little thrown by the abrupt change. One second she was pressed up against his warm body, even as he stared at her in disbelief. Then she was cold and alone. “Get dressed?”

“Yeah.” He flicked a glance at her that encompassed her from the bottom of her bare feet up to her neck. “Unless of course you feel like going outside naked. Then we’ll have problems because if a guy so much as looks at you, I’m gutting him.”

“Duke, what—?”

“Get dressed.”

 

 

S
HE really thought he could just leave, Duke thought, alone in the living room.

Shaken, he rubbed his hands over his face and tried to figure out what in the hell was going on inside her head. She’d spent the day crying . . . because she thought he wasn’t coming back?