Morgan's Hunter (24 page)

“You should’ve told me.”

“I just did. What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have one. You shouldn’t be using the radio, that’s all.” He thought quickly. “The guards at the mine have one. They might be able to pick up our frequency.”

“Oh God, I didn’t think of that. All I got was static. I don’t think anyone heard anything.”

“I’m sure everything’s fine.” He hoped. “Just tell me before you want do something like that.”

“Fine.” She walked away, bent down, unzipped the tent and crawled in.

“Chili’s ready,” Hunter called over his shoulder.

No response. He hadn’t heard a peep from Morgan for several minutes. Curious, he got up, wandered over to the tent, peered through the black-mesh top he’d left open for ventilation.

Morgan lay on her side, asleep, with her towel still snug and knotted at her breasts. His first thought was to wake her; he decided against it—she needed to rest more than she needed to eat.

Hunter turned to leave when the gouge on the heel of her hand caught his attention. He winced, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he bent closer to examine the deep, purple bruising surrounding the ugly looking gash.

“Ouch, that looks nasty,” he muttered.

He would help her clean it when she woke up.

The stars winked in the sky as Morgan opened her eyes. Cricket songs echoed in the night as the stream rushed over rocks creating a musical tinkle. She could just make out Hunter’s profile from the light of the half moon. His chest rose and fell with each strong, steady breath.

She sat up and her towel loosened around her breasts. She tucked it tight again, pulled back the sleeping bag Hunter must’ve covered her with. The movement caused her injured hand to throb.

Skimming her hand along the bottom of the tent, she tried to find the small flashlight she knew they kept between their beds. Her fingertips made contact with the cool metal handle. She grabbed hold, put it under her sleeping bag, hoping to have enough light to see but not wake Hunter.

Blinking, squinting from the dim glow, she examined her palm. It had been bandaged with gauze and medical tape. He’d cleaned it too. When she moved her fingers her palm stung like fire. How had she slept through that?

Morgan kept the flashlight on while she pushed forward, grabbing the tank top folded at the foot of her makeshift bed. The zipper slid down with her movements and she jumped as Hunter sprang up to sitting, reaching for his gun.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was going to put on the clothes you laid out for me.”

Hunter squinted, took a deep breath, scrubbed his hands over his face. “It’s all right,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

Morgan pushed forward again, lost her balance, caught herself with her sore hand. “Ouch!”

Hunter took her by the wrist, grabbed the flashlight from her sleeping bag. His knuckles brushed her leg, and she suppressed a shiver. He put the handle in his mouth, shined the light down on the gauze, spread her palm flat with both of his hands.

Morgan tried to tug free as pain radiated through her palm in time with her heartbeat. “Hey, be nice. That hurts.”

Hunter took in the illuminated wound. “That’s a nasty little cut you’ve got. It doesn’t look red or swollen around the bandage, so I don’t think we have to worry about infection. We just have to keep it clean.”

Her brow winged up. “I’m pretty sure it’s never been cleaner. Did you leave any antiseptic in the bottle or just dump it all on tonight? It stings like crazy.”

Hunter grinned. “I only used what I needed. There’s plenty left for tomorrow.”

Morgan rolled her eyes, smiled as she pulled her hand away. “Great.”

Hunter turned on the LED lantern, shut off the flashlight. “Here, why don’t you get dressed. It’s cold out.”

They both reached forward, grabbing for Morgan’s shirt. Her head connected with Hunter’s chin.

He pulled back, rubbing his chin, swore. “I know you have a hard head but Christ, Morgan.”

She laughed. “Oh stop. It’s not that bad.”

He continued to massage the sore spot, scowled. “It is from where I’m sitting.”

She picked up the flashlight lying on his sleeping bag, shined the beam in his face.

Hunter squinted, blocking the glare with a hand. “What are you doing, besides blinding me?”

Morgan leaned forward. “I’m just making sure I don’t need to perform emergency surgery. A bump to the chin can be a life threatening injury.”

Hunter reached for the flashlight she kept moving out of reach. When he finally grabbed it, he gave her a playful shove. “Smart ass.”

She fell back laughing while he grinned. Her hair clouded around her face as she looked up at him.

Hunter’s smile disappeared. Her laughter quieted as she watched his eyes travel down her towel-clad body.

Morgan sat up for her shirt, staring, paralyzed, by his gaze. The anger and disdain she saw last time weren’t here tonight. Her heart stuttered as she recognized hot, needy desire and wanted.

Hunter grabbed the front of her towel, pulled her to him. Their breath mingled before he took her mouth. A moan of surrender escaped her throat as he put his hands on her face, changing angles, deepening the kiss. Morgan got to her knees, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling them closer, desperate to feel his body against hers.

He drew her back, looking into her eyes, tugged the towel from her. She quivered when his big hand lazily caressed her body from the valley of her breasts to just above her center, making her shudder. His hand came back, stopping short of her ribs.

“I want you, Morgan.” He put his arm around her waist, moved her until she sat on his lap.

She felt him, hard and ready, through his navy blue shorts. With her lips a whisper from his, she smiled, wrapped her legs around his waist. “Then take me.”

Hunter groaned as his firm lips captured hers; their tongues danced and tangled. He got to his knees with her legs still around him, laid her on his sleeping bag.

She sighed as he brushed kisses along the soft skin of her neck, moved to her sensitive collarbone, nibbled the side of her breast, making her whimper as his feathered touches set off a storm of need.

His fingertips whispered over her nipples. She sucked in a breath as the teasing sensations drove her mad. Hunter’s blue eyes, darker in the moonlight, stared into hers as she put her hands on top of his, pressing his callused palms over her breasts. “Touch me, Hunter. Touch me.”

He moved her hands, continued with his caresses. “I’m taking my time. I’m going to make you as crazy as you’ve been making me.”

Goose bumps covered her skin as she shivered from his strained promise.

Hunter skimmed his knuckles up and down the sides of her waist until she gasped. He showered her with hot, moist kisses from the velvety underside of her breasts, stopping at her belly button. She trembled as sensations built deep, desperate for release. “Please, Hunter.”

He walked his fingers down her hips; his mouth followed, grazing her with his teeth, making her moan. He ran his tongue along her firm inner thighs, stopping short of fulfillment.

She gasped when she felt his warm breath against her center, his lips a brush over her skin, teasing. More. She needed more. Just a little more pressure to send her flying. Her fingers were wild in his hair, gripping, pushing him forward, urging him to finish her. Her hips moved back and forth, waiting, waiting.

Her eyes snapped open, looking into his, as he made his way up her body, leaving her frenzied, unfulfilled, ready to implode. He smiled, smugly, perfectly aware, before he took her mouth again. She kissed him back, wild with need.

Her palms ran over his smooth, sculpted back, found their way into his shorts, over his muscled butt. He groaned, closed his eyes as her clever fingers skimmed his hips, wrapped around him.

He rested his forehead on hers, stared into her eyes as she pleasured him, moving her hands up and down, listening to Hunter’s shuddering breaths, feeling him clutch at her hair, enjoying his surrender.

She pulled his shorts down his legs, eager for the heat, craving the ultimate connection. “Be inside me. I can’t take it anymore.”

He kissed her again, spread her legs, lay between them. Morgan felt him hard against her, just inches from where she wanted him. She moved her hips, desperate to have him inside. The orgasm needing release built until she could hardly bear it.

“Not yet.” He took her breasts in his mouth, tortuously teasing her nipples to hard, sensitized points. Her hands fisted at her sides as her breath came in ragged gasps. Hunter moved further down, spreading her legs wide. His eyes locked with hers as he touched her with the tip of his tongue. The slight flick of moist pressure sent her into ecstasy.

She threw her head back, cried out, as the power of the orgasm ripped through her system. She built again, shattering as his tongue stroked, as his fingers moved in and out. She came again, mindlessly calling his name.

Hunter brushed his lips along her skin, taking his time on the way back up. His fingers laced with hers as he pulled her hands over her head, kissing her deeply. “Look at me, Morgan.”

Her eyelids fluttered open and he entered her slowly. She gasped as he hissed out a breath, wrapping her legs around him once again as he started to pump. Closing her eyes, she whimpered helplessly as another orgasm built.

His lips feathered over hers. “Look at me,” he repeated, demanding against her mouth. “I’m going to watch you go over this time.”

She cried out, her green eyes going wide, her fingers tensing on his, when she pulsed around him, her legs and arms spasming from the intensity of the climax.

Hunter pulled his hands from hers, brushed them through her hair, looked into her eyes. He let out deep, ragged breaths as his stomach muscles contracted and he groaned long and deep. His mouth covered hers as he filled her.

They were still until their gasps for air turned to steady breathing. Hunter lay inside her as her legs stayed locked around his waist. Morgan combed her hand through his hair while the weight of his head rested against her shoulder.

She’d never experienced anything so intense in her life. Good sex, even great sex, wasn’t new to her, but this was a whole different level of amazing. Hunter had moves—they were killer, but it was more than that.

Perhaps the experience had been so powerful because love had never entered the picture before. She’d teetered a time or two, but not like this, never like this. This was so strong, so vital, so…consuming.

When did it happen? The first time he drove up on his Harley? When he’d kissed her cross-eyed in the clearing by the southwest trail? It had been there—somewhere—hovering among the harsh words that passed so easily between them.

She’d pushed it away, shoving at the troublesome emotions, always denying she could be in love, but it always circled back. When she thought she’d lost him to a bullet hours before, it crept back, snuck back, until it knocked her flat.

Hunter raised his head from her shoulder, looked down. “You okay?”

She smiled. “I almost had a heart attack, but yeah, I’m fine.”

He grinned. “You’re spectacular.” He brushed her lips as he started to move.

She tightened her legs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m moving so I don’t crush you.”

He turned over and lay on his back in the sleeping bag. He grabbed the thick fabric, covering himself as she pulled herself against him and cuddled in. Her head rested upon his shoulder as the front of her body pressed to his side.

His hand hesitated before settling at her waist. Morgan smiled, pretending she hadn’t seen him pause.

He smiled again, but something was different. She studied him when he closed his eyes.

She ran her hand down his arm, back up, playing with the puckered bumps on his shoulder. “How’d you get the scars?”

He opened his eyes. “On-the-job injury.”

Her fingers wandered to his firm bicep, traced his tattoo. “What does it mean?”

Hunter stiffened. He picked up her hand, moved it to his chest. “Nothing. It’s just a tattoo.”

Morgan continued examining the ornate cross. “It really is a work of art. It has a date. What event in your life did you deem important enough to permanently ink into your arm?”