Morgan's Hunter (35 page)

He stared at the dingy wall for several seconds as his words sunk in. This was it; tonight was it. He looked at Morgan, knew she thought the same thing.

A sense of urgency fell over him. Their gaze held as his mouth captured hers. He walked her backward until the back of her legs bumped the bed. He lifted her tank top over her head, pulled her boxers down. She stood in flossy white panties. When the scrap of silk pooled around her feet, he grabbed her legs, pulled them out from under her.

She landed with a bounce and a gasp. His tongue was in her heat before she finished taking another breath. She let out a long, loud cry as she came instantly. Hunter used his fingers, his mouth until her legs trembled. She called out for him mindlessly.

He crawled forward, lay on top of her. They rolled, reversing positions. Morgan straddled him—all flash, all fire—kissing him deep as her hands went wild on his body, touching, exploring.

Her lips moved to his neck, his chest, leaving opened-mouth kisses down his six-pack. Soft breasts rubbed against his skin with every frenzied movement, making him groan as he craved more. Her fingers grasped him—rock hard and ready—playing him as she stared into his eyes.

Her mouth replaced her busy hand. Hunter threw his head back, breath tearing from his lungs. He fisted his hands in her hair as she sent him to the edge, driving him crazy.

Morgan’s mouth journeyed up, capturing his as she took him in deep. She gasped as he let lose a rumble in his throat. She rode him hard and fast.

The scent of her hair surrounded him as soft brown locks cascaded around his face. The bold green of her eyes captivated, and he was lost in her rhythm, her beauty.

He dug his fingers into her hips as his breath came in ragged snatches. She grasped his hands, lacing their fingers, pulling them above his head—like he’d done the first time they were together.

Face close, eyes locked, she moaned, back arching, tensing, tightening around him. She cried out as she came, smiling in triumph.

“Morgan, Morgan,” he choked out as he panted. His hips jerked as he gasped and filled her. She collapsed to his chest and their hearts beat together.

He lay stunned with his arms wrapped around her back. It had never been like this. He’d had stellar sex before, but this was several notches into indescribable.

Minutes later, Morgan sat up on her elbows, looking down, and kissed him. “How was that? Better than Mrs. Bester’s dumplings?”

He smiled. “What dumplings?”

“Right answer.” She kissed him again. “I was starting to feel jealous of dough and gravy. I need a serious drink of water.” She climbed off. “Want one?”

“Sure.” Grinning, he watched her firm, sexy body disappear around the corner. The faucet turned on, plastic cups filled. Morgan came out holding two—one already half empty. “Here you go.”

Cheeks still rosy, she drank deep before pulling back the covers he wasn’t lying on and crawled in. “It’s getting chilly. It feels good to be in a bed.”

He handed her the cup; she set it on the side table. He got under the covers, looked at her. “Are you tired?”

“No, not really. Maybe there’s a movie on.” She picked up the remote, started flipping through the channels. It fell out of her hand when he playfully pounced on top of her, his eyes dancing with fun.

“It’s important for you to know that I’m a very competitive person. I feel like I was outdone a few minutes ago. It’s vital that I always come out on top.” He kissed her. “Let me rephrase and say it’s only vital that I come out on top competitively.”

She grinned, pressing her finger into the cleft of his chin. “I see.”

What started in fun ended with Morgan lying under him, trembling and gasping for air. “You win. You’re the reigning champion of amazing sex moves.”

Hunter smiled. “Just remember that.”

She lay pressed against him until they slept. They woke throughout the night, coming together over and over. The pearly light of dawn crept through the corner of the drawn drapes before fatigue took them under, clinging.

Chapter 29

M
ORGAN ROLLED OVER WHEN HUNTER swore.

“Shit, Morgan, get up. We slept in.”

She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Eleven-thirty.”

“
What
?” She shot up to sitting. “I’ve never slept this late—ever.”

Hunter, sleepy-eyed and smiling, skimmed his fingers down her arm. “If you don’t go to bed until sunrise, you sleep in. That’s how it works.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it sounds like you’ve had a lot of practice staying up ‘til dawn.” She tried playing things light as she pulled the covers back, but his cocky comment reminded her she was nothing special in the eyes of Hunter Phillips. There had been women before her; there would be plenty after.

Morgan stood and winced, her well-used muscles protesting.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Hunter snagged her arm, pulled her back down. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

Let it go, Morgan. Just get in the shower and let it go
. “Yeah, I know.” She met his gaze before staring down at wrinkled sheets.

“Hey.” His thumb skimmed her jaw, rested under her chin, lifting her face until their eyes met again. “I’ve been up until dawn a few times before, but it’s never been like this. It’s never meant anything. I-I care about you, Morgan. You mean something to me. You mean a lot.”

And that was the problem. She loved and he cared. Her stomach clenched, fisting with pain. “I know.” Because she knew he gave her all he could, she nodded, brushed her hand against his cheek, gave him a quick kiss. “This surprised both of us. I don’t think either of us planned on being here.”

“No, I certainly didn’t.” He caught her hand as it fell from his face, kissed her fingers before he let her go.

His tender gestures confused as much as they hurt. Unable to take anymore, she stood again. “I need to clean up. We’re running out of time.”

Their eyes met as her words hit home. Morgan walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower. As steam plumed above the curtain she stepped in. Warm water sluiced over her hair, down her body.

Not wasting any time, she dumped the sample bottle of shampoo and conditioner-in-one on her head, lathering the shampoo through her hair. Her muscles ached with every movement after hours of endless loving.

She’d never spent a night like that—so wrapped up in another. When he’d pulled her under him time and time again, she’d given him everything she had. She’d savored every brush of his body, every joining of lips, committing them to memory, fearful that each touch might be the last.

She washed the suds from her hair, wondering how it was possible for Hunter to feel so little when they brought each other such
heat
.

Physically, they were perfectly matched. Each time they’d been together, she’d been right there with him—thrust for thrust, beat for beat. Sexually, she had the power to bring him to his knees, and he was the only man who’d ever sent her over the edge with little more than a simmering look. No, sex definitely wasn’t their problem. It was emotion that set them so far apart. She loved in a way she never would again, and he
cared
.

In a matter of hours, Hunter would head back to Los Angeles and carry on as if nothing ever happened. Perhaps he’d give her a call, pass the time with an e-mail or two, but before long even that would fade into nothing.

Teetering on the cliff of despair, Morgan focused on the now. She unwrapped a small cake of soap, rubbed the bar over her skin. Tiny bubbles coursed down her body. She turned into the spray, washing the suds away.

Hunter pulled the shower curtain open and she jumped, her hand flying to her heart. “Damn it, Hunter.”

Without apology, he stepped in behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist. His lips, slippery from the water, moved along her neck. He spoke next to her ear. “One more time. I need to be with you one more time.”

Her heart raced as his muscled chest pressed against her back. Because this truly would be the last time, she gave into her need and his. Morgan turned her head, and he captured her mouth.

Hunter took the soap, rubbed it over her stomach, tracing patterns against her skin, making her quiver. Her lips never left his as his hands journeyed up, finding her breasts, making her nipples sensitive and slippery.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, enjoying the pulsing tug growing strong within her core. Stretching, she locked her arms around his neck, playing with his hair.

“Fast or slow?” he asked. His fingers skimmed her, moving in slow, steady circles until her legs trembled, threatening to buckle. Her hips moved in rhythm, urging him on as her ass rubbed against him, primed and ready.

Hunter nibbled her ear, each steady breath coming faster. “Answer me: fast or slow?”

She rested her head against his chest. “I can’t think.” She grabbed hold of any thought she could, never wanting the moment to end. “Slow. Go slow.”

His fingers worked her, pressing. The tug, the ache built until her arms vised around his neck, until her knees gave out. “I’m going… I’m going to… Oh, my God.” He entered her, thrusting hard, thrusting deep as the orgasm shattered her.

He moved, unhurried, as water pelted her stomach. He played with her breasts, sending her to a frenzied level she’d never experienced.

Hunter broke contact, turned her, pushed himself deep again before she had the chance to gasp. He hoisted her, pressing her back to the wall. She wrapped her legs tight, built again, sure she couldn’t take anymore.

Her fingers kneaded his shoulders as her whimpering moans built to long loud cries. She shut her eyes as the trembling took over, her head going limp against the wall, certain she’d die from the overload of pleasure.

Hunter’s grip tightened on her ass as his breath heaved. “Go over, Morgan. Go.”

With a violent pump he took her mouth, swallowing her screams as she orgasmed with such intensity she poured around him. He grunted, stiffening as she did, pressing her solidly to the wall with every powerful thrust.

Spent and shuddering, she held on, laying her head on his shoulder. Their gasps mingled as water, now cold, splashed against them.

She clung to him and he to her as Morgan lifted her head, staring into his eyes. She took his mouth, kissing him a silent goodbye. Tongues met as the tender moment stretched.

Morgan shivered and Hunter turned off the faucet with a snap. He brushed her lips once more, her forehead. “They’ll be here soon, Morgan. It’s time to get ready.”

There was no other choice. “Okay.”

With that, he set her down, held her hand, lingering, before he left her in the bathroom.

Comfortable in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, Hunter checked his watch. Forty-five minutes ‘til show time.

His brow rose when Morgan stepped from the bathroom dressed identically in jeans and a short sleeved white v-neck. Her damp hair dripped, leaving wet patches at her shoulders, reminding him of the way she’d gone wild in his arms just minutes before—that hot body of hers bucking against him as she came, calling his name. How long would it be before she forgot? How long would she wait before she let someone else touch her the way she’d let him?

His hand fisted at his side; he was making himself crazy. There wasn’t time for this now. He had two hours on the flight home and the rest of his life to torture himself with thoughts of Morgan and her lovers.

When her gaze met his, he gestured to his clothes, then hers, and she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Maybe I should change,” she said.

“I wouldn’t bother. You look good. I look better, so just leave it alone.”

Morgan chuckled as she walked to the bed. “That’s one of the things I like best about you, Hunter: your modesty.”

He grinned, relieved when the sadness vanished from her eyes. He glanced at his watch again as Morgan took a pen and paper from her bag. “We have about forty minutes. We need to get things separated and organized.” He picked up Morgan’s pack, dumped the contents in the center of the mattress, did the same with his own.

“What are you doing?”

“This’ll go faster if we do it this way. We don’t have time for one of your tidy little checklists. I have some of your stuff. You have some of mine, so let’s sort it out.” He tossed her things to one side of the bed, his to the other.

“Well, this is certainly one way to do it.” She followed his lead.

The massive heap quickly became two separate piles. Hunter picked up a small box of tampons. “Um, I can’t remember, do these belong to you or me?”

Morgan glanced up, snorted. “I’m pretty sure those are mine.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Grinning, Hunter tossed the package into her mountain of supplies. He grabbed the long-range radio next, cast it among her things. Snatching up the first aid kit next, his gaze returned to the radio.

Morgan had attempted to contact the ranger’s station the night before Robert found them. By some ‘strange fluke’, Robert and his two bastard cop friends just happened to roam the trail he and Morgan would most likely take on their trek from the Slough River. The coincidence was even more amazing since he and Morgan weren’t due back for several days.

Leaning across the bed, Hunter snagged the radio and sat down. He popped the back off. “Son of a bitch.” Among the soldering boards, wires, and batteries lay a tiny red rectangular box with an antenna on its top.

Frowning, Morgan sat next to him. “What is it?”