Seducing Hunter

by Cathie Linz

  “Do you still love thunderstorms like you did as a kid?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “My father used to tell me that thunder was the sound of God snoring.”

  Hunter just nodded, distracted as he was by the sight of her daintily licking a bit of peach syrup from her upper lip. She’d missed a spot. His self-discipline, which had been stretched to the limit all night, suddenly snapped.

  Unable to resist a second longer, he reached out to wipe his index finger across the delicate curve of her lip. A moment later his mouth replaced his finger as he tenderly, yet fiercely, claimed her as his. The kiss was part possession, part pure passion.

  Gaylynn welcomed his demands and returned them in equal measure. All the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this were far outweighed by all the reasons why she should. This felt so right, perfect, meant-to-be.

  The anticipation was building as the distant thunder rolled closer. Closer, too, rolled his fingers—over the curve of her breasts until he brushed his thumb across one rosy crest. She arched her back in excitement. Before she knew what had happened, with one smooth move he had her laid out on the couch.

  Now they were pressed together from shoulder to thigh. The hunger continued to build and with it the need to be closer still. His tie was dispatched with first. The buttons on her dress came next. His prowling fingers then focused their attention on the front fastener of her lacy bra. Her gasp of undisguised pleasure coincided with the first brush of his fingertips against her now bare breasts. He caressed her gently, almost reverently at first.

  Without further urging, her nipples hardened for him. Her response seemed to fascinate him, for he focused his attention on their rosy nubs, lowering his head to tease her with the wet tip of his tongue, before closing his lips around her. The sweet suction was nearly her undoing.

  Imbedding her fingers in his thick hair, she pressed him to her. Ribbons of hot desire uncurled deep within her womb.

  Something sharp dug into her back, so sharp there was no ignoring it. “Ouch!” she exclaimed.

  Hunter immediately pulled her upright. “What’s wrong?”

  Looking over her shoulder, she yanked at the offending item with one hand, while trying to hold her clothing in place with the other. “It’s a stupid pin. I guess it must have been left over from when I redid the couch cushion.” She felt like an idiot. “Nothing like having a pin burst your bubble, huh?” she muttered, her hair falling over her face and shielding her expression from his view.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Things are definitely still all pumped up,” he assured her with a naughty grin. “Feel.” Gently taking her hand in his, he pressed it against his arousal.

  “Hunter, make love to me,” she whispered as he kissed her again.

  He paused, leaning far enough away to gaze into her eyes. “Are you sure that’s what you want? This isn’t just gratitude or something…”

  “Why should I feel grateful to you?” she huskily demanded in between seductive kisses along the stubborn line of his jaw. “All you’ve done is get me all hot and bothered and then not done anything about it.”

  With that, he tugged her off the couch and up into his arms.

  Shrieking in surprise, she put her arms around his neck. Her dress was still open, her bra undone, leaving her breasts bare as she rubbed against his chest.

  “Is that more romantic for you?” he asked. This time his smile was downright wolfish as he carried her into the bedroom.

  The storm had sent the cats scampering from her bed to the dark safety of the closet, where they’d hid the last time there had been a storm like this.

  Actually, there had never been a storm like this—the one raging inside of Gaylynn was unparalleled, proving to her that Hunter was the only man for her, the one she’d been waiting for all her life.

  As he set her in the middle of the bed, Gaylynn remembered the package of latex condoms sitting bold-as-brass on the bedside table. Brett had sent them by overnight priority mail along with a note:

  Your brother would probably shoot me if he knew I was sending these to you, but Lonesome Gap sounds small and I didn’t think you’d want to shop there for these. Remember, if you need to talk, I’m right at the other end of the phone.

  Bessie probably would have had a heart attack had she known what was in the priority package she’d handed Gaylynn the day before.

  As it was, Gaylynn was the one having a heart attack as Hunter stroked the palm of his hand from her shoulder to her navel. Her clothes, aside from her panties, were now gone—how had that happened? All that remained was the warmth of his skin against hers. She loved the feel of his hands on her. There was nothing like it, no words to explain it. Delicious. Better than anything she’d ever experienced before.

  She wondered if touching him would feel as good. It did. She relished the freedom to explore, feeling as if she’d unlocked a treasure chest of wonders. The long indention of his spine, the curve of his shoulder, the contour of every muscle, the hard resilience of his flesh beneath her hands—all these filled her with awe. And raw excitement.

  His shirt and slacks had gone the way of her dress, melting away, like the mists that flowed across the mountains. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning flashed through the white priscilla curtains she’d made to cover the window.

  The lights in the living room went out, plunging the cabin into total darkness aside from the frequent flashes of lightning, but Gaylynn barely noticed because now nothing separated them. He trailed his hand over her hip, down her thigh, back up again before dipping into her. Just a butterfly-light probing to start. Seeing and feeling her pleasure, he increased his teasing seduction. One finger, then two, rubbing, pressing, sliding—driving her wild with yearning.

  “Do you know the real danger in a storm like this?” he whispered in her ear, taking the time to nibble on her earlobe in between every third word.

  “No, what?”

  “Live wires.” He moved against her, showing her exactly what he meant.

  “Really?” She took him in her hand, stroking his throbbing hardness with her loving fingers.

  “Very live wires,” he growled, reaching over to grab the box of condoms.

  The moment he was sheathed, she murmured, “I know where you can plug that in.” She reached for him and guided him to the moist entrance aching for him. “Right here.yes. oh!”

  Their eyes met as his body merged with hers. He came into her with one powerful thrust, too late realizing the virginal barrier there.

  She flinched at the brief moment of burning discomfort.

  Hunter froze, his entire body rigid.

  She could see the stunned disbelief on his face.

  “Don’t stop now,” she whispered, lifting her hips when he would have withdrawn.

  He would have asked questions but his mind wasn’t functioning. Her tightness surrounding him had shortcircuited his brain, leaving him on the brink of prematurely climaxing.

  Drawing forth every ounce of willpower, he slowly moved within her, watching her face for any further sign of discomfort. Instead, he saw dawning realization, anticipation, increasing pleasure.

  Using every ounce of skill and care at his command, Hunter tried to make it good for her. He lasted as long as he could. Unable to hold out any longer, he reached down to where they were joined, seeking the sensitive nub hidden in her nest of curls. Brushing it with his thumb, he watched and felt her reach her climax. The flush of color on her face, the wide-eyed look of passion, her dainty breathless scream gave him a thrilling sense of fulfillment even before he reached his own matching satisfaction.

  “Shh, you’ll wake him up.”

  After all that had happened the night before, Hunter couldn’t believe he’d fallen asleep.

  He’d fully intended to talk to Gaylynn last night after they’d made love, but somehow, while trying to think of the right thing to say to her, he’d closed his eyes for a few minutes. The next thing he knew, it was morning.

  Gra
nted, he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately, what with the extra hours he’d been putting in at work, but still.

  “Don’t jump on him,” Hunter heard Gaylynn caution.

  A second later eight pounds of Siamese cat landed on top of him. Since he was lying on his back, Cleo came dangerously close to emasculating him as she dug in her claws through the top sheet in some feline show of revenge.

  He jackknifed to an upright position, which did dislodge the cat but not before she used him as a launching pad, all twenty of her claws out.

  “You scared her,” Gaylynn chastised him as Cleo went shooting past her into the living room.

  “Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual,” he growled.

  Mutual feeling. Was that what they’d shared last night? she wondered. She knew she loved him. But his feelings for her were still something of a mystery to her. Had it just been physical desire on his part?

  “We need to talk,” he muttered, watching her with brooding eyes.

  “Okay,” she said agreeably, sitting on the edge of the bed while she nibbled on a piece of rye bread toast slathered with apple butter.

  He started by saying, “Why didn’t you tell me. Why haven’t you ever. ?”

  “Celibacy is in, haven’t you heard?” she replied, shooting him a bold grin.

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Believe me, there are a lot more of us virgins around these days.”

  “Well, there’s one less virgin around today.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, munching on another bite of toast. “Are you hungry?”

  Looking at her made him hungry all right, but not for food.

  When he didn’t answer her question, she sighed and said, “Look, my birthday is only a month away. Maybe I just decided that I didn’t want to be a thirtyyear-old virgin.”

  Hunter was not amused. “I don’t believe you. You’re not the kind of woman to share something like this with a man you don’t. love.”

  The look on his face was not that of a man in love, a man who planned on spending the rest of his life with her, a man bent on marriage. The look on his face was that of a man with regrets. He said, “If I’d known you were a. that is, that you hadn’t…”

  “The word is virgin,” she supplied in exasperation.

  “Where do you think this. relationship…is going?” he abruptly demanded.

  “Where do you think it’s going?” she countered.

  “No place,” he replied. “I mean, you’ll be going back to Chicago soon and I’ll be staying here.”

  “Right,” she said, even though it felt wrong. Very wrong. She and Hunter were meant to be together. But she couldn’t hit the man over the head with her declaration of love and make him return her feelings. But she could make sure he had no regrets about what they’d shared last night. And she’d do or say whatever it took to make sure that their lovemaking was not a one-time occurrence. “Look, let’s not complicate this any more than necessary, okay? No pressure. We’ll just enjoy each other’s company while we can.”

  “Enjoy how?” he asked, wanting further clarification. “Like we did last night?”

  She nodded, refusing to look away from the direct challenge in his eyes. “What do you say? Deal?” She held out her hand.

  To her relief, he shook it. “Deal.”

  But even as Hunter agreed, his inner feelings remained in a turmoil. He knew he felt more than just passion for Gaylynn, but was it love? Who could tell?

  And then there was the undeniable fact that he was hardly a prize for a woman like Gaylynn—the smartest woman he’d ever known, someone who’d traveled around the world. His ex-wife had barely graduated from high school and she’d never left the city of Chicago until he’d brought her down to Lonesome Gap, a godforsaken flea-bitten hellhole, as she’d called it on her better days.

  Granted, Gaylynn seemed to get a kick out of his little hometown; she thought it was quaint. For now. But that would eventually wear off, it always did with newcomers. They ended up moving someplace not so far off the beaten path, a town that was up-and-coming rather than one struggling to stay alive.

  He could see that Gaylynn was rapidly recovering from the attack that had sent her fleeing to the sanctuary of these mountains. He’d been right when he’d thought that her condition of uncertainty and fear was only a temporary one, a natural reaction to the trauma she’d gone through. But already her inherent courage was returning. He could see it increasing every day. Hell, the fact that she’d taken it upon herself to seduce him was proof of that.

  Not that he needed much seducing; he’d been fighting his feelings for her for some time now. Even so, Hunter was still sure that nothing would stop her from returning to her old life in Chicago. She’d just said so herself. He’d asked if she would be going back to her old life, and she’d said yes.

  Gaylynn watched the shadows flickering in Hunter’s deep-set green eyes and wished she could do something to erase them. She didn’t want him feeling badly about what had happened. She’d had her eyes wide open when she’d started out last night. She hadn’t been naive enough to think that after they made love he’d fall to his knees and propose to her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. This was all so new and fresh, she didn’t want to risk losing the happiness she had by examining it too closely.

  Her fingers curled around his, reminding him that he was still holding on to her hand after their handshake of a minute ago. He couldn’t resist tugging her back down on top of him and kissing the apple butter from her lips.

  When she was lying beside him, he murmured, “You have the most incredible eyes.”

  “They’re just brown.”

  He shook his head in disagreement. “Dark, liquid eyes are incredibly sexy, don’t you know that?”

  “I’m rather partial to green eyes myself,” she admitted. She was so close to him that she could see the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his skin.

  “How partial?” he asked, a devilish light entered his eyes.

  “Why don’t you let me show you.”

  “Where do you want me to put this one?” Boone asked Gaylynn as he carried yet another box of books into the library building. First, he’d had to step over Bo Regard, who’d taken to hanging out—or visiting, as the locals called it—on the threshold of the library.

  “Let me just open the lid and see what we’ve got here.” Gaylynn replied.

  “These are from the Rues’ basement,” Boone added, as if that might give her a hint of where, the books should go.

  “Ah, these are the fiction hardcovers. Set the box down over near Stella there and she can unpack them and put therm on the shelf.”

  Boone looked more than happy to comply with Gaylynn’s request.

  “I ain’t seen anyone move that fast since Floyd was chased up a tree by a bear at the age of ten. Floyd was ten, not the bear,” Ma Battle felt the need to clarify. She was helping Gaylynn organize all the boxes of books that had been delivered so far, as well as make the important decision of where to place the card catalog. “Makes a body wonder if Stella Rue being such an attractive girl didn’t hurry Boone along some.”

  Seeing the star-struck look on the young man’s face, Gaylynn couldn’t help wondering the same thing. Stella Rue had come in near the tail end of the clean-up operation on the Saturday before and had volunteered to help out where she could. She was a soft-spoken girl, with lots of freckles and a gentle manner. Gaylynn had liked her right away. So had Boone.

  “No good can come of it,” Ma Battle said.

  “Why’s that?” Gaylynn asked.

  “Because Boone’s mama was a Montgomery, that’s why.”

  “But his last name is Twitty.”

  “Because his daddy was a Twitty. But his mama was a Montgomery.”

  “Surely you don’t approve of this ongoing feud, do you?” Gaylynn asked the older woman.

  “I try not to take sides,” she replied. “And you’d be best to do the same. Neither family is known for their
quiet nature.”

  “What are they known for?”

  “For their great moonshine. But that was in the old days. Making fine whiskey was a fine art in those times,” she noted fondly, “but now it’s a lost art.”

  “Why is that?”

  “There are easier jobs to be had these days. I’m not saying moonshining has completely died out—there may be an odd one here or there—but the appreciation of moonshining for the quality of the product itself is a thing of the past.”

  “You sound. as if you’re speaking with some authority.”

  “I should. My granddaddy was one of the best moonshiners in the state. He used to bide the cases of moonshine in the load of corn he’d haul to the city. Truth was, there was lots more moonshine than ears of corn in his truck. Prohibition was in force at the time, making the demand for good whiskey real high.”

  “Did he ever get caught?”

  “No. But getting caught is what started the feud be. tween the Rues and the Montgomeries.”

  “So I heard,” Gaylynn said. “But that was so long ago. Boone doesn’t seem to be holding on to any ill feeling toward Stella even though she is a Rue.”

  “Boone’s thinking with his heart instead of his head. Bessie and Floyd would have a fit if they knew which way the wind was blowing.”

  As the week progressed, the “wind” blew more and more in the direction of Boone and Stella being in the painful throes of young love.

  Gaylynn knew because she recognized all the signs, being in the midst of them herself. Not that Hunter had ever looked at her with such a gaze of star-struck awe, although he’d come pretty close that night she’d sprayed a can of whipped cream all over his body and proceeded to lick it off. Yes, he had indeed appeared to be awed. So was she—by the power of her love for Hunter, which grew every moment of every day.

  Even now, on a Saturday afternoon, surrounded by half a dozen kids, she still had a hard time keeping her mind off Hunter. The man was downright addictive!

  “Teacher, which story are you gonna read us?” one of the children asked, tugging on the skirt of her lilac dress. The cotton knit was easy to clean and one she’d worn often to school back in Chicago. It made for a nice change from all the jeans and T-shirts she’d been wearing lately.