Seducing Hunter

by Cathie Linz

  “You pick up fast,” he noted with a smile of appreciation.

  “So do you,” she replied, for she’d no sooner turned to put the neatly folded quilt over the ladderback chair in the corner than he’d managed to undo the buttons on the back of her blouse.

  This time when he tumbled her onto the bed, she welcomed him with open arms. And as they made love she told herself that this was enough, that the words didn’t matter, the feeling did.

  “You’re not peeking, are you?” Hunter demanded as he slowly guided Gaylynn past a thick rhododendron bush. It was mid-May and the buds hadn’t blossomed yet, but when they did splashes of color would garnish this little-known walking path. He kept her pressed close, as if he were her shadow.

  “How can I peek when you’ve got your giant hands across my eyes?” Gaylynn retorted.

  “I only have one hand across your eyes,” Hunter reminded her. “The other one is guiding you.”

  Nominally, his outstretched hand rested on her shoulder, but every third step or so it would slide lower until his little finger rested on the curve of her breast.

  “I know where you’re guiding me, all right,” she retorted. “Down the garden path! Are we going to see any trillium erectum today?” she naughtily inquired.

  “Maybe. If you’re lucky. Okay, now are you ready?”

  “Umm,” she murmured. “And it feels like you are, too,” she noted saucily, wiggling her fanny against him.

  He paid her back by lowering his hand from her eyes to cup her breast. “There. What do you think?”

  “Mmm!” Keeping her eyes closed, she leaned her head back to rest on his chest. “Very nice!”

  Bending his head, he whispered in her ear. “I meant the view.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes snapped open. “Right.”

  The sound of rushing water had warned her that they were near a river. But only now did she realize that they were also in front of a waterfall bracketed by lush greenery. The sun glinted off the dancing water, creating sparkling threads of diamonds. Water leapt over the rocks with frothy abandonment before going over the sharp edge and falling with sheer exuberance. The trembling rush of sound made wonderful music.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “How did you find this place? I mean, it seems completely hidden away up here.”

  “It is. It’s my special place. I come here to get away from everything.”

  Gaylynn set down the picnic basket she’d been carrying before turning in his loose embrace to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “What was that for?” he asked against her mouth, even as he kept nibbling her lower lip.

  “Be bing be beer,” she mumbled back without removing her mouth from his.

  “Be bing be beer?” he repeated with a laugh.

  She leaned away to translate. “For bringing me here. I love it.” Her voice reflected her love for him, as well, a love she couldn’t say aloud for fear of driving him away. The past few weeks had been picture perfect, with Hunter spending every spare moment with her. His deputy, Charlie, had recovered completely from the gunshot wound in his foot and was able to resume his normal share of the work, which left Hunter with more time for Gaylynn.

  She’d scheduled her volunteer time at the library to coincide with his work hours, which left her free to take off with him whenever the opportunity arose. He’d even driven her along the Blue Ridge Parkway as he’d wanted to do from the first day she’d arrived. And she’d kissed him at every scenic pull-off, and the parkway had plenty of scenic pull-offs.

  Today the weather had turned quite hot and sultry, but here by the waterfall it was very pleasant. When Hunter had first told her that they’d be walking from his cabin to this secret picnic ground, she hadn’t been sure that the red shirt and lightweight denim skirt she wore were the proper attire for hiking. After all, the woods did have their share of poison ivy in them.

  She’d wanted to change clothes, but Hunter had assured her that the walk they’d be taking was dangerfree. “Aside from me,” he’d added with a lusty look at her bare legs. “And I may prove to be very dangerous indeed.”

  He was right. A simple look from him was dangerous, because it made her heart skip and her hopes take flight. This was their first picnic together. She felt like a teenager again.

  “M’lady…” Gallantly taking her hand, Hunter lowered her to the red-and-white checked tablecloth he’d set out on the sun-drenched top of a flat boulder.

  He’d brought plenty of finger food. Bite-size chunks of Swiss cheese and honey-cured ham. Grapes. Tiny corncobs. And oranges. Ah, the oranges! She’d never have guessed what a seductive use he’d put them to.

  She’d started out fascinated by the strength of his hands as he’d peeled away the outer rind. She sat in the open V of his legs, her back against his chest. He’d peeled the orange in front of her, his arms around her so that she could feel the movement of his muscles as he ripped the fruit’s outer flesh away to reveal the tender inner delicacy. Breaking it into segments, he brought a piece up to her mouth, inviting her to take a bite. She did. It was a very juicy orange. She found out just how juicy when he drizzled the dripping juice down her shirtfront by accident. Or so he claimed.

  “I’ll clean that up right away,” he promised her, shifting her so that she lay across his lap, resting against the crook of his arm. Bending his head, he licked the sweet juice from her warm skin in an erotic trail from her collarbone down to the slope of her breast.

  It proved to be such a delightful clean-up operation that he just had to drizzle more orange juice—drip by drip, lick by lick. Squeezing the orange slice, squeezing her breast in the palm of his hand.

  “I better get your shirt out of the way before it gets more juice on it,” he noted, expertly removing the article of clothing.

  She wore a lacy cotton tank top underneath, the stretchy material acting as her only bra. Hunter drew in a shaky breath. He could see the dusky areolas of her nipples through the lacework.

  He went to lift that final piece of lingerie out of his way, as well, but her hand on his wrist stopped him. “Anyone could see us out here!”

  “No one comes up here.” He grinned wickedly before adding, “Although I’m about to make sure that we both come. If you don’t feel comfortable right here, there is someplace else.”

  She scrambled to grab her shirt as he slid her off his lap and stood. “Leave the stuff here,” he said, taking her hand and hauling her up beside him. He kissed her, the forceful pressure declaring his fierce need for her. “Come on,” he growled, heading straight for the waterfall.

  “I can’t swim, just in case you were thinking of dunking me,” she warned him.

  “No dunking, no swimming, although there will be some submerging and mutual drowning going on. But in passion, not water. Be careful, the rock is wet and slippery here.” He kept his arm around her waist protectively.

  “Are there bears in there?”

  “No, but I hope to get you bare in here,” he growled.

  Seconds later they were in a hidden grotto behind the waterfall. The sound of the rushing water pounded through the air, almost deafening in its intensity. So, too, was desire pounding through Gaylynn’s body, almost deafening her in its intensity.

  She didn’t care that the grotto was small, that the air was damp and cool. His lips were enough to warm her, to start a fire that only his complete possession could put out. He guided her over to a wide rock formation at the back of the grotto. It elevated her to the perfect height for him. Sliding his hand behind her knee, he lifted her leg. Two long, wet, tongue-tangling kisses later, her full skirt was bunched up around her waist and her panties had miraculously disappeared. His jeans and underwear were lowered, allowing his arousal to spring free.

  The grotto wall at her back was slippery and cool, his body was hard and hot. Protection was taken care of and then, gripping her bent knee and lifting it once again so that she was positioned just right, he joined with her, the darkly
erotic probing extending his full possession as he slowly moved deeper—inch by joyous inch. The blunt tip, the throbbing thickness, more… more… then the complete width and breadth of him.

  “Ahh.” Her moan of pleasure was felt rather than heard by either one of them.

  He slid even farther into her.

  “Yes!”

  Buried in her welcoming depths, he kissed her, the thrust of his tongue mimicking each seductive thrust elsewhere. Starting out slowly, almost leisurely, Hunter rocked against her. Adding a twist here, a shift there. Rubbing against her with excruciating sureness. Withdrawing only to slide forward again, creating pleasure so intense it was almost painful.

  The life force of the waterfall tumultuously pounded in the background even as she tightened around him. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she panted his name as the first delicate shudders of ecstasy took hold—rippling, rolling, swelling—wave after wave cascading through her.

  She reached the apex, poised on the pinnacle of rapture when he thrust into her and stiffened in her arms. Hunter threw back his head and shouted. Then she was pitching over the other side, tumbling in a free fall from bliss.

  Afterward, mere words couldn’t express the enormity of what they’d just shared. Uncaring of the effect on her skirt, she sat down on the rock formation. He sat beside her.

  “Wow,” she whispered unsteadily. Her feelings were so intense, so laid-out-there-for-him-to-see that she instinctively tried to defuse the moment by using humor. “Come here often?” she wickedly asked him.

  “You’ve got a naughty mouth,” he replied appreciatively.

  Before they left the grotto, she showed him just how naughty her mouth could be.

  Whack! The sharp ax sliced another chunk of wood into halves. With every swing, the muscles along Hunter’s back and arms rippled in unison. Sitting on a stump nearby, Gaylynn had the best seat in the house.

  They’d returned from the sensual picnic at the waterfall a short while ago and Hunter had decided that he wanted to build a fire in the fireplace that night.

  “No one builds better fires than you,” she’d complimented him, nibbling on his earlobe the way he so often had on hers. She was delighted to discover that he was just as sensitive that way as she was.

  “Are you one of them fast city women tryin’ to lead a poor mountain boy astray?” he demanded in pretended moral outrage.

  “I’m doin’ mah best,” she drawled in an imperfect impersonation of a Southern belle.

  “Then here, take the picnic basket inside and bring me a drink while I chop us up some wood.”

  “Oh, yes, mountain man,” she said with mocking acquiescence. “Shall I make you a peanut-butter-andbanana sandwich while I’m in the kitchen?”

  “No, but a peanut-butter-and-ketchup one would be great about now.”

  “In your dreams,” she retorted as she marched up the steps to his cabin, making sure to add as much swing to her walk as possible. She noticed that her provocative action had not gone unnoticed by Hunter.

  He gave a long and loud wolf call followed by a whistle. “You’ve got legs like a Tennessee walkin’ horse,” he drawled.

  “Meaning what, that they’re short?” she demanded, being totally unfamiliar with equine anatomy.

  “Meaning they’re shapely.”

  “Oh. In that case, thank you kindly,” she said with a sassy smile and a seductive flip of her skirt.

  “Don’t forget that drink,” he reminded her. “And could you bring me a towel while you’re in there? A man could work up a proper sweat chopping wood.”

  She envisioned nothing proper about a shirtless, sweat-slickened Hunter.

  And now here she was, sitting front row center, watching him work. Every so often, he’d pause and take a cooling sip of the beer she’d brought out for him.

  She’d chosen lemonade for herself, figuring that ogling him would be intoxicating enough.

  Now, as Hunter leaned back his head to take a slow sip of beer straight from the can, she watched the ripple of his throat as he swallowed. His jeans hung low on his hips, displaying his muscular torso.

  Mine, she thought to herself with a wickedly feminine sense of power. All mine!

  But for how long? an inner voice niggled in her ear. Hunter never talked about the future. They’d shared moments more intimate than she’d ever dreamed possible. And not just physically, but emotionally, as well. And while there were moments when she thought she could read his every thought, there were many more times when he remained as much a mystery as ever.

  “Hey, coffee break is over,” she called out. “Back to work.”

  “Slave driver,” he grumbled as he crunched the empty aluminum can in one hand.

  “Show off,” she retorted fondly.

  Afterward, Gaylynn could never say exactly what went wrong. One moment Hunter was laughing at what she’d said, the next his ax slipped, slicing through denim and skin and gashing his thigh wide open.

  Ten

  Blood. It seemed to be everywhere!

  Gaylynn froze, paralyzed by a flashback of the TV news image—the sight of blood on the street plastered all over her TV screen. Duane’s blood. Staining the street. Proclaiming his death.

  But it was Hunter who was bleeding now.

  Instinctively touching the ribboned medallion she wore, Gaylynn gained strength from it. The panic instantly cleared and she knew what she had to do.

  Galvanized into action, Gaylynn rushed toward him, grabbing the thick towel from the front porch as she did so. Hunter, conscious but shaky, was pressing his hand to his thigh in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood. Gently shifting his hand, she placed the towel over the wound and applied a steady pressure. She needed to get him to a hospital fast.

  “Is there an ambulance or emergency medivac I can call?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Need to drive to Summerville. Hospital. there.”

  “Okay, that’s what we’re going to do, then. We’ll get to Summerville.”

  Slipping out of her blouse with one hand, while keeping her other hand pressed to the towel, she heard Hunter weakly mutter, “Much as I’d like to, I don’t think I’m up to fooling around right now.”

  Even now, he was trying to tease her. “Don’t talk,” she said. “Save your strength.”

  “Gonna pass out.” he warned her. And he did. She prayed it was because of the sight of all the blood and not because he’d lost so much of it. While he was out she wrapped her shirt around the towel, to hold it in place. Yanking the bandanna she wore in her hair, she used that to firmly tie the makeshift bandage in place.

  All the while she remained calm and confident as she did what had to be done. She’d taken first-aid classes; she knew what the drill was. No tourniquet, that would cut off circulation. Steady pressure was best.

  Hunter regained consciousness as she finished binding the wound. Now she needed to get him into his car, which thankfully was nearby. But even so, she needed his help getting him into the vehicle.

  “Hey, big guy, think you can stay awake long enough to stand up and mosey over to your car?”

  “Car keys front pocket.jeans.”

  Reaching into his pocket, she felt the warmth of his skin through the denim and was struck anew how much she loved him. She couldn’t bear seeing him hurt. “Got them.”

  Catching a glimpse of panic behind her bravado, Hunter apologized, “Sorry about this, Red.”

  “Hey, I’m not the one who passed out at the sight of a little blood,” she joked. “I’m a tough cookie, remember?” Spotting a long, stout branch in the woodpile, she hurriedly brought it over, grabbing his discarded shirt and slipping it on en route. “Do you think you can stand if you use this as a crutch?”

  “Sure thing.”

  It was tricky, but they managed. Draping his arm around her shoulders, she propped him up, using more strength than she thought she had. She’d had the foresight to open the back door of the car before they’d started, so all Hu
nter had to do was sink onto the back seat and she took care of the rest, carefully easing his leg onto the bench seat as he reclined against the opposite door. Kneeling on the floor mat, she positioned his leg as best she could, fastening a seat belt around his hip to keep him in place should he pass out again.

  Gravel flew from the tires as she backed his sheriff’s car out of the driveway, turning around in front of his cabin before heading on down the mountain as quickly as she could without making the ride too bumpy for him. Driving with one hand, she used her other hand to activate the cellular phone she had in her purse, calling Floyd at the base of the hill.

  “Where’s the nearest hospital, Floyd?”

  “Over in Summerville. Why?”

  “I need help. Is Boone there?”

  “No, he took Stella and Ma Battle shopping over in Summerville. He won’t be back until later. What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”

  “Not me, it’s Hunter. I’m driving down now—we should be at your place in about ten minutes. I’m going to need you to drive Hunter’s car while I’m in the back with him, applying pressure to the wound on his leg.”

  “I’ll be outside ready and waiting,” Floyd promised. “Don’t you worry none. I’ll get us over to Summerville in a jiffy.”

  Gaylynn was worried plenty. There was so much that could go wrong. “Call the hospital and tell them we’re coming in, okay?”

  “Will do.”

  As promised, Floyd was waiting outside, wearing a pair of Coke-bottle glasses. “I hate wearing the doggone things,” he grumbled, “but I figured I’d better be able to see. These glasses sure do make a mighty big difference,” he noted as he hopped into the car, taking the place behind the steering wheel that Gaylynn had just vacated. The second she was in the back seat, kneeling on the floor, Floyd said, “Now which of these here switches starts the sirens. ah, there it is. I always wanted to drive me one of these po-leeese cars,” he noted with excitement as he drove onto the road.

  “I’m mighty obliged to you, Hunter, for giving me the opportunity. Shame that you had to get hurt to do it, though. No offense, Hunter,” he assured him, turning his head over his shoulder to give him a quick look. “I didn’t mean it that way.”