by Anna Lowe
The song on the phonograph kicked in with a slow, soft island tune from the thirties. One of those happy, ukulele tunes with just enough of a beat to it that their bodies started to sway.
“On a little bamboo bridge,” Dawn whispered.
He took a deep breath, relishing the press of her chest against his. Her hands rubbed up and down his back, waking every nerve, and it was all he could do not to grind his hips against hers.
They circled slowly, taking tiny steps in time with the tune.
“Hunter,” she whispered, slowly raising her face to his.
Her eyes were bottomless pools of black that shone like pearls, and her lips moved.
Kiss her, his bear prompted.
Slowly, giving her every chance to protest, he lowered his chin. But she didn’t pull away. She drew nearer. A moment later, their lips met, and little zips of lightning raced through his veins.
Heaven. Just like that, Hunter was transported to heaven. Dawn’s lips danced over his. Every move she made, he mirrored, from the slide of her hand along his ribs to the upward pull of her lips. Her mouth cracked open, and his did, too, letting her taste him. She broke away long enough to grab a deep breath, then dove back in, sweeping her tongue over his teeth. Her hips swiveled against his, and the scent of arousal spiked, rising above the scent of gardenia wafting in from outside.
He nearly groaned. In fact, he did groan, and his knees buckled slightly, making his groin bump her hip. That set off a whole different brushfire in his body, and he had no choice but to tip his head up toward the ceiling and count to ten.
“No good?” she whispered.
He shook his head immediately. “Really good. Just trying not to rush this.”
She laughed, making his bear cheer. “Well, we do only have…” She checked her watch. “Two and a half hours.” Her voice was light and playful, but a second later, it grew grave. “Listen. I really want this, Hunter. I want you. But I don’t know… I mean, I’m not sure how far… I mean…”
He caught her hands and pressed them to his chest, anchoring her there. “We stop the second you want to. We go as far as you want, but no further.”
Her cheeks flushed. The music hit a flirty high note, then went back to its gentle swing.
Dawn swung, too, her hips moving with unmistakable need against his. But while her body seemed all in, she was still hesitant. It showed in her dilated eyes, in the way her mouth opened and closed.
“I’ve never actually… I mean, I feel ready, but part of me…” She kept starting and stopping, not making any sense.
He held her gently by the shoulders and searched her eyes.
She pulled in a deep breath. “I’ve never been with a man before.” For a second, she stood there, apprehensive of his reaction. “I mean, I’ve never slept with anyone.”
He couldn’t help but gape at her. Dawn was a virgin? No way. A woman that confident, that beautiful must have had sex with someone somewhere along the line — or so he’d assumed.
Then it hit him. That bastard football player back in high school. Had he left Dawn with scars that deep?
I told you we should have killed him on the spot, his bear grumbled.
He closed his eyes, remembering it all. The unsettled, itchy sensation that had him backtrack to the shed at the end of the school fields. The nauseating scene he discovered when he flung the door open and found that ass of a quarterback, Clive, lying over Dawn, tearing at her clothes. Her small fists had been pummeling Clive’s back with no effect, and she’d worn a look of sheer terror. When Hunter flung Clive across the shed and pulled Dawn to her feet, she shook all over and tears streaked down her face.
Hunter always figured fate had guided him to Dawn just in the nick of time, but maybe he’d been a little too late. That rat bastard, Clive, had done damage of a different kind. Clive had stolen one of life’s purest pleasures from Dawn, and that wasn’t right.
God, she was tough, never letting on as to how deeply she’d been scarred. And shit, what an asshole he was for assuming she’d simply put the brutal memories behind her.
“We can stop. We can—”
Dawn shook her head vehemently. “I want this, Hunter. I really do. But I think I might have to rush this part. To get over the hump. You know…”
No, he didn’t know, but hell. He’d do anything she wanted, even if that meant stopping cold.
“I need to… I need…” She searched for words then muttered, “Aw, hell,” and dove back into a kiss. A kiss so out of the blue, she ended up pressing him against the wall. Her hands were everywhere — on his chest, his waist, his back — and all he could do was prop his hands on her shoulders and let her go.
Her kiss grew harder, hungrier. She pulled his shirttail out of his pants to touch his skin. He held his breath as her soft hands traveled over his chest, caressing him the way he longed to caress her. But he couldn’t. Dawn needed to take the lead, and he had to follow.
Even if it kills me, his bear agreed, clenching its teeth.
Her hands loosened his tie and fluttered over the buttons of his shirt. She couldn’t quite work them open, so he took over while her hands slid down a long, sensual trail and tucked into the back pockets of his pants.
“Good idea,” she murmured between kisses as he worked the buttons down for her. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, pushing the shirt back.
They were definitely out of time with the scratchy tune on the Victrola, but Hunter couldn’t have cared less. When Dawn got to work on her own shirt, all he could do was watch as she revealed more and more of the creamy skin at her neckline, then the edge of her bra. It was white and a little frilly at the edge, a hidden hint of feminine that contrasted with her uniform.
“What are you looking at, mister?” she teased with false bravado, working the rest of the buttons down.
Looking at the woman I love, he nearly said. An amazing woman who hides her fears — and her desires.
“Looking at the real you,” he murmured.
“You think you know the real me?”
For years, he’d assumed he had. Now, he wasn’t so sure. But damn, would he love to devote years to understanding what made her tick.
He tilted his head from side to side. “I’d like to find out.”
Her lips tightened. “What if you don’t like what you find?” Her eyes dimmed as if she had a dark secret. But hell — he had plenty of his own. Secrets and scars he’d like to drag out and erase with her help, one by one.
But not tonight. Tonight was about taking the next step.
Sex! his bear cheered.
No, sex wasn’t the next step. Not in and of itself. Building trust was, and he needed that as badly as Dawn did.
No sex? his bear cried, confused.
Yes, sex. Well, hopefully. Just don’t get it mixed up with what really counts.
Sure. Fine. Whatever, his bear muttered. He sniffed deeply, getting high on her scent.
“You mean you’re not perfect?” he said, answering her question at last.
Dawn scoffed. “Far from.”
“Good,” he murmured, pushing the shirt over her shoulders. “Then I won’t feel completely outclassed.”
She looked shocked, as if she’d never really stopped to consider what a class act she was, and he chuckled, tossing the garment aside. Then he caught her hands and guided them back to his chest, dying for her to touch him again.
I’m dying to touch her, his bear groaned, because there she was, the woman of his dreams, wearing nothing but a nicely filled bra, right in front of his eyes. Her chest heaved, teasing him.
Go slow, he told his bear.
He looped his hands behind her neck and gently worked her hair out of its braid. The long, black strands were just as silky as they were in his dreams, and he finger-combed them again and again.
Nice, his bear mumbled. Nice.
Her eyebrow arched in a question, and he nodded. Yes, he’d been dreaming of doing that for years.
; His bear fast-forwarded to a scene several years down the line in which Dawn came home from work, flopped wearily on the love seat, and let him finger-comb her hair. How was your day? he’d ask, massaging her shoulders. And he’d be the happiest man on earth because he got to be the one to hear her out, each and every day.
He cleared his throat and put the brakes on before he got ahead of himself — way ahead of himself. With one shaky finger, he guided back the strands that had fallen in front of her face. Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Dawn met him eagerly, whimpering into the kiss and inching her hands toward his slacks. She hesitated at the waistline then reached lower, palming his cock through the fabric.
Hunter tipped his head back and surged forward on the balls of his feet, letting the pressure build. He flattened his hands on the wall on either side of her head — careful not to cage Dawn in, but to steady himself. To hang on to that little bit of self-control.
She splayed her fingers and stroked, making him groan. Then slowly, gingerly, she lowered his fly and snaked her hand in. Her eyes went wide, and there it was again — that sense of hesitation, that dichotomy of holding back when she really wanted to dive in. Finally, she gripped him fully and mumbled something unintelligible into the kiss.
Hunter jerked forward and back, rocking on his heels. He could have closed his eyes and continued until he came in her hand, but he forced himself to stop. This wasn’t about physical pleasure. This was about bonding with his mate.
He opened his eyes slowly, afraid that the aroused glow might frighten Dawn. But she met his eyes easily and tipped up her chin.
“Touch me,” she whispered, pulling his hands toward her breasts.
Hunter bit his lip, telling himself to go slow, but Dawn’s eyes flashed.
“Don’t,” she said, making him stop cold.
He steeled every muscle and stopped instantly. Shit, this was it. She’d changed her mind.
Dawn shook her head and shaped his hands into cups under her breasts. “I mean, don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.”
Chapter Ten
For a woman with a compulsive need to maintain control, Dawn decided she was doing a pretty good job of letting go. Or maybe it was Hunter making her feel so secure, she forgot to be afraid. She forgot to care that the record had reached its end, leaving the needle to travel in endless circles, around and around. She forgot about everything but the burning need in her soul.
What you need is someone to shake you out of that carefully controlled cage you live in.
Someone like Hunter.
Without love, you don’t live. Lily’s words had never seemed truer than now.
She could sense the power and raw need in Hunter, and yet his huge hands were gentle — so gentle, she wanted to yowl and beg for more. Hunter was nothing like the pawing, panting man she’d once fought off. And when he touched the hypersensitive skin of her breasts, she groaned.
“So good…”
He pressed closer and started kissing her ear while massaging her breasts — circular motions around the sides mixed with little flicks of his thumbs over the front. She writhed under his touch, squeezing closer to him.
“Please, Hunter. Take it off,” she murmured as his hands played over her bra.
He did so with the look of a museumgoer studying a new masterpiece. In the end, she was the one who yanked the fabric off her shoulders and tossed it to the side. Hunter’s breath caught, but he touched her again, and the next swipe of his coarse thumbs was exactly the ecstasy she thought it would be.
“So good,” she murmured, again and again.
For years, she’d avoided intimacy. How could she trust any man after her near-rape? And worse, how could she satisfy the man she loved if she couldn’t stand the thought of being touched?
It was a curse. Her body craved sex as much as any other woman’s, but it repelled the urge at the same time.
Until now. Now, she was hungry. Starving. And absolutely, totally sure that with Hunter, sex would be an act of beauty instead of a crime.
When she ran her hands along his hard abs and wrapped a leg around his side, he groaned and went still. His cock jutted against her belly through the fabric of his boxers, and his breath came a little faster.
“You’re sure, right?” he croaked.
Holy hell, was she sure. This was so much more than she’d ever dreamed it would be. She had always figured sex meant a woman giving up control to a man, but Hunter ceded all power to her. That incredible, animal power pulsing under his skin wasn’t an offensive weapon she ought to fear. It was pure defense, only brought into action to protect her.
She gulped. Hunter had gone to war to protect his country. And now all he wanted, it seemed, was to protect her. Even completely aroused, he was holding back, unwilling to push her too far.
She pushed his pants farther down and fisted his cock. The more Hunter held back, the more confidence she gained. She could do this. She could enjoy a man’s touch. Well, at least this man’s touch. It set her free.
He closed his eyes and groaned her name. Half a step to the right was the entrance to her bedroom, and she considered the threshold quietly. Stepping over it with Hunter represented much more than just a physical step. Was she really ready for that?
Yes, her body cried. Yes, please.
“Hunter,” she whispered, helping him shuck his pants and boxers before taking off her own bra. Then she pulled him through the bedroom door. When they crossed the invisible line, she exhaled. No panic, no nightmarish images from the past. Just Hunter, caressing her skin.
She stepped backward until her calves bumped the bed, where she slowly lay back. Hunter followed, his wide shoulders blocking her view of most of the room. He came down on all fours over her, and for one awful, out-of-the-blue moment, her body locked up, bringing her back to the past. But when Hunter murmured her name and nuzzled her chin gently, the panic disappeared. His beard was ridiculously soft, tickling her skin. When she giggled in relief, he popped up to look at her.
“What?”
She tugged him back into place and nuzzled back. “I like that.”
“Good,” he rumbled, kissing and nuzzling his way to her left ear then the right. Then he started working his way down her body, one inch at a time.
Dawn went from sighs of pleasure to cries of delight, and she arched her back. Was that shifter magic at work or was it just his close-cropped beard and incredibly soft lips, driving her wild?
His chin continued on its sensual path, scraping over her belly then along her right thigh.
“This okay?” he murmured, letting his hands whisper over her skin.
Her knees flopped open, answering before she could get out a word. She clutched the sheets and nodded, keeping her eyes shut tight.
Please, don’t let me ruin this now. Please, no nightmares, she begged.
If her libido had its own voice, it would have scoffed. This is Hunter. He’s incapable of making me feel anything but good.
He did make her feel good, especially when his hands swept slowly between her legs. The more he nuzzled her thighs and hip, the more heat pooled between her legs. She was so slick, his fingers slid right through her folds, and her knees split wider.
“Oh… Yes…” she moaned, aching for more.
He probed deeper, and Dawn closed her eyes, remembering all the lonely, heated nights when she’d resorted to touching herself. It had always helped, but wow — having Hunter touch her was exponentially better. His fingers dipped in and out of her, making her pant and writhe.
When she tilted her head back, Hunter moved back up her body, working her breasts with his lips while his hand stayed tucked between her legs, moving faster all the time. His cock was hard and high against her hip, and a drop of moisture formed.
“So good…” she moaned. “Hunter, please.” She wrapped her leg around his, trying to get him aligned. She was ready. So, so ready.
He hesitated long enough to make her open her eyes.
/> “What?”
“I don’t have a condom,” he rasped.
She laughed out loud and rolled to the bedside table while he looked on in surprise.
“Yes, I have condoms. Wishful thinking, believe me,” she explained, handing him the unopened package. A few months earlier, when her dreams involving Hunter had gone from sweet to sultry, she’d purchased the condoms, hoping that would help break down her mental barriers until someday…
She gulped, watching Hunter open the package. Someday had finally arrived.
As he unrolled it over himself, her eyes went wide. When she dipped a hand down to help, he seemed to double in girth. Was he really going to fit inside her?
Hunter touched her again, coating himself with her moisture.
“Slow,” she whispered.
No — fast! the cat-in-heat part of her body screamed. Fast and hard.
Hunter came down over her, his knees between hers. With his left hand, he guided his cock through her folds. She thought he was doing that for his own pleasure, but the way he groaned under his breath made her realize he was holding back. Controlling himself.
The moment she realized it, a switch flipped inside her. Control sucked. Control was a crutch for the timid, and she was not afraid. Not anymore. Not of Hunter.
The next time his cock dragged over her entrance, she bucked up, enveloping him.
Hunter jerked to a stop, but she grabbed his shoulders and pulled with her legs. “Now, Hunter. I need you so much.”
One huge bicep flexed beside her as he slowly lowered himself, plunging deeper. The inner push hurt, but it felt good, too, and she moved her lips in silent cries.
“More,” she begged.
Hunter pulled back a tiny bit before nudging deeper again. His head came down beside hers, and his shoulders shook from sheer strain.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a choked voice.
A shot of pure appreciation filled her body, erasing any pain. What further proof did she need of this man’s willingness to put her above himself?
“I’m good. God, am I good,” she managed.
He pushed deeper still, filling her with heat. Moving faster as she grew slicker inside. At one point, she winced at a tear of sudden pain, but after that, it was pure pleasure. Hunter pulled back then pushed back in, making her toss her head back and moan. When he started pumping in and out of her, her body moved instinctively, matching his rhythm. Her garbled cries filled the room, but she didn’t care one bit.