Hunter's Pride

by Shiloh Walker

  Even if she hadn’t wanted to know more about the cats, coming back here, taking over the bookstore her adopted parents had given her, this had all seemed like the right choice. She’d been worried at first—worried everybody would look at her and remember.

  That seeing her old town would stir up memories of what had happened to her here, but it hadn’t.

  She had just felt like she was home, and the feeling only intensified the longer she was here. Now after nearly two months, Kennedy felt like she was home. She hadn’t felt like this since she had lived here with the Franklins.

  Could she leave?

  She just didn’t know. She didn’t want to.

  The longer she was here, the more obsessed she had become with learning about the cats. Could she stay here and ignore that burning need?

  Hours passed as she lay there. Did she stay—did she go? Who had that guy been? How had he known about the cats? What did she do now?

  All those questions circled endlessly through her mind and she had no more an answer by the time nine o’clock came and went then she had six hours earlier.

  The phone rang and she ignored it, reaching down and pulling the heavy down quilt over her head. After five rings, the answering machine came on and she heard Leslie’s concerned voice. Dismally, she told herself she should answer. Leslie was probably worried about her.

  But she just let the woman rattle on the machine and when the machine cut her off, Kennedy rolled over onto her other side and closed her eyes.

  Maybe things would make more sense if she got some sleep.

  Duncan muttered to himself as he turned down the long drive that led to Kennedy’s house. “This is a bad idea.”

  He’d been uneasy, restless, frustrated, ever since leaving here hours earlier. That was why he had gone by A Page Apart. He’d wanted to see Kennedy.

  But she hadn’t been there and Leslie had looked at him with beseeching eyes. “It’s just not like her to not call—she’s run late before, but she always called.”

  Duncan had replied, “She does own the place. Maybe she just wanted to sleep in a little. Kennedy knew you were going to be here, right?”

  Leslie just gave him that look and Duncan had sighed, already giving in.

  “I called her house, Duncan. Nobody answered.”

  Nothing was wrong. He told himself that, insisted she was just sleeping, even as he parked in front of the old farmhouse. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep. He hadn’t slept at all last night and work today was going to be a trial.

  He also knew if he didn’t check on Kennedy, the worry would eat at him all day and he’d be useless as hell.

  The first knock on the door went unanswered, but he could hear her faintly through the walls. Resting a hand on the glass window next to the door, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

  Sleeping…just like he’d thought. The slow, steady sound of her breath changed as he knocked a second time and he heard the increase in her heart rate as she woke up.

  He let his hand fall away from the window as he waited for her to answer the door. It took a minute, but he could hear the slow tread of her footsteps as she climbed from bed and moved towards the front of the house.

  She opened the door and Duncan started to smile, only to feel it fall from his face as a leaden weight settled in the pit of his belly. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her face was pale. Frowning, he studied her wan face for a moment before he said, “You look even worse than you did last week.”

  Kennedy just blinked at him, leaning against the doorjamb as she stared at him. She kept her ankle up off the floor and he glanced at it, noting that it was still swollen, still bruised. “I was in the store. Leslie said you hadn’t shown up, didn’t call. She was a little worried.”

  Kennedy pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m fine. I’ll call her here in a few minutes.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  Her pretty gray eyes stared sightlessly over his shoulder as she shrugged. “Tired. Just tired.”

  “You sure? Everything okay in there?”

  She smiled faintly. “Oh, everything is just peachy, Sheriff. You have a good day.”

  And just like that, she closed the door, dismissing him.

  Kennedy called Leslie, insisting she’d just had a bad night and overslept. No, she didn’t hear the phone ring, and she was sorry she had worried anybody. Yes, yes, she’d be fine, just needed a little more rest. Would things be okay at the store?

  After convincing Leslie she was fine, she hung up the phone and made her way slowly back to bed. Her right ankle was still sore and she had to brace her weight against the wall. By the time she got to bed, it was throbbing and she ended up bypassing the bed for the bathroom so she could wash down one of the pain pills she’d been prescribed before leaving the ER.

  Wearily, she went back to bed and pulled the covers over her face.

  She tumbled into sleep with the promise she’d start trying to think again after she’d rested.

  Chapter Five

  Between her sleepless night and the pain pill, Kennedy slept the day away. She opened her eyes to total darkness and experienced a weird dejà vu as she sat up. The events of the night before had infiltrated even her dreams and she had tossed and turned while that deep, sexy voice whispered to her.

  Now, as she sat on the edge of the bed, she realized that she wasn’t leaving.

  And she also wasn’t letting some nameless, faceless man make her quit.

  Shoving her tangled hair away from her face, she gripped the nightstand and slowly stood up, gingerly putting weight on her ankle. Still sore—but she figured she could make it through a shower and then she’d put the brace on.

  The hot spray of water helped wash the rest of the cobwebs from her mind and when she climbed out of the stall, she felt a lot clearer than she had felt since her mystery visit. After slicking her skin with lotion, she grabbed the ankle brace she kept on the back of the toilet and put it on.

  The support helped a lot and as she walked out of the bathroom, the pain was almost non-existent.

  “Turn off the light.”

  At the sound of that deep, gruff voice, Kennedy froze. Her eyes scanned the room and she found his shadow, standing by the window. He’d pulled the curtains and lowered the blinds—the only light came from the bathroom. But she stood right there. She sure as hell wasn’t ready to enter another conversation with him under the cloak of darkness.

  “No. What are you doing here? Didn’t we finish this conversation yesterday…or wait, that was this morning, wasn’t it?” she said, not caring that her voice sounded a little bitchy.

  She could feel him staring at her and her skin burned. Blood rushed to her cheeks and she folded her arms over her chest. The towel she had tucked around her suddenly felt far too thin, far too insubstantial.

  “I was right…” he murmured. “You look even better without the t-shirt.”

  Kennedy could feel the heat in his voice and it made her shiver, made her belly clenched with need. Sexual desire was something she’d spent most of her life shying away from. She wouldn’t deny it—what her stepfather had done to her had damaged something inside and she just didn’t know how to fix it. But more than that, she had never really felt compelled to fix it. The men in her past who had been attracted to her had never made her feel anything.

  But with this man…she was acutely aware of every inch of exposed skin, of the way the cool air felt on her flesh, of the rough timbre of his voice. His voice seemed a little deeper tonight, a little more raspy. Dragging her tongue over her lips, she clutched the towel a little tighter to her chest. “I’d like to put some clothes on,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.

  “Go ahead,” he offered softly. “I’ll even turn my back.”

  “Leave.”

  He chuckled. “You have a nice big walk-in closet over there. Walk in.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Kennedy muttered, “I really don’t li
ke you.”

  She heard him breathe in softly, then blow his breath back out. “I almost wish that was true…get dressed, Kennedy. I’m trying to be nice right now. It probably won’t last.”

  Kennedy glared in his direction before stalking across the room, well, half stalking. It was hard to do it effectively when her ankle was still half lame. She flicked on the light before closing the door tightly behind her.

  No damn lock on the door. Grabbing a pair of jeans from the shelf in front of her, Kennedy dragged them on over her still damp body.

  No underwear. All of that was in the dresser out in the bedroom. Worse…no bra. Kennedy hissed out a breath and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a white button down that was three sizes too big. Her fingers raced over the buttons, securing them from the neck all the way down before she rolled the long sleeves up until she could push them over her elbows.

  When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was the bathroom light. Off.

  “Turn that light off.”

  Kennedy crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

  He laughed and asked, “Are you going to stand there in the door way all night?”

  “No,” she replied, stripping the towel from her hair and combing her fingers through the damp strands. “Just until you leave.”

  “You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “Why don’t you tell me why in the hell you’re here now?” she asked tiredly, leaning against the doorjamb and relaxing her right leg so she could take some of the weight off her ankle.

  “Why don’t you sit down before that ankle starts hurting again?” he asked levelly.

  She glared at him but knew if she stayed on her feet too long, her ankle would start to swell, brace or no brace. And if the damned thing started to swell, the pain would come back. Hell, she had taken off three days because of her ankle and the days she had gone to work, she’d spent most of them in the office doing paperwork with her ankle propped up.

  She moved over to the large armchair that was in the corner just to her left. It was close to the closet—he wasn’t going to come that close to the light. But even before she had managed to get her ankle up on the matching ottoman, the light clicked off behind her.

  She froze, lifting her eyes and watching him as he moved to stand at the edge of the chair. Once more, the room was shrouded in darkness and she could see nothing more than the glitter of his eyes. How had he moved that fast…it hadn’t even taken him two seconds to cross her room, in utter silence, and turn off that light.

  With a weary sigh, she leaned her head back against the pillowed cushion. “Do you just really dislike light or is this all about keeping us from seeing each other?”

  He laughed, crouching down beside the chair. His hand came up and touched her cheek, unerringly. “I can see you just fine.”

  And she had no doubt of that.

  His thumb swept across her cheek in a slow motion. “You have the softest skin,” he mused. “And you smell so sweet.”

  At that moment, her mind seemed to just shut down. Her heart skittered in her chest and she sucked air in desperately. She could just barely make out the faint outline of his head as he moved closer. “I…uh…”

  But whatever she was going to say simply died as he closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his. Other than his hand cupping her cheek and his mouth on hers, he didn’t touch her. He traced his tongue along the lines of her lips, slowly, gently.

  Kennedy shivered, scared, unsure. He kept his movements slow and unhurried, not trying to do anything more than explore the contours of her mouth. Long moments passed as she sat there, frozen. She didn’t know what to do—her body, though…her body reacted slowly, a warmth starting to burn in the pit of her belly and spreading outward.

  Her pulse sped up as he traced his tongue over the seam of her lips. Slowly, she opened her mouth and felt his harsh intake of breath just before he slowly pushed inside. His hand shifted from her cheek to cup over the back of her neck, angling her head back.

  She groaned and arched closer to him as he started to kiss her deeper. Kennedy shifted on the chair, turning toward him. Slowly, she ran her hands up his arms, curling her fingers into the ridge of the muscle atop his shoulders.

  One big, warm hand curved around her hip as she tried to move closer to him. The heat of his body seemed to burn through the layers of clothing and she strained against him. He groaned and the sound of it rumbled against her chest as he tore his mouth away.

  “Damn it, Kennedy,” Duncan rasped, lowering his head to rest his brow on her shoulder for a second. He could feel her heart beat, slamming in her chest, against his own. The taste of her buzzed through his system, making his own heart race, heating his blood until he thought it was going to start to boil.

  He hadn’t lied when he said he could see her just fine—hell, he could see her too fine. The white shirt she’d pulled on covered her completely, but he could see the dark circles of her nipples as they pressed against the cotton.

  Her nails bit into his shoulders again, a sweet little pain that did nothing to clear the thick cloud that had enveloped his brain. Skimming hands up her arms, he closed his hands around her neck, his thumbs resting in the hollow there. “You’re going to drive me out of my mind,” he muttered.

  He used one hand to brush her hair back and lowered his head, raking his teeth lightly across her neck. She turned her head towards his as he lifted up and her mouth covered his again. He swallowed that soft, pleading moan even as the logical little voice in his head insisted he needed to stop.

  This time, when he tried to pull away, Kennedy came with him and he arched up against her as she came down to straddle his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. Now the aching flesh of his cock was pressing against her sex. Even through the tight, sturdy denim that covered him, he could feel her heat.

  And worse—he could smell her. The scent of hungry woman filled the air and it taunted the beast lurking so close under the surface. His hands clamped over her hips as she started to rock against him. Her tongue slowly trailed over his lips before pushing inside his mouth. Duncan bit down softly before sucking on her, pulling her in deeper. She pressed against him, her knees tightening around his hips.

  His control damned near shattered and he tore his mouth away, lifting his face to the ceiling as he panted for breath. “Kennedy—we have to stop this.”

  Her lips roamed over the skin of his neck, leaving burning trails of sensation. She made a soft little hum under her breath and when she spoke, her voice was thick, almost drugged sounding. “I like the way you taste.”

  The air was heavy with the scent of her hungry body and Duncan groaned, squeezing his eyes closed in a desperate attempt to find control again.

  It was a losing battle. If she wanted him to stop, he could have. He knew that.

  But the gentle, careful kiss he had given her had exploded into a hot, wicked desire that he was certain would burn them both. He reached up, threading his hands through her hair and forcing her to hold still. He knew she couldn’t see him. There was just the faintest light that penetrated the covered window and that was the only light in the room. She couldn’t see him—but she needed to listen.

  “Kennedy—just…stop for a second,” he demanded as she tried to lean into him once more. He couldn’t completely understand how this had gotten so out of control, but he’d be damned if he didn’t give her one more warning.

  “Listen, you know where this is heading, don’t you?” he said.

  Her hands roamed restlessly over his shoulders. Damn it, did she even hear him? he wondered.

  Gritting his teeth, Duncan stood up, keeping her locked against him. He pumped his hips between her thighs, making sure she felt the burning length of him. “You feel this, Kennedy?” He pivoted toward the bed and laid her down, coming down on top of her, preparing himself to move away if he sensed even the slightest bit of fear. She just arched against him, another one of those greedy lit
tle moans falling from her lips. He streaked a hand up her side, cupping her naked breast through the thin layer of cotton. Duncan rubbed his thumb over the pebbled flesh before he lowered his head and bit her gently. “Feel that?”

  She hissed, her hands cupping up to fist in his hair, clutching him to her. “You know where this is going?” he repeated, moving against the pull of her hands to whisper into her ear. “We keep this up for any longer and it’s going to be too late.”

  Kennedy turned her head, once more finding his mouth with unerring skill. “It’s already too late,” she whispered. “Please…I want to feel this.”

  Her hips rocked against him. Slowly, Duncan sat up, bracing one knee on either side of her hips. Reaching for the strip of buttons on her shirt, he opened them slowly, still staring at her face. Her eyes stared blindly up and Duncan wished he could turn the lights on.

  He wanted to see her in the golden glow of the sun, in the silvery light of the moon…and more, he wanted her to see him. As he finished unbuttoning her shirt, he levered his weight off of her and whispered, “Sit up.”

  She sat up slowly and he stripped the shirt off. “Pretty,” he whispered, trailing his fingers over the curve of one breast. He ran one finger down the center of her chest, circling around her navel before slipping his fingertips inside the waistband of her jeans.

  Kennedy lay back on her elbows, her eyes closing. The black banner of her hair spilled around her shoulders to curl in ribbons against the comforter. As he freed the button on her jeans, the smooth plain of her belly undulated in a shuddering breath. He kept his eyes on her face as he stripped her jeans away. Running his hands up the outside of her legs, he crouched back between her thighs, staring up at her face.

  “Don’t be afraid of me,” he muttered gruffly as he bent over her, using his hands to push her weight further across the bed so he could lie between her thighs. The ripe scent of her need called to him and he had to taste her.