by RC Boldt
When I trace my fingers along the grooves of his flat abdominals, he sucks in a ragged breath, gaze flaming with lust. Those dark eyes impale me, holding an intense yearning that causes my heartbeat to stutter.
His large hands grip the top of my towel, his fingers nudging the edge I’ve tucked in, and he pulls it loose with agonizing slowness. When it drops to the floor, his eyes drift over my exposed flesh as if my body is a mesmerizing sight.
Nostrils flaring slightly, his eyes hold a trace of something indecipherable while they trace along the old knife wound and skim over my other bruises. My fingers twitch with the urge to cover myself, but his gaze grows hotter, more molten. Instead of being turned off by my numerous imperfections, it emboldens me.
This man handles me like I’m a priceless and fragile artifact, his touch so gentle and caring. Hands that have taken countless lives—far more than I have or could ever imagine—touch me with breathtaking reverence. Eyes that can appear so cold and emotionless now flare with something hot and possessive when I press my bare chest to his.
His palm grips the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, to guide my mouth to his. Our lips collide in a kiss that holds a tinge of desperation, hard and insistent, tasting deeply.
I tug impatiently at his pants, and he quickly takes over, tearing his mouth from mine and eliciting a whimper from me at the loss of contact. Once he’s bare, he lets out a low hiss when I reach for his cock where it juts out between us, so thick and hard, the slit in the flared head weeping with a drop of moisture.
The desperate need to taste him assails me. When I wrap my fingers around his rigid length, stroking the velvety smooth skin beneath my palm, he lets out a low groan, cupping the back of my head before his mouth crashes down on mine. His kiss incinerates me from within, causing a shudder of arousal to travel the length of my spine.
With tender consideration, he eases back and carefully guides me onto the bed. His eyes shine with concern and what a deep recess of my heart thinks might be affection. But right now, I don’t want him to treat me with kid gloves. I want all of him. Now that we’ve bared our pasts, I don’t want anything to come between us.
I cup the side of his face as he leans over me, braced on his forearms. He leans into my touch instinctively, it seems, before he freezes. It’s as though he’s so conditioned to not give in to anything related to emotion or personal connections.
Our eyes collide. “I want you,” I whisper.
I desperately hope that he understands what I’m not saying. That I want him—all of him. The parts of him that are The Hunter and any that might linger from Andrew. I don’t want him to hide from me, and I don’t want to feel the need to hide from him. With every ounce of my being, I crave to be the one person he can let go with. To have him trust me to keep him safe.
Somehow, this man has reached inside me to grasp at something I thought was long since dead and withered away. Whatever it might be deep within me that yearns for him, it’s something I can’t ignore. When I’m with him and he touches me, I ignite like never before.
He turns his head to press his lips to the center of my palm in a light kiss before nipping gently at a fingertip. Then he draws it into his mouth, sucking hard before releasing it with a faint pop. Leaning down, his hot breath washes over me as he murmurs, “I’ve got to have you.”
His words hold an edge of desperation and blatant hunger, and they curl around me, acting like a scorching layer of heat providing relief after being trapped in the bitter cold. When he smooths back a few stray strands of hair from my face so tenderly, his eyes tracing the movement as if memorizing it, something dangerous twists inside me.
“Then have me,” I whisper raggedly, barely getting the words out before his mouth captures mine. As fast as it begins, he slows it down just as quickly. The kiss turns more languid, as though he has all the time in the world to nip at my lips in a lazy rhythm.
Every taste, every stroke of his tongue, every glide of his lips on mine feel as if my chest cracks open further, revealing itself to him. Simultaneously, I feel as though, piece by piece, he’s laying himself bare and allowing me to see all of him.
We’ve endured bitter betrayal which left the deepest scars embedded in our flesh and our hearts pilfering into ash. But when we come together like this, we forge into molten fire. Together we become something dangerous yet compelling. Something so hot you don’t dare touch it for fear of incineration.
He tears his lips from mine and wraps his fingers around the base of his thick shaft. Guiding the blunt head to my entrance, he drags it through my wet folds, nudging my sensitive clit.
Dark eyes flick up briefly before returning to the erotic sight between us. “Fuck, Kate.” His voice is hoarse, gravelly. “Love how wet you’re making my cock.”
I whimper as fiery-hot arousal strums through my veins. He traces another path through my slick folds with the tip of his thick arousal, gathering more wetness and leaving his cock shiny.
His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, voice a scratchy rasp that dances over my skin, electrifying every part of me. “Can’t fucking get enough.”
Needy lust slays me, and I arch into him, my thighs spreading wider in a silent plea. His eyes snap to mine. “You want me deep inside you?”
“Please.” I don’t care that I’m begging or that I sound desperate as hell.
Holding my gaze captive, he slowly presses inside me, inch by delicious inch. With forearms braced above me, he edges inside deeper. I clutch at the firm muscles of his back that turn to granite once he buries his cock inside me, bottoming out.
His guttural-sounding, “Fuck,” has every nerve ending in my body riddled with want.
“Watch us,” he commands, pulling out of me, and his cock glistens, coated with my slick wetness. “Watch me sink inside that pretty pussy.”
Transfixed, I can’t tear my eyes from the sight as he slides back inside with aching slowness. When I rock my hips, his eyes squeeze shut like he’s in pain, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. My inner muscles clench reflexively, and his eyes flash open, searing me with molten heat.
He drags his cock nearly all the way out, his voice is hoarse, laden with lust. “You’re so goddamn wet.” With a powerful thrust, he buries himself once again and fits his mouth to mine, ravaging it, his tongue seeking out my own. A rough sound rumbles in the back of his throat when our tongues tangle, sending pleasure shimmering through me.
My hunger for him rises higher and higher, and my movements turn desperate and frenzied as pure need takes over. I try to urge him on by widening my thighs and rocking my hips, but he maintains control.
Every nerve ending in my body screams out for more—for him to lose control and thrust wildly, but he doesn’t. Instead, he breaks the kiss and drives in and out in smooth, steady strokes, his eyes never veering from me. They drift over my features, searching, but I’m unsure what they seek. What I do know is, with each deep glide of his cock, Hunter isn’t simply fucking me.
He’s ruining me.
He’s taking and giving until I’m unable to decipher which parts are mine and which are his. Where the separation lies. Who belongs to whom.
His touch brands me remarkably different from before because it holds a quality of tenderness that renders me defenseless. And I know, in an instant, that I’ll never be the same. This is our bodies coming together with a deeper understanding, with compassion, brimming with hope upon finding someone who’s just as scarred and wounded.
My body melds with his as if it’s meant to be; as though we’re two halves finally reuniting to become one. His biceps flex with each thrust, plunging deep inside me. His touch affects me to the marrow of my bones as my mind, soul, and heart simultaneously clamor for more.
When he reaches between us to apply the perfect amount of pressure to my clit, it has me writhing. Nipples grazing the hard wall of his chest, I can’t withhold a sharp gasp at the sensation. He gives a light pinch to my sensitive clit before tugging i
t, and it sends me toppling over the edge. My orgasm barrels through me, my inner muscles spasming around his rigid length. Only then do his thrusts grow a hint wilder, more unrestrained.
Breaths rushing out in fast, harsh pants, he gives three more deep thrusts before his entire body goes taut. Burying his face in my neck as powerful shudders overtake him, he fills me with his release.
A shiver wracks his body, and when he slowly raises his head to peer down at me, his eyes glint with something I can’t quite decipher. It’s as though we’re laying ourselves bare to one another, raw and vulnerable, and the emotion held in the depths of his gaze is all-encompassing.
I crave the power to freeze this moment and allow myself to memorize every nuance, the way his expression differs from his normally closed-off, cold, unemotional one. Though he may not be offering me an unencumbered view, this is a glimpse. It allows me to see a hint of emotion carefully hidden behind the usual mask he wears. Although it’s a fleeting view, I’ll cherish it as the priceless gift it is.
His touch reveals something I hadn’t known or suspected: an abyss buried deep within me that’s been lying in wait, desperately hoping to be discovered. Hoping to be nurtured. To be understood.
I could’ve never expected that the one man to assuage it would be him.
The Hunter.
49
Hunter
It’s been years since I’ve had a woman curled up against me in bed like this. Having Kate’s body pressed to my side, my arm cinching her to me, and her palm resting over the top of my chest feel pretty damn perfect.
She intrigues me like no other. I find myself wanting to know everything I can about her, and not simply what can be found in police reports.
It’s why I end up asking, “What was she like? Your daughter?”
Her body stiffens before she exhales slowly. Her body relaxes a fraction, as though she’s willing it to. The hand she has on my chest moves, and she begins tracing a random pattern along my skin.
“Willow was…” She pauses before finishing with, “A firecracker and an old soul all in one.” The affection in her voice is palpable. “She could be stubborn as hell but was such a thoughtful and kind child.
“She’d tell people at the grocery store, ‘Have a great day!’ when we were pushing out our shopping cart. Then she’d whisper, ‘Mama, I totally made that lady’s day because she looked sad until I smiled at her and said to have a great day.’”
“And she was only six?” There’s an odd tightness in my chest.
“Yeah, she was something else. So astute. Loved to make us laugh.” There’s a shift in her tone, and her voice sounds like it’s being forced out. “She was always affectionate and loved snuggling.”
Kate falls silent, and if I thought my chest felt tight a moment ago, it’s nothing compared to how it feels when she says, “Sometimes I think she’d be ashamed of me now. If she could see what I’ve become.”
“No.” With a finger beneath her chin, I tip her face up, waiting for her to meet my eyes. “She’d be amazed at how much you sacrificed for her. In her memory. She’d see how brave you are.” I smooth back her hair from her face, silently willing her to believe my words. “How strong you are.”
“You think so?”
“I do.”
Her eyes search my face briefly before she presses a single kiss to my chest, then settles back with her cheek resting on me.
“If you had the chance to start over after this, where would you go?”
Her fingertips skim a path along the number of scars and divots from old wounds, and she hums thoughtfully. “I’ve always wanted to go to Costa Rica. To have a little place on the beach. Nothing fancy…just away from the bulk of the tourists. Somewhere so warm that I’d never feel cold again.”
“Sounds perfect,” I murmur.
“Yeah,” she agrees softly.
Peering down at her, the way her hair fans along my shoulder, I tentatively ask, “How did you and Deacon meet?”
Shifting slightly, she rests her chin on the hand braced on my chest. “Deacon and I went to school together, but we never really ran in the same circles. He was always on the quieter side, but even more so when we were in high school.
“He’d had a lot more to juggle than the average student when his mom died during our senior year of high school. She’d been a single parent, and he juggled work and school when the rest of us were going to football games on Friday nights or to the movies.
“He went to the community college after that, and I went to Appalachian State. Dad hired Deacon at the shop because business had picked up considerably. But when Mom died—” She stops abruptly, letting out a slow breath. “It caught us all by surprise.”
“How did she die?”
“She had an aneurysm a month before my college graduation. Dad found her collapsed in the kitchen.”
I tighten my hold on her. “I’m sorry.”
“I had a few different job offers, but I knew I couldn’t leave Dad alone. He was devastated. So, I came home and started working at the shop.”
“And you and Deacon reconnected,” I supply gently.
“Yeah. Things kind of fell into place. He was a surprise I didn’t expect, but we just clicked. He helped me come back to life after Mom passed. Made me smile again.” Her lips twist in a smile tinged with sadness. “The next thing I knew, I blinked, and we were married and had a baby on the way.”
Sweeping my thumb across her bottom lip, I wish her mouth would curve into a smile. That the cloud of grief hanging over this beautiful woman would subside. “He was a lucky man.”
I sense her need to change the subject before she rises up and fits her mouth to mine. Then her lips skim along my jawline and down the side of my neck just beneath my earlobe. She nips at the skin there, and I shudder in response, my body instinctively squirming before I lock my muscles tight.
Her head jerks up in surprise. “Are you ticklish?”
I attempt to school my features. “No.”
A slow smile spreads across her face, and all my breath lodges in my chest at the sight. Because, goddamn, she’s even more beautiful when she smiles.
“You are.” Mischief lights her eyes before she places another kiss on that same spot, and an unfamiliar sound erupts from deep within me. It sounds rusty, and I realize it’s a small laugh. A real one.
She plants tiny kisses at the corners of my mouth, and when she finds them curved slightly, she immediately goes still, rearing back slightly.
“You’re smiling,” she whispers, peering down at me with an expression of wonder. One of her fingers traces my lips, hesitating on the right side. “Your smile’s a little crooked right here.” Her mouth stretches wider, and her eyes light up in what can only be described as joy. “It’s perfect.”
I tangle my fingers in her hair, guiding her mouth to mine for a quick kiss. “So are you.” Skimming a palm over her hip, I grip her ass.
“You planning to get lucky again, huh?”
“Maybe.” I smirk at her sharp intake of breath when my fingers dip between her thighs and trace over the crease of her entrance. “You up for it?”
“I might be,” she answers breathlessly, nipples tightening against my chest as I sink two fingertips inside her wet heat.
“Hmm.” I guide her back, taking in the sight of her nipples tightening, as if in anticipation. “I need to take a slight detour first.”
Settling between her thighs, I brace my forearms on each side of her before lowering my mouth to capture one perfect, pink nipple in my mouth. She hisses my name, her body arching instinctively, and an intense surge of lust licks through my veins.
I toy with the tight peak, teasing it with flicks of my tongue before sucking it hard. Shifting to pay the same homage to the other, I continue until they’re both glistening and rosy from my mouth.
Shifting down her body, I lower my head and place an openmouthed kiss to her pussy. I use my thumbs to spread her outer lips to bare her swollen cli
t better. Fitting my mouth around it, I suck gently and intermittently flick it with my tongue.
“Hunter.” The urgent need in her whimper has my cock nearly driving a hole through the goddamn mattress. Her hands clutch at the bedsheets as she presses her pussy insistently against my mouth.
I sink two fingers inside her wet heat, and when her inner muscles clench around them, I nearly lose my shit. I can’t restrain a groan as I suck and tongue her clit with ferocity. It sends her tipping over the edge, her body going taut before she spasms around my fingers, a rush of wetness coating them.
Once her tremors subside, I gently withdraw my fingers from her and suck them clean, my eyes closing as I relish in her taste. Fuck. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get enough of this woman.
“Come here.” Her husky voice has me moving back up and fitting my mouth to hers in a firm kiss. She reaches between us to wrap her fingers around my length. “I need you.”
I need you, too.
The sentiment startles the shit out of me, so I shove it aside, burying it deep as I sink inside and lose myself in her tight body.
My thrusts grow faster, more urgent. Looking down at Kate, at the sheen of sweat covering her gorgeous body and the hint of a sexy smile pulling at her lips, I know I’ll have this image of her at this moment engrained in my memory for years to come.
50
Kate
Final Planning
“Not confident yet?”
Hunter studies me, and while the fact that he knows me well enough to detect my unease and disappointment sends a thrill rushing through me, I also hate what I’m about to admit.
“No.” Frustration settles deep in my gut as I resign myself to the fact that I won’t be able to use my bow and arrows. “My shoulder’s not up to snuff yet, and I just can’t risk it.”