Angela, Carla - Full Exposure (BookStrand Publishing Romance)
Page 8
Then he dropped his grip on her hand and reached to pull her mohair top over her head. At least, Lake thought, having economically-sized breasts meant you could go conveniently bra-less in some garments.
Her russet hair fell out about in waves at her shoulders again, dripping down to her pert breasts. Then, with her kneeling at the edge of the bed and him standing at its foot, Hunter put a warm, strong hand in the small of her back and pulled her to him, so that they were now deliciously skin-on-skin. Hunter’s hardened muscle—and hardened member—pressed against her.
Lake grabbed his face, pulling his bristly, strong jaw to her, and kissed his mouth with ferocity. A fire. Their tongues thrust in and out of each other’s mouths, setting off fireballs of passion with each thrust.
Then, achingly, Hunter’s lips pulled away from Lake’s momentarily, only to descend southwards as he slowly knelt down at the foot of the bed…deep south. And oh, God. Oh, God! His tongue was inside of her nether region now, deliciously probing in and out, in and out. Lake dug her fingernails into his tanned shoulders, her hips bucking against him with every stroke of his tongue.
Just as she was on the brink, just as she was ready to explode, his tongue suddenly stopped, and he peered up into her eyes again.
‘C’mon,’ he said huskily. Then he stood up, all six foot three of him, gathered her in his muscular arms, and gently deposited her in the centre of the bed so that she was on her back again, her hair splaying out behind her like a puddle of red paint.
Then he maneuvered himself above her and thrust inside of her with his manhood, Lake howling with delight. Back and forth they went. Back and forth. Lake had her arms wrapped around him, pulling him ever closer to her, wanting him deeper and deeper inside her.
And then…oh, God!…she arched her hips, a tsunami of warm bliss suddenly flooding through her, bubbling inside of her, causing her body to buck against him again. Hunter was groaning, too, from deep within the pit of his stomach. Growling as a tidal wave of pleasure reverberated through him.
Then, at last, they fell against each other side by side on the bed, panting, breathless. Looking up, all Lake could see was the massive, black-and-white photograph of her naked frame hanging above the bed-head. Hunter’s fingers snaked through hers, gripping them, as though holding on to her like a life raft as the room spun around them in a multitude of colors. This is what Heaven felt like then.
Slowly Lake propped herself up on one elbow again and turned to him, her russet hair tumbling around her. She traced a finger up and down the crease between his pectorals, where there were faint, blond tufts of hair, watching his chest rise and fall. ‘I have a question,’ she said finally.
Hunter turned to look at her, Lake feeling herself drowning in his aquamarine-blue eyes again. ‘Yes?’
‘When I first met you, why were you dressed, well…’
‘Like a hobo?’ Hunter’s perfect mouth creased into a whiter-than-white grin.
‘Well, er, yes.’ Lake now felt embarrassed to have brought it up. To possibly have ruined the moment. She could have kicked herself. Even from her lying-down angle.
Hunter didn’t seem to mind. He gently put his hand in the back of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her, wetting her mouth, and causing her nether region to feel wet all over again, too. Then he spoke. ‘I wanted to be as mysterious to you as you were the first time I laid eyes on your image. At the framing shop.’ He traced a careful finger along her cheek. ‘When I learned more about you—from watching you from across the street—I just had a feeling you would have written me off at first glance as some sort of rich playboy. That you were feisty. And, from your photos, that you’d had your heart broken and were likely suspicious of any male attention. So I wanted to drag it out a little longer. Keep you interested. Wait for you to get to know me first before just dismissing me.’
It was all beginning to click into place, why Fenella had vaguely recognized him from his first up-the-nose online shot. She must have seen him once when visiting the picture framing shop on Lake’s behalf—perhaps a rare moment when he’d slipped from the back into the front retail space.
Lake mmm-hmmed. ‘And the photos? Why did you buy them all? Did you talk the gallery into giving you the lot for a bargain-basement price, being the gallery’s silent owner and all?’
Hunter shook his head, chuckling softly to himself. ‘No. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough on the night. Quite a few buyers had already got in first. So I had to offer more. Much, much more. Yes, even as the gallery’s owner. But it was worth it. Well worth it. Because the thought of having anyone else’s eyes on your body again, after last night, just tore me apart. There was no way.’
Lake breathed out again. ‘You shouldn’t have. I can’t believe you went to all this trouble…buying my artwork, coming up with a faux online dating profile…just for me. It’s unbelievable.’
Hunter tangled his hands in her russet hair. ‘You’re one in a million, babe. You’re my inspiration. Even why I’m painting.’
‘And when you left me last night? Naked and wanting? Alone behind that curtain?’
‘I couldn’t bear being in that room any longer with all those prying eyes on your naked body. I had to get it sorted. To pay for the artworks and to make sure that they were delivered and hung at my house in time—before you arrived. To show you just how much you really meant to me. And I only just had it all finished in the nick of time. You almost left!’
‘Wow,’ Lake breathed. There was so much to take in. It was all almost too good to be true.
Hunter’s eyes were solemn again, deeply penetrating hers. ‘And I never want to be without you by my side again. In fact, I want you to move in with me.’ He gripped her hand earnestly. ‘I can have a darkroom built here and everything. If… if you’ll allow me to, of course.’
The euphoria coursed through Lake’s veins, yet she was hesitant. Having such an Adonis of a man, such a beautiful being, showering her with so much love and affection was unnerving to say the least.
‘I…I don’t know. How do I know you won’t one day change your mind and up and leave? Leave me out in the cold, like at the gallery? I couldn’t bare it!’ Lake’s heart hammered in her chest, her mouth tugging down at the corners.
Hunter nuzzled into her breasts, peering up at her through the crevice. ‘I could never leave you. What decent man could? I knew you were The One from the first moment my eyes caressed your image at the framing shop.’ He paused to lightly chuckle. A soft, velvety sound. ‘But, do me a favour, would you? Don’t give up your place before we’ve christened your old darkroom, okay?’
In an instant, Lake could tell this time things were different. He wasn’t Chase. He was Hunter, and hunt her he had. And she was willing prey. She felt exhilarated, warmth bubbling through her. It was time to pull the parachute cord and let go, see where life took her. Despite feeling drunk on love, she couldn’t resist teasing him still. ‘Christened it?’ Lake asked, her forehead wrinkling up in mock-question.
‘Yeah,’ Hunter said, a sly look shadowing his face. ‘Like this.’
Then he got to his knees and lifted her onto his lap, encouraging her legs to wind their way around his middle, inserting his member into her wet heat and thrusting deep inside her again and again.
* * * *
Staring up at the photo of her on the wall above them, Hunter enjoyed the delicious double vision he had of Lake, complemented by the feel of her real breasts jiggling against his chest and her lady parts inviting him deep within.
He now delighted in having more of this perfect, feisty woman in his life than he could ever want. She was all his.
THE END
WWW.CARLAANGELA.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carla Angela lives with her husband, DeRohan, in Adelaide, Australia. When she’s not tapping away on her keyboard, she loves to shop, spend time with her family, renovate her 1925 bungalow, and listen to ’90s R&B music. She’s known she wanted to be a writer ever since
she learned to read. Writing allows her to escape to glamorous worlds—without having to change out of her pj’s!
www.BookStrand.com