by Unknown
The auctioneer looked startled for a moment; then, after speaking to Minnie, nodded enthusiastically.
Hunter sat down to the scattered applause of an audience that had no idea what he was really doing.
“You did it, cowboy,” Fortune said, her voice filled with pride. “Five down and two to go, and we still have six days.”
“And tonight, we still have tonight, my wild woman.”
The rest of the auction passed in a blur of bidding. Fortune didn’t know how much money was raised, but she knew that it had been a great sum. Enough to build a proper shelter for her runaways, enough to take in more. But she refused to think about that. This evening she was all dressed up.
This evening she had a ball to attend.
A side wall was removed, revealing an area for dancing. The guests were pushing back from their tables and making their way to the floor.
“Shall we dance, partner?”
“Oh, Hunter, I don’t know whether I can even walk in these heels.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll hold you up.”
He put his arm around her waist and held her so tightly that she couldn’t have slipped if she’d tried. They circled the speakers’ table as the orchestra began to play. Fortune stopped, listening to the tune. She’d heard it before, earlier in the day, at the Bear Trap.
There were no words, but the song was clearly “Streets of Baltimore.”
Hunter gathered Fortune in his arms. “Come here, wild woman, I’ve wanted to put my arms around you all night.”
They danced. No, Fortune decided quickly, they simply held each other and the music caught them in its lovely sound and kept the rhythm of their hearts with its beat. Nobody attempted to cut in. Hunter would have swept anyone who tried away with a glance.
Only once did they part: she to go the ladies’ room and Hunter to pay their bid. As she left the parlor, she had to wait for Hunter, who came hurriedly from the hallway, gliding to her side with such a look of longing that she sighed and leaned against him as if she were out of breath and needed to rest.
“It’s almost twelve,” he said, his blue eyes stormy with unspoken passion.
“And we’ve danced the whole night through.”
“Not yet, wild woman, not yet.”
He kissed her in the elevator, and again a moment later in the corridor outside their suite, pressing her against the wall. And then they were inside the foyer, still kissing, bodies shimmering with energy, faces flushed, eyes filled with yearning.
“Are you sure, wild woman?”
“Absolutely, cowboy.”
His arms were around her back, clasping her loosely at her waist. Their breathing was quick and shallow, a vain attempt to bring cool air into lungs steamy with need.
Her hands were unbuttoning his shirt, sliding his jacket from his shoulders and pushing it behind to the floor. His shirt followed, and Fortune was able to lay her cheek against the golden hair on his chest.
“I’ve wanted to touch you here with my face since that first day. I love the feel of the hair on your chest, tingling like fire against me.”
“Not fair,” he said with a groan, “I don’t have that advantage.” He searched for the back zipper.
“No! Not yet.” Fortune twisted away. She turned her face toward Hunter. “Kiss me again.”
She stroked his face, reveling in the feel of him beneath her touch. His face was strong; his nose, his ears, all perfectly carved to match the stern look of him. This kind of touching was utterly new to Fortune. She’d never allowed herself to reach out to a man, not the way she was to him.
Hunter Kincaid, the loner, the rich boy who raced demon machines in obscure little places where screaming fans knew him as the Bounty Hunter, was very still.
His eyes were searching hers, searching as if he wasn’t sure that he believed what was happening. There were questions. There was uncertainty. And she knew he wasn’t a man who was ever uncertain about anything. Then he groaned and lowered his head.
He captured her lips gently at first, then more urgently, allowing his hands to caress her back, her shoulders, her breasts. The beads on the fabric pressed against her skin like hundreds of little fingers of heat. She moaned, giving herself up completely to the taste of his mouth, the bold intrusion of his tongue, the promise of wild, hot passion banked but blazing in the body of Hunter Kincaid.
Her hands left his face and sculpted the shape of his rib cage. Down through the downy chest hair they moved. She unfastened the cummerbund and his trousers, and pushed them to the floor, freeing the hard male part of him.
Fortune groaned. She was too short, far too short to match her need with his. Desperately, she slid her leg outside of his, taking his knee against the hottest part of her. When Hunter felt her arching to him, he pried his feet from his shoes, stepped out of the trousers puddled around his ankles, and backed to the wall, leaning against it.
Fortune felt herself begin to explode. Soon it would be too late to turn back. Maybe it already was.
“Fortune.” Hunter pulled his mouth away. His voice was as ragged as his breathing. “Fortune, if you don’t let me take off that dress, I’m going to rip it off, and that will cost us the prize.”
“I’ll do it.” She gasped, flinging her head back so that she could see him. “Oh, cowboy, its … It’s—I can’t even describe what I feel. Is it always like this, Hunter, between a man and a woman?”
“No, I don’t think so. At least …” His voice trailed off as he looked at the woman he was holding. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her hair was tousled and shining like black coal in the firelight. She was riding him like the vixen in a man’s most erotic fantasy, and she was openly acknowledging her desire.
He was on fire and he wasn’t even inside her yet.
“No,” he whispered, “it isn’t always like this, at least it never has been for me.”
“Hunter—”
The sharp knock on the door beside them seemed foreign. It came, stopped, and came again. “Bell captain.”
Hunter cursed under his breath and straightened his leg, letting Fortune slide to the floor. “You’d better take care of it, I don’t think I’m dressed for guests.”
Fortune stared at his nude body and shivered.
Then there was a click.
Someone was opening the door.
Fortune straightened her dress and stepped around the door to meet whoever was entering.
“Oh, sorry, ma’am. I was told that you were at the ball. I was instructed to bring this hat to your suite.”
The bellman was standing in the light spilling inside from the doorway holding Minnie Pearl’s hat. The ever-present price tag dangled from the brim.
“Thank you,” Fortune managed to say. “I’m afraid I don’t have a tip for you, but—” She knew she was stammering foolishly, but the thought of an aroused Hunter standing behind the door waiting had turned her stupid.
“No problem, it’s been taken care of.” The hotel employee held out the hat. Fortune took it and watched him back out the door and close it behind him.
“Lock the damned thing!” Hunter growled. He came out into the light, picked up his clothes, and pitched them across the sofa.
But the moment was shattered. Fortune’s heart pounded in her throat. She couldn’t believe her actions of a moment ago. She’d practically raped the man.
Hunter turned around, stared at her for a moment, and blushed.
Fortune had the absurd thought that he was providing a place to hang Minnie’s hat. Then her eyes moved lower. His long, muscular legs were encased with very long, ribbed silk black socks. There was something incongruous about this nude man, this very hard nude man, wearing nothing but his socks. She began to smile.
“You think this is funny?” he asked. “You abuse me, arouse me, and stand there laughing at my poor hurting body while you’re fully clothed?”
“Hurting body? Oh, I’m sorry, cowboy, I didn’t think. I let you hold me up without realizi
ng how painful that must be.”
“My back would have to be riddled with knives to hurt badly enough to override what you’ve done to the rest of my body. Do something with that hat, wild woman, and heal me.”
He stood before her, peeling his socks off and waiting, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.
She floundered, unable to answer or move.
“Fortune, you did this to me. I’ve been like this almost since the first time you crawled on that bike behind me. I want you. I need you.”
She couldn’t speak. The sheer magnificence of him overwhelmed her. The intensity of his gaze made her feel as if she were shimmering. There were invisible waves emanating from her body, covering the space between them like a heated coil.
All she could hear was the sound of their breathing. The ever-present tingling of her body was protesting in cadence with the throbbing of Hunter’s proud signal of desire. Her breasts ached. There was a tender torture somewhere between her legs, and her pulse was racing through her body like a flood spilling over its banks.
“Please, my darling Fortune?”
She’d never know whether it was her own desire, or his calling her “darling,” or maybe it was the “please” that did it. But just as she’d known earlier, there was no turning back. They were meant to be partners, and they were meant to be lovers. Fortune had always lived by her instincts, just as Hunter had. Now they’d found each other.
Reaching behind her, Fortune caught the zipper of the dress and lowered it, her eyes focused on Hunter with every ounce of her being. If this man was destined as her first lover, then so be it. The sequined dress slid from her body and made a splash of shimmering red around her satin shoes.
Hunter’s breath quickened as the dress fell. Beneath it, Fortune’s perfect breasts were free and standing out in passionate response to what was raging between them. She was wearing pantyhose, see-through hose.
She peeled off the hose and stood before him, more perfect than he’d ever dreamed. Hunter couldn’t speak. His breath had left his body, and he was smothering in a wave of heat.
But it was her eyes that forced him to move. Black eyes that challenged, dared, lit up like those of a Spanish matador defying the mad bull in some fine old painting. He reached down to lift her.
“No!” she said vehemently. “We’ll go together.”
She took his arm, and they walked into his bedroom, where he pulled back the spread and pushed her down to the bed. He knelt on the floor between her legs and took her into his arms, whispering against her hair, “I want you to know that I understood what you were saying before, about not being protected.”
Fortune jerked.
“No, Fortune, this is no thoughtless seduction. You’re a woman who’s made her own way, and I’m a man who’s done the same. If we make love, it will be because you want it as much as I do. If that isn’t true, say so now, and we’ll stop.”
Arms looped around his neck, Fortune swore softly. “Holy hell, cowboy, do you have to talk so much?”
Her heart was thudding so, she could barely talk. Why was he making her talk about what was happening? All she wanted to do was melt against him and feel. The warmth of his breath against her cheek, the touching of her nipples against his chest, sent exquisite waves of pleasure through her, and she trembled involuntarily.
Hunter stopped talking. His lips found other things to do as they moved down her cheek, tasting her skin, fanning little hot whirlpools of sensation, then moving down.
Lower and lower. He captured her nipple. Fortune moaned and leaned back, resting her weight on her hands on the bed, offering herself to him. Her lips were parted, her breath quick and uneven. The beginning stubble of Hunter’s five o’clock shadow grated against the silkiness of her breast as he sucked her like a hungry babe.
And then she was falling across the bed, and he was falling over her, probing her, seeking entrance to that wild, hot part of her. He fumbled just for a second and raised himself over her, finding the place he sought, the place that seemed elusive, blocked.
He stopped, confusion stilling his movements. “What?”
Then Fortune arched herself against him and he was inside her, quivering on the edge of desire as she gave as much as he asked. No quiet, passive recipient of his passion, her hands and body were asking, demanding things of him that he couldn’t refuse. Fortune was thrashing beneath him, thrusting against him, asking for more and more until they both hung together in a scorching shudder of release.
Fortune knew she was smiling as she felt him tremble once more, then fall across her with a groan of pleasure. “Cowboy,” she began, searching for the words to express what she was feeling. “Was it, was I …”
“You were spectacular. But—why? Why didn’t you tell me that you were a virgin?”
“I thought that you wouldn’t believe me—that you’d think I was weird. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for this—I know what you must think of me—”
“Wild woman.” He cut her off by turning over and pulling her into his arms and kissing her gently. “There are times, my darling wild woman, when we both talk too much.”
It was much later when Hunter was still dealing with the responsibility he felt for the woman. His Mary Poppins of the pink bicycle, the woman who took in stray children and fought the justice system to keep them, had never made love to a man before.
He couldn’t put that aside. He’d never experienced that phenomenon. Even his first time, when he’d been fourteen, hadn’t been the first time for the fifteen-year-old “older woman” who initiated him into the world of sensual pleasure.
But Fortune Dagosta had been a virgin. She’d healed his back with her touch and his soul with her body. They’d been connected from the first, and now their lovemaking had sealed it. He’d stopped believing in forever long ago, but until after they’d won the prize, they were together, and it was good—very good.
He claimed her breast in his large hand and began to caress it. Her nipple swelled appreciatively, filling his hand as if it were saying yes, yes. Fortune let out a soft sigh and found a place for her hand that Hunter approved of with a sigh of his own.
Later he carefully moved over her again and slid inside her. He knew he was a big man, and Fortune was so tiny. The first time, such a short time ago, had been shrouded in a haze of passion so intense that she wouldn’t have felt the pain. This time he wouldn’t take the chance that he’d hurt her. He supported himself on his elbows and looked down at her, half-asleep, flushed, and smiling.
The light in the entrance was still burning. In the half darkness he could view the dusky pink of her nipples, like ripe raspberries, the honey-color skin that made up the gentle curve of her small breasts as they peaked against his chest. Her nose was too thin, but it was impudent and matched her wide lips, which curved into an even wider satisfied smile. There was an errant strand of dark hair across her cheek that caught her long eyelash, giving her a seductive look.
Hunter felt himself throb impatiently as he tried to move slowly. She was still tight, though the ease with which she accommodated him freed his restraint, and he pushed himself deeper and deeper, slowly moving in and out until the sound of her breathing became as ragged and desperate as his.
She wanted him. Her body curved itself around him, demanding impatiently that he satisfy the need he’d aroused. Her lips were parted now, her legs spread wider as she lifted herself to meet him, writhing, bucking, her moans turning into little cries of need.
So sensitive to her body was he that he knew the moment it began, the rumbling, rolling announcement of her climax, overcoming her, drawing all tighter and tighter until she exploded, sensation rippling through her like a storm. And then he forgot everything but his own release, and they floated together in the afterglow of their loving. He rolled over, bringing her with him, as she continued to hold him inside.
Fortune lay, her face pressed against his chest, until he fell asleep. They remained joined, bo
th physically and spiritually. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want the night to end. She didn’t want the light of tomorrow to change what they’d shared.
But like Hunter, Fortune knew that nothing was forever.
And she didn’t want to lose the now.
The smell of coffee, and lips brushing hers, woke Fortune the next morning. She sighed and stretched, feeling the silky fabric of the sheets caress her naked body.
Naked!
Fortune sat up, winced, and grabbed at the covers.
“It’s a little late for such modesty,” said Hunter, making no effort to conceal his amusement.
“I know you’re right, but—but—” She opened her eyes and glared at him. He knew how embarrassed she was, and he had no intention of turning away.
“I even swiped an apple off somebody else’s breakfast tray,” Hunter said solemnly.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. I’m …”
“What are you, then, my wild woman?”
“I think I’m sore, and I need a shower, and I need you to turn your back. You may be used to parading around nude before your paramours, but I’m not.”
“Fortune, look at me. You don’t have to worry. I’m not coming back to bed with you. We have to get moving. We still have the Lithia gold to locate, remember?”
“Yes, of course, and I have things to do. I’d like to call Lucy.” She knew she was babbling, but she’d never been in this situation before, and she was nervous.
“Of course you may. Why would you ask?”
“I’ve been thinking about the rules of the contest. We aren’t supposed to be using our own money, or family freebies, are we? I mean, couldn’t our staying in your hotel be breaking the rules?”
“Not if we pay, and it isn’t my hotel.”
Hunter knew his voice was too sharp. But he wasn’t nearly as settled about their relationship as he was pretending to be. He’d awakened early and spent an uncomfortable half hour feeling her pressed against him. The longer he held her, the more obvious it became that the previous night had not been a passing fling.