HUNTER (The Caine Brothers Book 1)

by Madigan, Margaret

  “That’s not what I meant. It looks like half of it’s missing.”

  She laughed. “Since when did a little skin offend you?”

  “It doesn’t offend me, I just don’t want every other man here looking at you.”

  Her brows shot up. “Oh, really?”

  He rewound what he’d just said in his head and realized how possessive it sounded. Why’d he say that? Because he didn’t want a bunch of male eyes all over her. She belonged to him—at least for the weekend—and he didn’t share.

  “We’re supposed to be married, remember? It’s not very convincing if you’re dressing to attract every man here.”

  Good save. At least he thought so until she snorted. She joined him at the window, stepping right up close and placing her hand on his chest. His skin tingled under her touch.

  “It’s just a dress. But I’m glad you like it.”

  Her sky-blue gaze held his as she traced a finger down his chest and belly—a line of fiery lust—that ended just above the towel knotted around his hips.

  “Careful, sweetheart.”

  He struggled to keep his hands at his sides. He really wanted to put them on her waist and pull her against him, but he chose to maintain a little dignity instead. Besides, he was curious what she’d do.

  “Why?”

  “I thought you wanted to sleep on my proposal.”

  “You can’t just waltz out of the shower wearing only a towel, looking like this, and expect me to keep my hands to myself. Especially after you invited me to a weekend of no-strings-attached sex.”

  “You’re the one who put on the brakes.”

  She rose up on her toes until her lips were a breath away from his. “Maybe I just want a little sample to help my deliberations.”

  “Happy to help,” he said, and closed the gap between them.

  His lips met hers with an electric zing that shot straight down his spine into his balls. She felt it too, if the way she gasped was any indication.

  This time he did put his hands on her waist. He grabbed fistfuls of her dress and yanked her body against his. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in the hair at his neck, scraping his scalp with her nails as she did. The sting sent desire exploding in his belly.

  She opened her mouth and he accepted the invitation to taste her—sweet and salty and like sex on a stick. His brain went thick with impulse, abandoning logical thought. All he could do was react. And want. He clicked over into instinct and let his body have the reins.

  She made eager sounds in her throat. God, he liked a vocal partner. It turned him on to hear her need building.

  He kissed her harder, deeper, hotter. She pressed herself against him.

  He liked her height. At six two, it annoyed him to have to hunch over to kiss a tiny woman. Allison had to be five eight or nine in bare feet, and in heels she was only a few inches shorter than him.

  He broke the kiss and moved to her neck. One kiss there and her head fell back, giving him free access. He kissed, nibbled, licked, and then bit at her collarbone.

  She sucked in a hissing breath, then moaned as she exhaled, making his cock jump with delight.

  “Hunter?” Her voice sounded like a lazy summer day.

  “Hmm?” He’d worked his way over to her shoulder, licking and kissing, watching her skin pebble with desire as he did.

  “We should probably head downstairs.”

  He froze in place, then pulled back to look her in the eye. “What?”

  “Dinner?”

  He stepped back. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I’m starving.”

  He thought his head might explode, trying to figure this woman out. “Allison. We’re a little busy right now, or did that kiss have no effect on you?”

  She looked up at him from under her lashes, a coy look in her eyes and a devilish smirk on her lips. “You tell me.”

  Reaching for his hand, she guided it up under her dress to press it against her panties.

  Wet and warm.

  “Mmmm,” he groaned.

  Instead of removing his hand, he hooked his fingers under the edge of her panties, pushing them aside, and slipped his fingers into the wetness of her folds.

  “Holy shit, Hunter.” Her voice was a breathy plea.

  “You like that?”

  “God, yes.”

  She braced herself on his shoulder and hitched a leg up over his hip, giving him better access.

  He took his time, caressing, exploring, dipping first one finger inside, then two as deep as he could reach. She rode his hand, keeping time with his rhythm. It was a poor simulation of what he’d do with his cock, but it would do as a preview.

  When she bucked her hips into his palm he pulled his fingers out and found her clit. His cock throbbed, demanding to take a turn, but he ignored it. Right now he’d give her the sample she wanted—make her come and still want more.

  Using his fingers, he circled her clit, round and round, the whole time her breath coming faster, the incoherent wanting sounds more insistent, her grasp on his shoulders tighter. When he finally pinched her clit, she about melted to the floor, but he snaked an arm around her waist to hold her up.

  He pinched again and she came, throwing her head back and making the sexiest fucking moan he’d ever heard. He dipped his fingers back inside her to feel the ripples of her orgasm grip him. He closed his eyes and rode the waves of pleasure.

  When she finally pulled away, he asked, “That give you enough to deliberate on?”

  She managed a choked sounding, “Yeah.”

  He chuckled. Served her right for teasing him. “Ready for dinner?”

  “But what about you?”

  His cock raged for his turn, but no way he’d give her the satisfaction. She had her sample, and if she wanted to sleep on it, by damn, they’d sleep on it. Even if it killed him.

  Aside from that, it gave him a surprising amount of pleasure to make her happy without getting anything in return.

  “Cold shower.”

  “Hunter, that’s not fair.”

  “You’ll just owe me one.”

  He’d give her the night, but tomorrow, all bets were off, and he intended to collect.

  Hunter went right back into the bathroom to do whatever he intended to do to get that roaring erection under control. Allison pondered following him and helping him out, one way or another.

  Two things stopped her; first, her legs were so weak from that flipping amazing orgasm that she didn’t think she could walk across the room, and secondly, the anticipation of owing him heated her all over again.

  While he’d showered the first time, she’d moved all their luggage to the closet. Now, she went to find a dry pair of panties.

  She changed them and sat on the bed, waiting for Hunter and remembering his fingers on her and in her. The ghost of his touch still lingered on her skin and in the receding pulse of her orgasm.

  If that was just a sample of what they’d do to each other, she didn’t need to sleep on it. To hell with caution, she was ready for more.

  But apparently he’d decided they’d stick to the agreement.

  It didn’t take long for him to finish in the bathroom, and when he left the bathroom this time, he looked like he could barely contain his triumph. Like by making her come like that he’d proven some primal point. Like he’d achieved a coup, vanquished a rival, swept in and made a hostile takeover. He puffed his chest, threw his shoulders back, and pretty much strutted into the room.

  “Kinda proud of yourself there, chief?” she asked.

  “Maybe a little. Where’s my suitcase?”

  She pointed at the closet. He went in and rummaged, coming out with charcoal slacks and a blue shirt. He laid everything out on the bed, then paused.

  “There are four restaurants here. Any idea what you’re hungry for?” she asked.

  “Seriously, you have to ask?”

  She looked at him, saw the unfiltered lust in h
is eyes, and remembered he still hadn’t been properly taken care of. A little bit of waiting wouldn’t hurt Mr. I-get-everything-I-want-when-I-want-it CEO. Might build some character.

  “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

  “I don’t like to wait.”

  “Waiting makes everything better.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You’ll see.”

  He rolled his eyes, and she smiled. This weekend could be a lot of fun.

  “Are you going to sit there while I dress?” he asked.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes. But if you do, we won’t be waiting for tomorrow. If I get naked with you now, you’d better be ready to skip dinner and forget about sleep for most of the night.”

  “Well, then. I’ll step out and let you dress. Because I’m starving.”

  “Coward.”

  She slid off the bed, laughing at his fake insult. As she passed him on the way to the door, she grabbed the edge of his towel and yanked it off.

  He growled and reached for her, but she squealed and ran for the living room. She flopped onto the couch, giggling like a little girl, but when she looked back to the bedroom Hunter stood in the doorway, naked as the day he was born, the single most glorious man she’d ever had the privilege to witness in the nude.

  He’d reached up and hooked his fingers over the top of the door jamb, and lounged there casually displaying himself for her perusal. She had no doubt he meant for her to understand what she was missing. Her skin tingled, and her mouth watered in appreciation. She’d need to change her panties again.

  Tall, tan, lean, and hung, Hunter made the perfect argument without even saying a word.

  “Wow.” How she managed even one coherent word, she had no idea.

  He grinned. “Damn right, wow.”

  “Ego much?”

  He shrugged and turned back to the bedroom, giving her a great view of his ass.

  Waiting for tomorrow would be a serious challenge, but she didn’t like to lose any more than he did, so she’d wait. Until then, she’d have as much fun teasing him as possible.

  After Hunter dressed—still looking too damn sexy to be legal—they headed down to the outdoor restaurant. The dining room consisted of a raised floor composed of some kind of dark, warm wood, and a roof made of the same wood in an open crisscross of beams. The maître d’ seated them at one of the tables covered with a crisp, white cloth. A rustic black brushed metal and glass lantern stood in the center of each table, a lit candle inside.

  A warm tropical breeze blew in off the ocean, only several yards away. The rhythmic crashing of waves onto the white sandy beach was better than any muted dinner music.

  Hunter held her chair for her while she sat, then took his own. Normally, she didn’t appreciate those kind of gentlemanly gestures because they reduced her, as a woman, to someone who couldn’t do for herself. It implied she was fragile, helpless, and needed caring for. But with Hunter, the gesture felt intimate, made her feel feminine but not unequal. She was perfectly capable of holding her own with him, and would just as likely hold the door for him and not think anything of it.

  A waiter approached the table and handed them menus. He told them the special, the soup of the day, and asked for their beverage order.

  Hunter requested the sommelier, and once they had wine and dinner ordered, they were finally alone. Allison fiddled with her silverware. Now that they were in public, things between them felt awkward. It was easy to tease and play sexy games in private, but while in public they had to behave. That meant normal conversation.

  “It’s a beautiful evening.” She cringed. Small talk sucked. “I’ve never been to Costa Rica. I didn’t know what to expect, beyond ‘tropical’.”

  “I’ve never been here, either. When I travel it’s usually for business, and I don’t spend a lot of time sightseeing.”

  “Technically, this is a business trip, too, but lucky for us it involves sightseeing and recreation and good food.”

  “True.”

  As if taking his cue from her words, the wine steward reappeared and they went through the process of sniffing and tasting and approving, then waited for him to pour for both of them.

  Allison sipped hers, enjoying the crisp dryness of it.

  “So, tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with real estate development, boardrooms, or bank accounts.”

  His brows scrunched together as if he had to think hard about his life. To consider if he even had a life outside of those things.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Um. How about family?”

  He made a grunt that sounded disgusted, but said, “You met my father and most recent stepmother. A couple of my five brothers, too, as I recall.”

  “A super tall huge guy and a rangy blond?”

  “Yeah. Between all of us there’ve been three mothers. Mine died when I was a kid.”

  “Wow. From your gloomy tone, I’m going to guess family’s a touchy subject.”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then placed it back in his lap. “Not really. I just don’t usually talk to people about them. My family’s, shall we say, unusual.”

  Allison snorted. “Everyone’s family is unusual in some way or another. There’s no such thing as a ‘normal’ family. For instance, my mom and dad divorced when I was ten. Mom worked her ass off at two, sometimes three jobs, to support me and my little brother until she remarried when I was fifteen. My stepdad’s a good guy, but I think Mom settled mostly because she just couldn’t do it alone anymore. We needed a second income and she wanted companionship.”

  “There are worse reasons to get married. Are they still together?”

  “Actually, yes. I think Mom learned to love him. Now that Jesse and I are out of the house, Mom and Rick get out and do a lot more things together.”

  “Jesse’s your brother?”

  “Yep. He and his partner live in San Diego, so I don’t see him as often as I want to.”

  “Partner?”

  “He came out to us when he was twelve. For his own sanity and safety, I sometimes wished he’d waited until he could get away from the south. But he’s a stubborn little shit and insisted on being who he was, everyone else be damned.”

  “Sounds like his sister.”

  Allison laughed. “Yeah, I guess. I have a pretty strong sense of self. So, five brothers? That’s a lot of testosterone in one house.”

  “You have no idea. Everything was a competition. Dad encouraged it.”

  “No relaxing pizza and movie nights at your house?”

  He barked a laugh. “No.”

  The waiter brought their appetizer and two plates. While they helped themselves Allison asked, “What do your brothers do now?”

  “You’re going to think the whole pack of them sound pretentious.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m the oldest and going down in age we have a biker, a Navy SEAL, a rock star wannabe, an MMA wannabe, and a hermit.”

  “You’re right. That’s quite a group. A hermit and a couple wannabes?”

  “Bishop’s the hermit. Don’t even ask about him. The rest of us don’t. Jaxon’s got talent, but it’s not easy to break into the music industry. And Colton’s got skills in the cage, if he could get his temper under control. I think you met Xander and Damian at the wedding.”

  “They’re the biker and the SEAL?”

  “Yeah. And now I’m done talking about my family.”

  “Fair enough. Paper scissor rock for the last scallop?”

  He cocked his head as if she’d just spoken an alien language. “You mean rock paper scissors?”

  She gasped and clutched her chest is mock shock. “You’re one of those people?”

  When he realized she was kidding, his face relaxed into a smile. She liked the way it made his face look.

  “You know that the proper technical name of the game is rock paper scissors, right?” he asked.

  “I do not
accept that as fact. You can’t prove it.”

  “Is that the lawyer talking?”

  She nodded and speared the last scallop. “They taught us that in lawyer school. You have to have evidence or it’s not a fact.”

  The waiter brought their dinner, and they spent the next hour eating, talking, laughing, and polishing off the bottle of wine. Allison couldn’t remember the last date she’d enjoyed so thoroughly, even without the pre-dinner orgasm.

  By the time they finished dinner, Hunter experienced a condition he was unfamiliar with. He felt warm, sated, relaxed. He didn’t feel the need to check stocks or email or messages. He didn’t need to stretch the tightness from his neck. He didn’t have the urge to tell anyone what to do.

  If he didn’t know any better, he’d diagnose himself as happy. Or at the very least content.

  Maybe it was the half bottle of wine he’d drunk, or the delicious meal, or the tropical breeze.

  But when he looked across the table at Allison, he had to admit she had at least something to do with it.

  Her smile lit up her face, and her laugh infected him and before he knew it he was laughing, too.

  The waiter brought the check and he grabbed the pen, ready to charge it to their room. As he put pen to paper, Allison cleared her throat.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Don’t forget to sign it Mr. McDowell.”

  She smothered a snicker in her napkin.

  “What the hell’s with the name, anyway?”

  “I figured since you said you wanted to visit the resort incognito you’d want to use a fake name. I mean, your name’s fairly well known in the real estate business. This way you’re undercover.”

  “So you made me Mr. Allison McDowell?”

  “Yeah. I thought it was pretty funny.”

  “Hilarious.”

  He understood her reasoning, but didn’t much like the feeling of giving up his identity to someone else. He wondered how often women felt that way when they married.

  He signed his fake name with a flourish, leaving a sizable tip, then stood and offered Allison his hand. She took it and he tucked hers into the crook of his arm.

  “How about a walk on the beach?” he asked.

  She looked up at him with feigned surprise. “You’re dangerously close to being romantic, right now, Mr. McDowell.