Page 71 of Hunter

“I don’t think I can stand up much longer,” she murmured.

His hands stilled. His breath drew in sharply. “I should stop doing this to you.”

“Not this time.”

“Kathryn, when you came back from Swinton’s lab . . . you. . .changed. I saw the look on your face.” His eyes were bleak as he put distance between them.

“Hunter,” she said quickly, reaching for his arm and holding tight. “I saw things there that upset me. And I was in shock.”

“Yes. You saw—you know.”

The look on his face made her eyes sting. “Please believe me. It hasn’t changed the way I feel about you.”

“It must.” His lips hardened. “Emerson told you I was a man who had lost his memory. When I heard it, I wanted it to be true. So much. But I knew that was just a fantasy. I knew that you would find out the truth.”

“I did. And I was angry with Swinton. Angry with Emerson and Beckton and all the rest of them. But I wasn’t angry with you, Hunter. I wasn’t frightened of you. Or . . . or offended.”

The doubt in his eyes made her hurry on. “My feelings for you are the same as they were when we were talking about making love, both of us wanting it so badly we ached. The other night, we both knew we couldn’t give in to that wanting. But now we’re alone. And safe. And I think I can show you how I feel better than I can tell you.” She prevented further discussion by pressing her mouth to his, using her lips in ways that would stop him from thinking.

She knew to the heartbeat when she had won. For several seconds he remained absolutely still, then his lips began to move against hers with a hunger she felt in every cell of her body.

He made a low sound in his throat as her tongue entered his mouth, sliding over strong teeth and sensitive tissue before withdrawing slowly, inviting him to try out the same technique.

When he raised his head, he was shaking. But she suspected he still wasn’t quite convinced.

She skimmed her hand along his ribs, down to his hips, drawing him against her, as she found his eyes with hers, held his gaze. “I want the same thing you do. Please. If we don’t make love now, I think my body is going to self-destruct.”

“You feel that way, too? Like a volcano about to explode?”

She managed a little laugh. “Oh, yes.” Taking his hand, she tugged him down to lie beside her on the blanket, then rolled so that she was facing him as she held out her arms.

He stared at her with a kind of wonder, touched her face, her shoulder, her breasts, as if he couldn’t quite believe they were finally together like this, both aching with desire.

“I want to do the right things,” he said in a thick voice.

She moved her lips lightly against his. “Anything we do together will be wonderful. It’s already wonderful,” she reassured him.

“Yes. Everything with you is perfect for me.” Tenderly, he stroked his thumb against her lips, tracing their outline. “But I think that’s because you know how to make it that way. I want to do the same for you, but you must tell me what I need to know.”

His eyes were so serious that she took his face in her hands and gave him a soft kiss. Again, she marveled at his candor. His lack of artifice. His caring. He was burning up with need, yet he wanted to please her so much that it made her heart ache.

“You only need to know one thing,” she told him gently between tiny kisses. “It’s that men are ready for joining—for intercourse—more quickly than women. As soon as a man has an erection, he’s ready. But a woman needs a little more time if she’s going to reach sexual climax. She needs to be kissed and touched first.”

“Sexual climax?”

“The burst of pleasure that comes at the end.”

She didn’t know whether he understood all of that yet, but she had no doubt that he would. “So kiss me. And touch me,” she whispered, kissing the warm place where his neck joined his shoulder as her hands stroked his cheek, his neck, his chest, down the flat plane of his stomach, over his thighs, and finally to the rigid flesh straining behind his briefs.

He drew in a quick, sharp breath when she cupped her hand around him, and she permitted herself only a few brief caresses, knowing that she could bring this to completion too quickly.

Instead, she tugged off her panties so she would be completely open to him. With a little smile of reassurance, she lay back on the blanket, her arms bent upward, her body and soul open and vulnerable to him.

“You are perfect,” he said with awe. He stroked the hair on her head, then touched the triangle of red hair below.

“It’s the same beautiful color against your creamy skin.” He rose over her, kissing her mouth, then moving his lips to her shoulders, and then to the tops of her breasts.

“Can I?” he asked in a thick voice, his lips hovering above one taut nipple.

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