Page 115 of The Hunter
“Don’t go.” She reached a hand out.
“I should never have come, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Millie challenged.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You should be.”
“I know.” Standing, she began to unbutton her nightdress, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it glide down the contours of her body. She was unclothed, but it was he who stood naked in front of her.
“I’m alive, thanks to you. I want tofeelalive.” It was all she needed to say.
A palpable shift occurred as he visibly broke whatever chain it was that kept him away from her. Some would call it decency. Others would call it fear. Millie knew it was some complicated mélange of the two.
In the end, need won the night.
He pushed away from the door and his long, powerful legs ate up the paces between them. He’d reclaimed his predatory grace, no longer held in check.
A thrill stole Millie’s breath the moment before he reached her, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her harshly.
The lethal potency in him hit her with a palpable wave. Millie could sense it, coiled and deadly, balancing on a dagger’s edge. The lust generated by such a dangerous man, unleashed upon her with a fury she’d never before felt from him, was indescribably erotic. His tongue was a smooth invader, claiming her mouth, forcing her teeth apart, and sweeping over hers with sure, rhythmic thrusts. His stubble was rough against her lips, cheeks, and chin.
His hands were rougher.
Roaming everywhere at once, his palms abraded her skin with incomparable sensation. Once they reached the curve of her backside, he ground her against him. The rigid length behind his trousers was hard as stone. She could feel the heat of it pulsing from where it was wedged between their bodies.
She had never wanted anything more, had never been so needy and aching. She craved his weight above her. His body inside hers.
Feeling brazen, she reached between them and cupped his erection. He gasped and tore his mouth from her. His lips gleamed with moisture, and his eyes glinted down at her with an erotic warning. Her name ripped from his throat on a low groan.
“I want to be beneath you.” She released him, reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt, exposing shoulders as tight as cables.
“I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t deny me,” she commanded gently, pressing a kiss to the glossy web of scars at his shoulder as she pushed his shirt down. “Don’t tell me not to be kind. Imustbe kind to you, and you must allow it.”
He twitched and stiffened when she kissed his shoulder, the skin of his throat, but his arms remained locked around her. After a few indecisive moments, his head dropped to where the column of her neck met her own shoulder and he pressed a kiss there, too.
Millie’s heart melted, and so did her loins, becoming soft and wet and ready for him.
His second kiss was more tender, velvety, but just as possessive and urgent as before. It entranced Millie so completely, she hardly marked the sounds of his shirt hitting the floor, or his trousers. He kicked them and his shoes away before pushing her back onto the bed, his strong arms anchored at her back to cushion her fall.
Slowly, rigidly, he settled on top of her, breathing out something harsh and profane against her ear. She could feel his cock as he stretched atop her, hard and insistent against her thigh.
His mouth found hers, questing for consolation. She gave it to him, smoothing her hands down the cords of his back, threading her fingers through his silken hair. She’d expected this moment between them to be explosive and lusty. A frantic, thrusting culmination of a horrific night.
What she hadn’t anticipated, was this need to explore the nuances of their desires. She’d never been able to truly look at him when they’d come together in the past. Hadn’t thrilled to the way his eyes turned from ice to indigo when he was aroused.
His rough thumbs grazed her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks, causing her to grind against him.
“Soft,” he groaned, as though having lost the ability to create full sentences. As he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, his hands drifted down, spanning the indent of her waist, flaring over the curve of her hip.
Millie moaned her encouragement, reveling in the feel of his sleek muscles beneath her palms, in the weight of his incredible body pressing her into the mattress.
His teeth caught at her captured lip as his fingers cleaved the moist cleft between her thighs. A hoarse cry exploded from her as he grazed the small nub of flesh from which raw pleasure seemed to spiral to the farthest reaches of her limbs.
She gasped his name, a climax rolling up from deep within her after only a few soft strokes of his hand. Clutching at him, clenching her thighs together, she rode it, spun out with it. Only vaguely was she aware of the wild sound he made as he explored the tender parts of her throat with his lips and teeth.
She writhed beneath him until her limbs locked with a few last jaw-clenching pulses and then she went limp, resting her forehead on his scarred shoulder as she struggled to regain her breath. Christopher pressed kisses into her hairline and dragged his lips along her jaw. He wound his hand in her hair, anchoring her head back as he studied her lips, then captured them, marking her tender skin with his stubble before pulling away to inspect his handiwork.
