Page 55 of Shades of You

He obeyed, sitting on the couch with his thick shaft very ready. I straddled him, slid down, and took him in slowly, inch by torturous inch. In this position, I could dictate the pace in order to savor the fullness, the stretch, the exquisite friction.

He lounged before me with his eyes half-closed. His mouth was slightly ajar, and I could hear the uneven rhythm of his breaths. A sense of raw power surged within me that he trusted me enough to let me be in control, to surrender willingly. This feeling of confidence coursing through my veins was intoxicating as I held him captive with nothing more than the promise of my touch.

His strong hands gripped my hips, but he continued to let me lead. A silent conversation of need and desire passed between us. I moved atop him, rising and falling with deliberate slowness as I drew out the pleasure, creating a rhythmthat was ours alone. His eyes were the storm personified, and his jaw clenched as he fought to maintain control.

“Hunter,” I breathed his name into the night.

“God, Brenna,” he groaned in response. “You… you’re going to be the end of me.”

I smiled at him, my eyes drinking him in as I leaned closer. My hair fell forward over my shoulders, and he plunged both hands into it. Our bodies moved in sync, and our ragged breathing was the only sound.

“I need you,” I whispered against his ear, and he shuddered at my words.

“Then take me,” he growled.

With that, he reached for my hips, thrusting upward to the point of pain. Our bodies collided, skin sliding against skin, every muscle tensing to meet the other’s need. Pain mixed with exquisite, shattering pleasure. Our movements grew more frenzied, each gasp and groan sharing the space between us. His eyes met mine again and something flashed within them.

Anticipation. Need. Surrender.

His hands roamed over my skin with a possessive urgency that only inflamed my desire further. “Oh God.” I gasped, clinging to his shoulders as the pressure built again.

“Tell me, Brenna,” he murmured against my neck, his breath hot on my sweat-slicked skin. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Only yours.” The words dissolved into a moan as he surged within me.

“Goddamn right,” Hunter growled and locked onto my neck with his teeth. A deep, shuddering moan rippled through me, and his movements grew more insistent, driving us both toward a precipice we were desperate to tumble over.

“Look at me,” I demanded. Hunter’s eyes met mine,filled with a wildness that matched my own. “Make me forget everything but this moment,”

I rolled my hips against him, drawing out a low, primal sound from deep within him. “You drive me crazy. I can’t get enough.”

With a sudden, powerful thrust, Hunter groaned my name as he shuddered beneath me, his release overtaking him. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his body tensing, then trembling as if he were unleashing every ounce of passion and emotion he possessed. And that was enough to send another climax rushing through me.

As our heartbeats slowed, neither of us moved. I placed my hand over his heart, the thump of it strong under my touch. It gradually slowed to its usual reassuring rhythm. Lifting my head, I brushed a gentle kiss over his lips. I rose off him, but I wasn’t ready for clothes yet.

After disposing of the condom, Hunter tossed a fuzzy throw over us. He left his spectacular chest bare and I snuggled up tight, fitting myself against his side as he slid an arm over my shoulders. My fingertips gently skimmed the surface of his skin, following the elaborate tapestry of ink that sprawled across his pecs. The designs were an intricate maze of swirls and patterns, each one meticulously placed to form a stunning visual display. Every curve and line had been thoughtfully considered, weaving a narrative across the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, extending up to embrace his upper arms.

“This tattoo is incredible. What does it mean?”

Hunter’s gaze shifted, and a shadow flickered across the depths of his eyes. “It’s a tribute. An American Samoan, Tavita, was in the same unit as me. He was my best friend.”

Was.

Emotion swelled within me. Another sad story buriedin his past, but one he wanted to honor. He certainly didn’t want pity from me. “Your tattoo is more than ink. It’s a story, a legacy.”

“We were friends a long time ago, before I met Garret and Myles. Tavita and I went through our Raider training together, and he helped me get through some dark times as I tried to move on from Evan’s accident. He was killed during an op… I guess it’s been eight years ago. He had a tattoo similar to this, so I got one to help me remember him.”

Hunter’s eyes held mine. The ghost of his pain flickered there before he masked it with a smile. I wanted to wrap him in words of love, to tell him how deeply he had rooted himself in my heart, but the vulnerability in his gaze held me back. He needed understanding, not declarations that might overwhelm him.

“I’m sure he’d be proud,” I said quietly.

“I think so too.” Gently cupping the back of my head, he pressed our foreheads together. “But sometimes I feel so broken.”

“No, Hunter. ‘The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.’”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “More Hemingway, huh?”

I stroked my fingers through his dark locks. “You know what it means. Just because you’ve broken doesn’t mean you can’t come back even stronger. And you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

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